November 14, 2006
No

‘His authority was the boundary of my world at a time when I was still child enough to need such boundaries, and the sense of order and place they bestowed. I belonged to him; perhaps for no better reason than that I simply needed to belong.’ -Susan Kay

Even in the beginning, I looked up to him. He was a figure of romance, of inspiration, of wisdom, and righteous anger. He held absolute authority, and every word that he said weighed heavily in my mind. The tousled ochre hair, the dark eyes, the intimidating build, and the warmth of his breath on my cheek, was something that I craved like a drug. A morphine so powerful, that I feared the day that I would have to live without it….

And yet there was a drug that was stronger still, the dangerous, hypnotic power of his voice. Never had I heard a voice so chilling, so livid and beautiful. When he would open his mouth and sing, my mind would go blank, and my heart seemed to rise from my chest. I think that I could have sat in that little piano room for days on end, living on the chords of his voice alone.

When he touched my cheek, and brought his lips to my ear, those words, “I have chosen you,” echoed over and over again in my mind. How was it that someone like him had managed to single out someone like me? How was it that someone with his genius had taken me under his wing?

The lessons first started in late October, when it rained constantly and the world was closing up to embrace the chill of winter. He would lead me to the abandoned hallway, and close the door swiftly behind him. It seemed as though the two of us belonged there. It was a meeting point, a medium between our two worlds. Mine the world of instrumentals and his the world of vocals. It was in that cozy niche of the world that he truly opened my eyes.

Singing had always been a source of insecurity for me. When I was younger I was in church choir, but I dropped out when my mother told me that I sang with my nose. She convinced me to take to the flute instead, and after that I never sang again, not even in the shower.

When he told me to sing for him, I naturally stared at him with wide eyes and shook my head, but the pressure of his eyes on mine forced me to swallow my fear, and I slowly began. My voice trembled horribly as I climbed the scale, and became so quiet that it almost disappeared beneath the soft echo of the piano. He stared up at me expectantly as we reached an F sharp, then a G, an A, a B flat, and then landed weakly on a C. My voice cracked, and I stared at him with a nervousness that I had never felt before, wondering what he would say.

“You passed my expectations.”

I sighed with relief as he smiled at me, and that was how it began.
-

Every afternoon that I could spare, I would meet him in that room and sing with him. We went over a few warm-ups, a scale or two, and a Christmas song, but for a majority of the time we sang duets from a few of the various musicals that I knew. I can still hear his voice climbing above mine as we sang ‘As Long as You’re Mine’ from Wicked.

Gradually my voice didn’t shake as much, I didn’t crack on high notes, and I began to gain confidence. When I was with him, I had a sense of security, I didn’t feel shy or awkward, and prompted by his constant praise, I grew to love singing more and more every day.

Each time that I would meet him, he opened the door to a world that I had never seen before. When we sang together, everything disappeared, and I gave myself up to my feelings, I gave myself up to a passion beyond even my understanding. My voice was an instrument to do with what I pleased, and from then on it hardly ever failed me. I had been given a reason, a purpose. Those days were like a dream, and he was a part of the dream that enchanted me all the more. I found that I did not want to wake up.

I still remember when Michael took me by the hand and warned me to stay away
from him. December was growing near, and rain fell through the trees and soaked through our clothing. I was wearing his coat, so I was snug, but in the cold, his hair was plastered to his face, and his eyes were full of concern.

Michael and I had grown up together, and he had always been my ever present conscience. For the three years that I had known him, he had constantly made it a point to look out for me. He cared, and he loved me with a reserved passion that has never been matched by anyone. And I loved him for loving me. We were happy together, and what we had was sweet and innocent. In the year that we had been together, the farthest we would dare go, was the brush of a hand on a knee, or the fleeting touch of lips on a cheek. It was beautiful, something that no one else could ever match.

And he proved his love time and time again with his concern.

I told him that there was nothing to worry about. That he was just helping me sing, that he was perfectly safe…. and Michael turned away, respecting my decision.

