All Chapters of Rhapsody for a Wolf: Chapter 81 - Chapter 90

“Make. Them. Stop!” Watch his chest. I remember my instructor’s voice. Watch his chest, not his hands or his eyes. The chest telegraphs your opponent’s moves. I don’t want to give away how much training I’ve had, but I’m not about to let Amos hit me. His hand, clenched in my clothes, bunches more tightly. I relax and let my weight sink into my toes. “Stop it!” The demand is snapped at us from right beside us. Francesca has come storming up to us, waving her mobile phone. “Back off, Amos, or I’m calling the police to report an assault in progress.” Amos’s head turns abruptly to glare at Francesca, but he doesn’t let go of me or lower his other hand. “It’s not an assault-” “Looks like assault from here,” Francesca says, starting to tap numbers in on her phone. “Where’s your fist, Amos? What exactly is it doing there?” It’s still in the air, and it might still come my way. I’m not taking my eyes off hi

The complaint to HR doesn’t take long, but it serves as a distraction. A distraction from the problem I now have. I should laugh at myself for it: suddenly having my friends back has presented me with more of a problem than suddenly being without them. I had all but made up my mind to leave the orchestra. The music is not exclusive to the Britannia. I could readily find orchestral work elsewhere, if I wished. I have other options. The company was one of the reasons to stay, and without that it was  a much less desirable possibility. If I leave now, it will be so much harder to keep in touch with Francesca and Holly. Charlotte. Amos. The others who, with that one rather large road-bump and a few notable exceptions, have been companionship and support for a long time now. Aiden will be staying in London for years, of course, if he keeps up with college. Th

There is no race tonight. No contest. Neither of the pieces are extraordinarily demanding. They are not easy, of course, but nor are any of them beyond the skill of any reasonably proficient musician. Despite this, I can feel weariness tugging at me by the end. Or perhaps because of it, and not in spite of it. An audience can fill you with its energy and carry you along if they are caught up in the performance. If they are merely observers, the performers carry all the weight. The rave reviews for the previous night will not have affected audience numbers. The tickets will have been sold days or weeks ago. It may have set the audience expectations, however. We set the bar very high with that little tiff. Ironic that anger and misery should produce a result greater than that of accord and peace.“I think I’d rather be playing your piece,”

I’m not completely sure that I am awake. I feel loved, as if I am wrapped up in a soft, warm, fluffy blanket of tenderness. Awareness dawns slowly, one sense at a time. The enveloping sensation of adoration and intimacy. The scent of pine resin and fresh snow mingled with jasmine and cotton sheets. The faint sounds of traffic and distant aircraft filtering through the window. The puffs of warm breath against the back of my neck. The gentle trail of fingertips across my ribs and waist.I finally open my eyes.The light in the room is dim and blue-tinged. My curtains are thick but not perfectly light-proof. Yawning, I flop over a little, my shoulder pressing back into my bed-mate’s chest and my head rolling onto his shoulder in a cloud of unruly hair. “Morning.”

The flat seems empty once Aiden has gone. I am starting to resent our other commitments. His college, his job, my orchestra. Our conversations are snatched moments of time that we end up… not wasting, never that, but spending on our physical connection rather than that of our minds. There is so much we have yet to learn about each other, and I cannot help but feel there will be many more misunderstandings and arguments until we have a chance to learn each other inside as well as out. An innate sense of what we are each feeling is less useful than one might guess. I have the entire morning stretching ahead of me. I pull on joggers and trainers and go for a run, then spend an hour practicing scales and arpeggios, which, to the disgust of many a learner, you never get to leave behind. I keep Eddie ready to use and get out the manuscript sheets with my Rhapsody. I have a whole orchestral version to work on, a