Empty Symphonies II
My mind, still reeling from the adrenaline, barely registers my movements as I stand and take my bow. "Camila Rodriguez, the youngest opener the Opera House has ever had everyone!" The sound of applauds drawls me back into reality as I stare ahead at the thousands of standing ovations I'm given.
My heart swells with pride. Mamá was like me in the sense that she'd always wanted to be a performer and oftentimes liked to live through me.
She would have loved this.
My eyes almost instantly drift away from the thousands of unfamiliar faces, in search for that devastatingly handsome smile and those whiskey coloured eyes, I don't find them.
All I see is an empty seat.
Alejandro's empty seat.
He wasn't here. He didn't come.
And like a bolder to a barely standing wall, I suddenly don't want to be here. Suddenly, I feel like this small victory is meaningless and suddenly, I feel like shit for investing my happiness in someone so disappointing.
Yet I mask my disappointment and will myself to bow one more time before turning towards the side of the stage where Marco stands, starring at me.
There's a look I can't decipher in his eye. Something that resembles pride but all I can think about is how pathetic it would be to cry right now.
And so I was off stage and directly into my dressing room, where I'm overwhelmed by immense loneliness and despair.
. . .
Marco let me sit up front with him.
He didn't say anything, he merely opened the passenger side door and let me take my seat.
Was it because he saw how pathetic I was? Was it out of pity?
He hasn't said anything but I could guess what was going through his mind. I knew it when he looked into the crowd and most likely saw the empty seat in the front row where Alejandro was to be seated. I knew it when he looked back at me with what looked to be sympathy as I walked past him into my dressing room.
And I knew it when he stared at me like he was waiting for me to explode, break down, give him some sort of reaction.
It was humiliating and I was proud of myself for not losing it, yet.
Only that changes the second Marco starts driving. I have to physically bite down on my lip to stop from bursting.
I don't know how much longer I can keep it together.
I keep my gaze locked on the window as silent tears spill from my eyes.
It's only when Marco's phone blades from the console that I turn my head to see the caller ID on the car touch screen.
It was Alejandro.
Marco glances at it and then looks to my tear streaked face before pressing decline.
But the calls don't stop there. Alejandro calls again, and again.
Marco declines again, and again.
"Where was he?" I finally get out, my voice faint and scratchy. I wanted to know what was more important than this.
What was more important than me.
Marco stays silent, yet his silence speaks volumes, telling me what I need to know. He knows but doesn't want to say.
"Tell me."
His hands tighten around the steering wheel. "Ethan informed me that he had yet to return from brunch with Greta." He speaks calmly but his jaw ticks.
The information sits heavy on my chest, so heavy that I have a hard time breathing. "B... but he promised..." I trail off, my voice small and broken,
And then I break.
A loud chocked sob erupts from my throat followed by another one as I stare ahead. "He never came." I cry.
I try to calm my breathing but I can't stop. How could I be so foolish? How could I get my hopes up for someone that was such a disappointment?
I was so excited, yet the entire time I was making a fool out of myself.
He promised he was coming to listen to me. How could I believe he cared about me?
He didn't and it was all bullshit.
Marco passes me a few tissues as he drives and lets me sob. I truly felt so alone.
By the time we get to the gates of the manor, my sobs quiet down to hiccups and all I want is to sleep away this terrible day.
I glance down to the pass across my neck, it was a congratulations metal of sorts in the from of a stupid backstage pass that they let me keep.
I wanted to burn it.
"Your mamá would have been very proud." Is all Marco says to me as he holds open the front door and walks into the main foyer with me.
I look over at him and send him a half hearted smile, "Thank you-"
I'm suddenly interrupted and left to watch Marco, who is instantly pushed into the wall by a furious looking Alejandro who grips Marco's collar.
Although Marco's bigger than Alejandro by a few inches, the power dynamic between them is clear in the way Marco's gaze flashes with fear.
My eyes widen and I take a step back.
"Six. Times."Alejandro seethes to Marco, his voice low and his words delivered with a harshness i'd never seen him use.
Marco doesn't respond, he merely stares at him.
"Six fucking times I called your phone." His tone gets louder. "To check where the hell you two have been, and you deliberately ignore my calls?" He booms, his voice echoing through the space.
Marco blinks at the furious man, not saying a word, his only response to his Don being a clenched jaw.
The reaction only furthersAlejandro's anger, for the next thing I know, he throws him into the wall once again, no doubt denting the wall.
"Quando chiedo, tu cazzo rispondi." He booms, the anger on his face so potent before he does something so uncalled for. (When I ask, you fucking answer.)
He throws his fist at Marco, knocking him right across the jaw before stepping back, his chest heaving in complete anger. "I need to know where she is at all times."
I gasp and take a step back.
Marco blinks at Alejandro unfazed, while he lifts a hand to hold his jaw.
My eyes widen as I glance between the two men. He had no right touching Marco.
Rage boils inside me and the next thing I know I'm throwing the only thing in my hand at Alejandro's stupid back. "Stop!" I scream.
My music folder hits the middle of his back before it drops to the floor and all my papers end up scattered across the marble floors, but I don't care. They're all useless anyways.
Alejandro stills. He's standing with his back to me and I can see his shoulder blades contract as she slowly turns his head to glance at the floor where my folder sits. All the while, rage pours off his taut body in waves.
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