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painted-bees · 2 months ago

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“It isn't for you, it's because of you.

Because of you, I can finally do this for myself.

Because I want to.

Because I trust you with it.

It's all because of you,

and I'm so fucking thankful.”

-- [Jan 28th, 2014] The weather had conspired against him.

Or perhaps it was trying to protect him. Either way, the cold snap that washed over Vancouver on this sunny January afternoon was perfectly timed to ruin the months of careful planning, frivolous spending, and emotional safeguarding Raf had done in preparation for the performance today. It was as though the sky had opened up to release every breath of warm air that the previous weeks of relentless overcast had, until now, valiantly sealed in.

To make matters worse, Raf couldn’t turn to Margie for consolation about it. She didn’t know anything about a performance happening today, and it needed to stay that way until at least 6 pm. Her distractible nature had been a huge blessing for him during the past long months of preparation and rehearsals, and this was the last day he'd have to work behind her back. He was thankful for that. Tess had whisked her out into town this morning under the pretence of finding a suitable birthday present to ‘surprise’ him with. It was an effective ruse to keep Margie busy and secreted away from him while he fulfilled the final preparations for the day’s event.

He was half expecting to arrive at Jack Poole Plaza only to be met by an unfortunate orchestra representative tasked with dispensing the bad news of postponement due to the unusual cold. Instead, the venue was abuzz with activity, warmed by the familiar din of pre-performance energy. Or rather–it was the arrangement of outdoor heaters that kept the temperature surprisingly manageable in key locations across the venue. That was one of the expenditures Raf had considered “a frivolous necessity” when he committed to it, and it was certainly paying dividends today.

“Raf!” The sound of Nels’ voice as he approached was every bit as warm as the heaters. “Boy, you sure picked a day, didn’t you?” As the older man closed the distance, one of his large hands clapped down on Raf’s shoulder with an amicable jostle.

“Well," Raf said, "no one called to postpone.” Genuine disbelief coloured his tone in a manner that wholly undermined his attempt at a half-joke.

Nels barked a laugh, “Bah! Over a little cold? No chance. But snow?” He held up a finger, “One snowflake hits that pavement and the whole city' in shut down” He looked up at the sky, wincing against the sunlight. “Thankfully not a problem today!”

Raf offered a small smirk that bordered on a grimace. “It’s not great for the instruments, though.”

“Cold feet?”

“Cold everything.”

Nels held him with a gentle but uncompromising gaze. “Train’s already moving, kiddo. Can’t stop now.”

Turning his eyes towards the stage with a relenting sigh, Raf began making strides across the vast concrete venue towards it. “Outdoor concert in the middle of winter was a terrible idea. Why didn’t anyone stop me?”

“I recall there was an attempt,” Nels said, “But, ah…You had a clear vision, a convincing argument, and a lot of money.”

“Yeah, I’m also insane. Nels, I hate crowds, I hate public events. Why am I hosting one?”

“You love the audience and,” Nels’ hand found Raf’s shoulder again, halting him before the stairs leading up to the left side of the temporary stage set-up. “You love Margie. That’s the kind of insanity that drove all this. She adores this sort of thing. She’s gonna be beside herself. Inconsolable, even. And you know that. That’s why you’re doing this.”

“Mmh.” That was a swing and a miss, but Raf had no desire to engage in the pedantry dissecting his own mercurial motivations, and so, he was content to leave it there.

Recognizing the full stop in Raf’s voice, Nels clapped his hands together and led the way onto the stage. “Well-! Things here are looking and sounding well on our end. Security’s all set. It’s not going to be a flood of people all at once but, as you can see,” he gestured out towards the plaza, “We’ve already got a population of curious loiterers. We’re wrapping up the last of the sound tests. Speaking of–!”

Nels turned his attention to the microphone set up at the front, centre of the stage. Raf intended to follow, but paused at the sight of Naomi making her way over from the other side. She made he way in brisk strides, holding out her open palms in a gesture both of greeting and surprise.

“Ooh, you showed up!”

Raf regarded her with a lopsided smirk and a curt, upward nod of his chin. “Was I not supposed to?”

She rubbed her hands together and squeezed the fingertips of one hand in the palm of her other. “Dunno, Ephrem. How you feelin' about it?”

“Trying not to,” Raf admitted. “But it’s mostly fine. I’ve got Kill Bill sirens going off in my head a bit. First time I’ve ever managed something like this myself, but I am managing, so–” With a Super Mario-pitched voice, and a weak upward pump of his fist, he concluded, “Wahoo.” An aptly appropriated Margie-ism.

“Man, shut the fuck up. You ain’t managing nothin’ yourself this time, either.” She scoffed loudly. “C’mon I ain’t out here at bitch o’clock in balls degree weather doin’ this shit just so you can tell me you ain’t got no help. Be for real.”

“That’s not what I–”

“I know,” she gave him a playful scowl before throwing her hands up in an exaggerated gesture of arrest, “I’m playin’! Jeez, Eph, control your temper, chill. Damn, why you always gotta be yellin’?”