-

We met that day in the little hall, and he picked out notes on the piano, looking up at me with his dark eyes. His fingers were poised on the keys, and his lips pursed slightly as he tried to create a melody out of a garble of random notes. When he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he cursed, and then glared at
me accusingly. He shook his head. “You’re an alto, but I think that I’d like to try a soprano song today.”

He opened his mouth, sang my part, and then waited expectantly for me to match him in pitch and clarity. I went over it once, stumbled on a note, and then went over it again. His eyes never left mine, and he rose slowly to his feet. “It’s wrong. Do it over.”

The notes were too high. It was impossible for me to reach them. I shook my head and glanced at him with a note of hopelessness in my eyes, “I can’t do it.”

“Do it again.”

I tried. Once, twice. There was absolutely no way.

And then suddenly my back was against the wall, and his arms pinned me against the tile on both sides. His breath was hot and rancid on my face, sour with the smell of alcohol, and his shoulders tensed. He sang the note with a violence that made my hands
tremble. “Sing it.”

And I sang. His body was pressed roughly against mine, and suddenly I wasn’t seeing the world that he had once opened up for me. I didn’t see the places that he used to take me with his voice. It was as if he was dying in my ears. When he touched me before, it had been in long, gentle strokes, or it had been the touch of his breath on my skin. It was pleasant and inviting, but this… the way that he had me cornered… I didn’t like it at all. I felt almost threatened. I wanted him to back away. I wanted him to get off.

It was then that I realized that I had hit them, those horrible notes. Somehow my subconscious had taken over and while I had been focused on him, my voice had pushed itself to a place that was new to it. A place that I had never reached. The last note lingered in the air and I stood there, breathless and trembling.

“That’s all for today.”

And he fell away from me, as though nothing had happened at all. Gathering his things, he motioned for me to follow him from the hallway. I ran to catch up, my body moving without my mind’s consent. We walked in silence for a while as he lead me down the breezeway, but then his whispered words tickled my ears with confusion, as he whispered, “Well done, my dear, well done.”

From that moment on I followed him like a dog, intent on pleasing its master at all costs.
-

The lessons went on through the end of December. Michael waited patiently for me to get out of class, even on the days when he had a free period, and he always greeted me with a smile. He would take me in his arms and whisper little nothings in my ear, and he would laugh with me about things that were irrelevant, but important to us. It was on one such occasion that the two of them happened to meet.

If he knew that Michael and I were together, he made no indication of it. He just smiled and introduced himself, but after a few months of being constantly in his presence, I was able to recognize the beginning of his horrible temper. I recognized that little turning of his lips. It was a dangerous sign. Michael tightened his arms around me, and there was no way to escape the feeling of tension bristling between them.

“So, have you ever heard her sing?”

“She never let’s me.”

“She’s good at it. You should listen to the noise she makes when she’s excited.”

Michael cringed. And with that, he blew past us, leaving me feeling filthy as sin.

“Please, I have to go…” I gave Michael an apologetic look, and followed after him.

-

“Who is he?” he asked, his hands clenched on the keys of the piano. He looked over at me, and I winced at the hatred in his eyes.

I was silent.

“I said, who is he?” And before I knew what was happening, one hand was around my neck and the other had caught both of my wrists. He was slowly strangling me, and I gasped for breath.

“My boyfriend…. Let go… please, let go! You’re hurting me!”

He didn’t stop, and he held me like that for a long moment, before the hand around my neck grudgingly relaxed. He released me, and I fell to the floor, panting to gain my breath.

“Get out of here,” he whispered with venom. “Get out of here, do you hear me? Leave! Never again! I never want to see you again! Just leave! Leave!”

I was shaking so badly that I could hardly stand, but I forced myself to my feet and hobbled out the door, closing it gently behind me. It was only then that I collapsed to my knees and burst into tears.

