a heart's end

Thirty Two

December

Monty

     Christmas in New York is nothing like in the movies. Sure, there is snow. Snow is a rare occasion in the south and it almost never comes before March. The Rockefeller Tree Lighting was pretty neat, I actually went to that with some of my theatre friends, Jean-Claire and Barnett. We've all been stressed about the play that opens in less than a month and noticed we are less stressed when doing other things. Central Park is very pretty, especially with the string of Christmas lights wrapped up in every tree. And the giant ornaments right across the street from where The Rocketts perform. But something was still missing.

Ever since Donte beat the crap out of me, Anaelle has been very vacant in my life. That was about a month ago, yet it feels like forever. My feelings still haven't changed, their never going to change. I am still madly in love with Anaelle.

"What are you thinking about, Monty?" Jean-Claire waved her hand in front of my expressionless face. We were at her apartment in Brooklyn watching some cooking show.

"What am I not thinking about." I frowned.

"Are you still thinking about her?" I never knew it, but every time I've ever complained or told a story, Jean-Claire listened. She is honestly one of my best friends, and I didn't realize that until I came back to the rehearsals bawling my eyes out in the bathroom. I was wearing the cast on my nose and everything. She wasn't afraid to waltz into my stall and pick me up. She took one look at my face and told me that she got her ass handed to her one time and it only made her more resilient. We went to dinner after rehearsals and I told her everything. We've hung out ever since.

    "Well, stop it." Her eyes brows furrowed as she was hard to take serious with her accent. "She obviously would be trying to get in touch with you if you meant something to her." She leaned against the couch and sadness radiated off my heart. "How are you feeling about the production so far?"

     "Nervous, mostly. It's like I can sit in my dorm and religiously study lines. Then when we rehearse I can never remember it the way I study. Daisy told me once that when I read verbatim from the script I sound robotic, and that it's okay to change a line or two. But I don't want to make anything sound different. I love the play the way it is." I entered her small kitchen, only feet away from the couch we were just at. Some sweet tea was calling my name, I haven't had it in so long.

    "You get so worked up over things, Montgomery. Just try and relax."

    I smirked. "You sound like Daisy." She lightly hit me in the arm when she entered the kitchen herself.

    "Speaking of Daisy, I heard she's throwing a party this weekend at that club, oh, what's the name of it?"

    "Your guess is as good as mine. I haven't been to a club since the first night I arrived in New York." That was also the first time I laid eyes on Anaelle. I didn't mention that.

    "The one on a Hundred-Third Street and Maine?" She tapped her finger against her chin and I had to think. That's right by the theatre.

    "Midnight Muse?"

    "Yes!" She exclaimed.

    "I really wouldn't count that as a club." I've only been inside once with Barnett for drinks. It's soft music playing from the piano and white tablecloths didn't give it a 'club' vibe.