You and I

Chapter 3: And when you're close I feel like coming undone

Chapter 3: Untouchable burning brighter than the sun / And when you're close I feel like coming undone

Chapter title from "Untouchable" by Taylor Swift.

Sharon paced the length of the bar, checking her phone every so often. It was almost 9:15, and there was no sign of Tarja, nor had she responded to Sharon's texts. She felt ridiculous and stupid for getting her hopes up that she would see the other woman again. Tarja had probably forgotten or had something better to do.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair, and checked the lobby one more time before getting back into the elevator. But she decided to stop at the floor Tarja was staying on before going up to her room on the off chance she was there and really had just forgotten. Her first was raised to knock, inches away from the white varnished wood of the door, when she heard what sounded like crying from inside.

She hesitated, listening, her hand in midair. It was definitely crying. She didn't want to intrude, but she also didn't want to leave when her friend was obviously upset. She bit her lip, glancing back toward the elevator and wondering if it would be best to leave her alone and let her have her privacy, when a fresh bout of sobs, louder than before, turned her attention back to the door.

She finally took a deep breath and knocked. If Tarja didn't want her there, she would leave, but she had to at least try to help.

The crying abruptly stopped.
   
"Who is it?"
   
"It's Sharon," she called, biting her lip again.
   
She heard running water, and a moment later, the door opened.
   
Tarja had done a hasty job of covering up her tears--her makeup was slightly smudged and there was redness around her eyes.
   
"Sharon, I'm so sorry," Tarja said, stepping aside to let her in. "I just got caught up on the phone. I was going to call you, but--anyway, I'm sorry. I just need to find my purse."
   
"It's okay," Sharon said immediately as Tarja closed the door. "If you're too busy--"
   
"No, no, it's fine!" Tarja insisted.
   
The hotel room looked similar to hers--a king sized bed with a fluffy white duvet took up most of the space, and an iron-railed balcony overlooked the small town beneath them. Tarja had the door to the balcony open, letting in a cool breeze that carried with it bits of live music and conversation from down the street. The sun had just set, and the town was dotted with lights.
   
Tarja started rifling through her open suitcase next to the bed, and Sharon watched her while shifting her weight from one foot to the other, debating if she should say something else.
   
Tarja emerged with her purse over one shoulder. "Okay, I'm ready!"
   
Sharon could hear how forced her voice sounded. "Are you okay?" she asked.
   
Tarja's smile faltered. "Yeah, I'm fine."
   
"Are you sure?"
   
Sharon's brow knit in concern when she saw her friend's lower lip start to tremble.
   
"Hey ..." she said as Tarja sank down on the bed, a soft sob escaping her throat. Her lips were pursed like she was desperately trying to hold back tears, but Sharon saw one slip down her cheek.
   
She could hardly believe this was the same person she had sung with hours earlier, who had lit up the stage with her energy. She suddenly seemed so small.
   
Sharon sat next to her and tentatively put an arm around her shoulder. To her relief, Tarja leaned into her. She was still hiccuping to hold back sobs.

Back when they had filmed the Periscope at Hellfest, Sharon had noticed the scent of Tarja's jasmine shampoo when they had been close enough, but now she could detect the notes underneath it too. She wasn't sure if it was her hair or her skin, but she smelled like citrus, clean and fresh.
   
"It's okay," Sharon said. "You're--you're gonna be okay. I don't know if it would help, but you can talk to me about anything."
   
She gently rubbed her hand up and down her friend's arm as she cried softly, wishing there was something she could do to make her feel better.
   
"It's silly," Tarja whispered against her shoulder.
   
"It's not silly if it's making you this upset," Sharon said. "You can tell me."
   
Tarja slowly lifted her head, wiping the excess tears from her eyes. Sharon reached for the tissue box on the nightstand and handed it to her.
   
"Thanks." Tarja took one and gently pressed it to her eyes, then took a deep breath. "I ... it's nothing. I was on the phone with Marcelo and we just--we fought. It's not the first time."
   
She glanced at Sharon and then continued, her gaze trained on the carpet. "Things have just been so strained lately. When we first had Naomi, they both toured with me. It was a lot of work, but we had a nanny to help with her and we were together all the time. Now, he's the one at home taking care of her while I'm off on tour, and it's hard being away so much.
   
"When I come home from a tour, I'm exhausted. My battery is completely run to the ground, and I just want to rest. But Marcelo has been taking care of Naomi, taking her to preschool, and doing all the cooking and housework, and he's also exhausted. We both expect the other one to pick up the slack, to make dinner, to clean, to play with Naomi. And then we just fight more." She sniffed, dabbing her nose with the tissue.