-

After that, I didn’t see much of him for a while. The lessons stopped, and I found myself in something like a grace period. It was raining rather hard by that time, and you could hardly see across the field, the fog was so thick. From where we perched on the bleachers, Mike and I enjoyed the view, as well as each other’s company. I still missed his voice, and for the first few weeks, it’s absence drove me into a state of depression, but Michael slowly pulled me out of it. He tenderly rest his head on my shoulder and blew warmth into my hands. His whispered words still echo in my ears even now, “Forget him. I love you,” and his hands strayed from mine and rose to gently cup my neck. My hands trembled as they found their way to his collar and I closed my eyes as he leaned down and brought my lips to his. “I love you, Lauren.”

We stayed like that for a long time. Almost a month went by, and I can honestly say that I have never been happier, since then. After that first innocent kiss the world seemed as though all time had stopped, allowing us a pocket of extra moments, that the rest of the world did not have. We laughed and fawned over one another without restraint.

-

With a lot of my time dedicated to singing, I had been somewhat squelching my responsibilities to the band. Our winter concert was on it’s way, and considering that it would be my first concert in high school, I was pretty excited. I still remember sitting on the golden seats of Beede, waiting for the strings to finish so that that my group could take the stage, and clutching my flute with nervous hands.

As I was going over the fingerings of a particularly shaky song, I started when I heard a voice behind me. Rich and full, it unnerved me as memories came racing immediately to my mind. “You look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” I replied unsteadily. My fingers moved more quickly on the keys of my flute.

“Where’s Michael?” That voice again, deep and soothing and inviting. “This is important to you isn’t it? Shouldn’t he be here?”

“I didn’t ask him to come,” I said softly. The strings flared up just then, and the whole auditorium filled with sound. It was a haunting melody, yet it was driven and seductive, as the harmony pulsed stealthily beneath it. “… he would have…if I’d have asked… he would have.”

Silence for a moment. He had contented himself to leaning back in his seat, and yet his face perched dangerously close to my neck. “Come back to the room with me…I want to teach you a new song…”

“It’s been a long time. I don’t…”

“I broke up with her. My girlfriend,” he said, as though that explained everything. His hand brushed my cheek. “I stopped teaching you, because I was seeing her, but it’s over now. She’s gone.”

You were dating someone? My eyes opened wide at the realization, and my stomach clenched. That hand, I could still feel it pulsing with anger, around my neck.

“No. It doesn’t matter… I’m busy. I have other things to do,” I said stonily.

He blinked, obviously surprised that I had contradicted him. I never contradicted him, but then his face set back into an amused smile. “At least let me tell you something. There’s going to be a Musical Productions class. You get in by audition. I want you to try out.”

“I don’t sing in front of people.”

“I want you to try out.”

“No.”

-

My heart made a steady climb into my throat as I pranced up and out of my chair, and moved behind the piano. “Hi, I’m Lauren Hatch. I’m a Freshman, and I’ll be singing ‘The Wizard and I’. It’s a song sung by the Wicked Witch of the West, from the musical Wicked.”

The room fell silent, the whole first period choir class stared at me, and after a few seconds, I began. I was shivering as much from the cold winter air as the horrible nervousness that was beginning to ensnare my heart. A whole class full of strangers, listening to me! The nervousness began to show in my lower range, and it shook a bit. I grabbed on to the piano for support, and the song moved hastily into my mid range. The shaking stopped.

“’And with all his wizard wisdom, by my looks he won’t be blinded. Do you think the Wizard is dumb? Or like munchkins so small minded?’”

And the whole class burst out laughing. My voice faltered again, but after a few seconds I realized that I hadn’t done anything wrong and that they were laughing at the lyrics.

There was this feeling in my chest, just threatening to burst out. My voice grew stronger, and I met the two teacher’s eyes with a startling confidence. I felt empowered, and the rest of the song flew by with a certain amount of guts I didn’t know I possessed. I didn’t need anyone or anything to help me. I was belting out a song, and I actually sounded good. I felt like I was flying.

-

“I taught her everything.”

“Her voice….? Oh, she got in because of me.”

“I showed her how to hold notes like that.”

“She couldn’t sing for anything before I got through with her.”

