Fourth Chair
Chapter Nine
By Missy
TITLE: Fourth Chair
PARTS: Nine of Ten
RATING: PG-13 for one adult reference and one mildly salty word; use caution.
DISTRIBUTION: To LW, FG and Kai so far; any other archives are welcome to ask, but disclaimers must be included, my email left intact. send a URL, and provide full disclaimers as well as credit me fully. Please inform me if you are going to submit my work to any sort of search engine. Â Please do not submit my work to a search engine that picks out random sets of words and uses them as key words, such as "Google"
Please contact me in order for this story to be placed on an archive, or if you want know of a friend who would enjoy my works, please email me their address and I will mail them the stories, expressly for the purpose of link trading. MiSTiers are welcomed! Please do inform me that you'd like to do the MiSTing, however, and send me a copy of the finished product. I'd also love to archive any MiSTings that are made of my work!
CATEGORY: SOL
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FEEDBACK: PLEASE?!
SPOILLER/SUMMARY: Laverne and Lenny's daughter may be a great cellist in the making; one whose intelligence makes them feel both blessed and mystified. Can they possibly let her go to New York alone?'
For Chesh
****
Aria sat, forlorn, in a park by the studio. When Lenny found her, she was halfway through a bag of Doritos, and her eyeliner had run its way off of her face.
"Ari?" she sniffled at the sound of her baby name; it had been a long time since her father had used it. "Honey, I'm sorry. I swore I wasn't ever gonna hit my kids when I grew up, cause your grandma did it to me when I was real little, an-"
"Your mom hit you?"
"Yeah; she used to stick my head through the bars of my playpen." Aria gasped, and he said feebly. "I used to think that was playin', til your ma had you."
She sniffled, but said nothing, and he bridged the gap between them by wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "Maybe ya don't know how wonderful you are."
"You say it all the time." She scoffed.
"That's 'cause you're real special!" He continued, when she made no motion. "When you was little, I didn't think I had a chance with yer ma. She was always pushin' me away, sayin' I was just her best friend."
"Really?"
"Yeah! So she went out with a bunch of guys, an' I saw a few girls, but it took us ten whole years to even start datin'. An' I knew her since I was a little kid!"
"What are you saying?"
He sighed. "Your mom and I were pretty crazy for awhile. Crazy for each other, fer livin' in Beverly Hills and hangin' out with the Stones. So, when you came along, we didn't expect you."
"Oh...you are saying I am an accident."
"No!! You were a surprise!"
"And what's Christian?"
"An experiment."
"Oh Lord..."
"Anyway, yer mom was scared, because she was afraid of bein' a mom. I was afraid of bein' a dad even worse, because I didn't really have a mom growin' up." He opened up his wallet, showing her a picture inside. "Th' doctor took this picture of you in your mom's tummy, an' I carried it around for weeks, tryin' to wrap my head around it."
"So what happened?"
"There was somethin' wrong with yer mom, at the end; they put her in bed for a month before you came. When you finally happened, they figured out you was upside down. So they cut your mom open..." Speaking about Aria's birth still frightened him, "They pulled you out, and you started yellin'."
"And Pop-pop said you should call me Aria, because I screamed like an opera singer."
"Uh-huh." He looked into her eyes. "You looked like me when you was born," He plucked an offending strand of pink hair from the crown of her head. "Ya didn't come out with hair like this!" She smiled, despite herself. "But you had yer mom's eyes." He stuck a hand in his pocket. "She was just happy that you got my nose."
"Mom's not that shallow."
"I had to talk her outta getting' a nose job!"
"No!"
"Yes!" He slapped his knee. "I like it like that; the little crook in it."
"What are you trying to say, daddy?"
He watched her face as he said. "When you was born, and I held you up in these arms...I couldn't believe you was mine, ya know? You were small, an' tiny, an'...I didn't think I could help make somethin' that pretty. Especially in yer Aunt Shirley's kitchen-"
"EEWWWW!!"
"Too much?" She nodded. "But then you went to sleep, right 'gainst my red jacket. And I knew how much I loved ya then. Not less than your mother. As much, maybe more, because you're my flesh. Now, your Ma's my blood, but you and Christian, you're my bones. I can't live without any of you, but listen here," He bit back his tears. "I love ya right now. I love ya so much that I don't want ya to have to go an' cap bottles, like yer Ma had to. I don't want ya to drive a truck, or work in a department store. I want you ta be first chair in the Phil-monica. I wanna watch you play in the Symphony hall while a buncha dancers bounce 'round in tutus. I want ya to have a big, swanky pad out in New York. I want ya to LIVE, Aria."
"I don't want to lose you!" she admitted, quietly.
"Never gonna lose me." She slumped against his chest, against the same faded jacket he had worn during her birth-possibly, to her nausea, her conception-, and cried her eyes out.
"Don't say somethin' sappy, like you're gonna always be in my heart."
"It ain't true?"
"It is. But it sounds sappy."
His lips brushed the crown of her head. "That any way for a rot girlie to behave?"
"Riott Grrl, Dad."
"That, too."
She sniffled. "I promise I won't get a tattoo."
"Good. Promise me you'll start usin' contractions."
"I am!"
They stood, making their way out of the park. "You know what?"
"What?"
"We make a good team."
"I know." She smiled. "Don't tell Uncle Squiggy. He'll get jealous."
To Chapter 8
To Chapter 10
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