The sculptor; part 11

"You're Hálwen, aren't you?"

I don't even look up at the young man standing next to me. I can't get my eyes off the door that seems to have swallowed Eddie. It feels like I've been standing here for decades. He's probably swallowed by Esther too, by now. I smirk.

"I'm Ravondir." He laughs. "Our parents seem to have the same weird taste in naming their offspring. "Well, I probably should be glad they didn't call me Bilbo."

I turn my head towards him now. One brow lifted.

"Pardon me?"

"Hi, please call me Rave." He has a nice smile.

I smile back.

It's almost midnight and we are waiting for the last band to get on stage.

People are clapping. Slow. Whistling. Shouting. The stagehands are making some changes. The bass player is doing a final sound check.

Rave gets back with three beers. But Martin has already gone home.

"He's in my year." Rave tries to make himself heard and speaks close to my ear, pointing at the bass player. His breath tickles my ear.

"He's very good, you know. I hope he won't quit acting."

"Why would he do that?" I shout back.

"His band is very successful. Even abroad. An album is coming out soon. They'll probably be touring again."

"Are they all from here?" I ask as he leans in again.

He smells rather good actually.

"Yes. Drama and art. Mostly from your academy. Two of them sculptors and one painter."

"And you?"

"What?"

"Are you good too?" I kind of flirt.
He takes a deep breath.

"The reason no man knowes, let it suffise,

    What we behold is censur'd by our eyes.

    Where both deliberat, the love is slight,

    Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?"

"That is beautiful! Whoa. Who wrote that?"

"Marlowe."

"Yes," I say, touching his chest, "I guess you are good."

I don't even notice that the lights have changed. But when my gaze goes from Rave's face to the stage I see why the crowd has started to applaud: the band is complete.

And in the middle of the stage, hard to recognize because of the backlight, is Eddie.

He's plugging in a Fender Telecaster, but I feel he's staring at me. His hair, as always, partly over his face, but I feel his eyes upon me.

And as he shakes his head I can see he is not amused. Could it be by the interaction he seems to have witnessed between Rave and me? Surely not...

The opening of the band is really dynamic and the crowd is so exited. They climb the stage and dive into the heap of people in front. Surfing. Kicking. It makes me feel unsafe and I lean against Rave for protection. He puts his arm around me and shouts in my ear:

"You want to leave?"

I only shake my head.
I want to watch Eddie. I want to hear his voice. I want to hear him pluck those cords.

He is amazing. He seems in trance, dancing. Head bend, that beautiful hair, dripping wet from sweat. And when he thrusts his hips forward and touches his belly, leaning with his head backward I just want to scream like a mad woman.

"They're fabulous, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to sit on my shoulders?"

Before I know it Rave lifts me on his back.

The result is that people start throwing beer at us. Within seconds I'm soaking wet.

The band is jamming, Rave is jumping, Eddie is shaking his long hair and the crowd seems to ignite.

And then suddenly all seems to go into slow motion somehow.

Eddie does a run-up and dives into the crowd. Right in front of us. In front of Rave and me. He launches himself and at the same time grabs me from Rave's shoulders and pulls me towards him.

Elbows Rave who makes a weak attempt to retrieve me.
"Hey, she's with me."

But Eddie just laughs and places the palms of his hands on both sides of my cheeks, his thumbs touching my lips as he presses his mouth over mine. Kissing me deep while the people let us glide over their heads. On a sea of hands. Eddie clutches me tight when slowly we slide to the ground - and before we get trampled security men urge us back to the stage.
Commotion because one security guy wants to shove me back, but Eddie won't let me go.
His body, wet with sweat, holds me in a firm grip while the guy is pulling me away from him.

I scream.

"You're hurting her!" He yells.

I'm sitting in a cheerless room behind the stage. Crates with beer bottles, crew cases for instruments, some clothes racks. Messy.
After the pulling and shoving Eddie and a stagehand brought me back stage, because I was about to faint. Eddie had to leave me behind though.

He gently kissed me on my forehead and carefully stroked the hair from my face. He winked, gave his wicked smile and then he rushed back.
I'm so confused.

A kind, big bellied, man drapes a blanket over me and gives me a bottle of water. My ears are whizzing and I seem to have little wounds everywhere. Scratches. Bruises. My tee is ruined, torn and wet with beer.

I want to cry, but I won't.
Esther is sitting on a couch on the other side of the room. Looking at me through squinted eyes. Measuring me. Smoking theatrically, in a Marlene Dietrich kind of way.

"You know this is all just a game for him. Don't you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she gives me a disdainful look, “surely you don't think he is really interested in you?"

"I have no idea what to think." I say calmly. "But I'm going to watch the rest of the show."

With the blanket around me I walk out of the room as proudly as I can.

"Remember when he fucks you that I had him earlier tonight." She jeers after me.

I'm standing at the side of the stage, partly behind a black curtain.

They are playing a more quiet song. Eddie's baritone is enchanting me.

I hadn't given his band much thought. I was more curious in his art, in him. But now.... watching him, I realize what a big part of him this band must be. He seems so open. He seems naked. Vulnerable but strong.

And this song...sexual, hurt, innocent and somehow disturbing.

During the refrain he kneels and almost bends over the mic, dramatically moving his body back and worth.
I want to rush to him. Take him in my arms. Love him. Make love to him.

And then it is over. Cheers from the audience. Shouting for an encore.
Eddie and his mates leave the stage.

The bearded man with the big belly hands a dazed Eddie a towel, and while he is wiping his face I walk up to him.

"There is more to you then meets the eye." I whisper in his ear.
Softly I kiss him on the corner of his mouth.

With a sigh I press my body against him.
And as I caress his warm, smooth, wet body...his tight abdomen, I continue.
"Will you please come to my room tonight?"

"Come, Eddie." The bassist calls. "We have to give them some more."