“Yeah, she was like Tom, back when I first started giving him lessons. Now he can read music. She’ll be doing that soon too.”

“With my help, she’ll be in Music Masters this year.”

“I never thought that she’d be this good, but with me as a teacher… well…”

Shut up! I wanted to scream.

“Her voice….”

Shut up!

“I practically own it…”

Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

I felt used. Completely used and completely wasted. Sitting in the musical productions class, and listening to him crowing to everyone about his ‘accomplishment’, as though I was nothing but a voice. I wasn’t human anymore to him, and as I sang with the class, I began to realize that everything that he ever was, and ever had been, was nothing but an illusion. Every song that he had ‘taught’ me, had been a basic warm-up that was taught to Freshman on their first few days of school. The only song that he sang with me that I didn’t know was a basic Music Master’s Christmas carol. He hadn’t taught me anything.

His arm was around my waist now, drawing me closer to him. He was no longer that dark, intriguing presence. He was just him. And in that moment I saw him for what he really was. I saw the ugliness in his heart. In that moment, I saw the egotistical nature that had been such an amazing part of his mystery, and yet, it was hardly attractive. In all reality, it was nothing short of demeaning. I saw everything with a new clarity, and all at once, it seemed as though the captivating hold that he once had on me, was shattered.

“After school?” he asked, his lips twitching into a smile. A boast to his friends.

“After school,” I nodded.

-

“Sing for me.”

His voice broke through the silence, echoing again and again against the tile of the hallway. For the first time, the piano lay silent, a testament to the beginning of our end. His voice was rich and tantalizing in its fullness, and his hand reached for mine with a look of authority that could not be denied. The moment that our fingers met, familiar feelings began to rush to me. Those lightheaded, swelling feelings that came every time that his voice would rise in a powerful crescendo and then drop down once more into almost
nothing. Once again I was living on the feeling in his voice.

“Past the point of no return. No backward glances. Our games of make believe are at an end. Past all thought of if or when. No use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend. What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks it‘s door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the Point of no return, the final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn, beyond the point of no return?”

A long chill passed through me, and I trembled. The ‘Point of No Return’, the most dangerous song. The only Phantom song that neither of us had attempted, in our brief time together. He drew me near, his voice powerful, skillfully strident in my ear. His hands danced in my eyes and his song danced in my ears.

He used me.

A rush of indecision shook the dream that was once more beginning to weave itself in my mind. I blinked slowly, my hands balling into fists. His voice tapered off into nothingness. Steeling myself against my feelings, I began. “Past the Point of No Return. No going back now. Our passion play has now at last begun….”

He used me to fuel his ego, and he tried to hurt me.

I backed away from him, my voice gaining power, “Past all thought of right or wrong. One final question. How long should we two wait before we’re one?”

Everything that he said was a lie. I don’t want to live beneath him anymore. I need to break away.

“When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?” And he grabbed me and pulled me to him. Our breathing was coming quickly now, and we took a collective breath together. I sang with everything that I had. Every ounce of hatred, every ounce of longing, every ounce of love. I sang with feeling that I had never used before, and never would again.

I don’t belong to him. He didn’t teach me anything. He just gave me the passion, the courage to do what I never imagined that I could do. He didn’t teach me. My voice had been there all along. He just helped me find it. He doesn’t own me… And I don’t need to listen to him anymore….

“Past the point of no return, the final threshold. The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn..”

It’s over now. It’s all over. He won’t hurt me again.

His heart beat rapidly against my chest, and he looked down at me with something new in his eyes, as we sang the last words in merely a whisper. “We’ve past the point…. of no…. return….”

We stared at one another with a shocked breathlessness at what had occurred. Our voices had soared and clashed and we rode the last note out into an unspoken oblivion. After a moment of silence, he took my chin in his hands, his eyes full of new emotion, and said, “Sing with me, tomorrow.”

I smiled.

“No Erik…. No. It’s done.” And with that, I rested my head against his chest and closed my eyes.

-Lauren Hatch
(To this day we've been done with one another.)