“Boy, I’m going tah rip your face off.” His stiff posture, quirked eyebrow, and uncharacteristic transatlantic accent delivered his threat with all the seriousness he intended.

“And ruin your manicure? Girl, you’ll cry.”

Their short drama play ended with a defusing snort of laughter shared between the two of them.

Thumbing her nose with a sniff, Naomi attempted some honest reassurance. “I think you did a pretty good job, all things considered. Hired the right folks for certain.” She grinned at the compliment as she paid it to herself.

From their place in the corner of the stage, they both looked out over the set-up and across the venue. The stage itself was populated mostly with venue staff and Hi-Note technicians working in collaboration with each other to make sure things sounded great, looked great, and that no one would kill themselves on any of the countless cables that snaked across the floor.

Beyond the stage, the last of the temporary barriers and crowd management measures were being organised and installed. Raf himself didn’t know what to expect in that regard, and had no option but to trust that the venue staff knew what they were doing. At the very least, a free admission orchestral event wasn’t new to them. One such concert had been hosted here in the summer, and just like that one, this event was advertised months in advance to draw out as large a crowd as possible. But he hadn’t been the one to advertise it. In fact, he had explicitly forbidden any mention of him or of a vocal performance at all. No, this was advertised in a manner similar to the summer’s concert. And indeed, the programme would be much the same–but it would end with his performance.

Even as the staff set about their tasks, a budding population of curious doddlers seemed content to wander and wait around for something exciting to begin. It was a lot to hold in his head, and there were countless variables he had no control over–many of which relied on the cooperation of other people. Complete strangers. An overwhelming number of things could and likely would go wrong, and anything that went right would only do so thanks to luck. At least–that’s what his gut told him.

It would be the first concert he’d perform, without Margie, in almost a decade. It would be the first performance without her that centred him since…

Since Ephrem Records. A chill unrelated to the cold forced him to shudder visibly, and he steadied himself with an automatic, curtly huffed sigh. This was not that. He had stared that beast directly in the eyes, he had walked into its horrifying, revenous maw and–

He came back home. Safe. Sound. Completely unscathed.

It–that–Ephrem Records and the nightmares within it had no control over him anymore. Though it had tried, it couldn’t keep him. That cage door had fallen off its hinges and would no longer close on him. It was a freedom he had had never in his life known before.

Beside him, Naomi had turned her gaze to watch him. “Remember after Lacey ditched? How you said you weren’t never gonna get on stage for anyone anymore?”

“Mmhm.”

“You been cancellin’ shit all the time because you just ain’t gonna perform if you don’t wanna.”

“Mmhm.”

“But you’re here. Today. Like--your birthday’s tomorrow. You didn't wanna take it easy for that?”

Raf turned his head to cast a very slight, wry smile down towards her. “Mmh, nah.”

Her eyes lit up under the validating glow of his expression. “Nooo, see! I was gonna ask who you doin’ this for, really? But that shit eating grin–” a cackle punctuated her sentence. “This ain't for Margie. Is it?”

Naomi’s laugh infected him well enough to let out a small snort of laughter all his own. “She'd hate it if it was. No, I just--wanted to see for myself if...Uh. This wouldn't kill me."

"I've been sayin', too, Margie ain't about seeing you freak out for her!" Naomi clasped her hands together and dipped forward in an elated gesture. "Well, you don't look like you're dying."

"Yeah--I don' think I will. "

–

“Raf’s impossible to shop for. I don’t know what we were expecting to find.” Margie's conclusion arrived at the end of a long day spent following Tess around the whole, wide city in search of a gift for a man who placed very little value on material wealth. “There’s nothing we could buy that he couldn't afford himself. And it’s hard to put proper thought into it when it’s so last minute.” There was tired frustration in her voice.

Savouring a strawberry frappe through a bent straw, Cortes remained wholly unbothered by the state of affairs. With a shrug, her free hand gestured to sign a sloppily composed, “Raf’s birthday gift can be all the friends we met along the way.”

Margie let out one of her conversationally reflexive little giggles. “Yeah, yeah! All none of them.”

The sun had already begun to sink beneath the city skyline, and in its wake the clear sky was turning a shade of deep indigo. An already frigid day was turning into an even colder night. Too cold to be out walking along the seawall. Tess’s choice of a blended iced beverage was nothing short of absurd but, just like the failure of their gift-hunting quest, the freezing cold seemed to have no ill effect on Cortes whatsoever. While Margie’s breath hung like a ghost in the air and caused an uncomfortable moisture to collect on the fraying filaments of her scarf, Tess suffered no such inconvenience. Margie was bundled for warmth, but Tess wore her winter layers only for the aesthetic of it.

Without looking at her, Tess signed with languid gestures, “We should probably head home, now. I’m getting bored.”

Margie might have agreed, but something else tugged her attention. She grabbed Tess's arm to halt her. “Hang on, shh!”

A pause.

A swell of string and brass carried itself on the chill ocean breeze. It wasn’t uncommon to hear music playing from the various shops and storefronts that lined the city streets, especially during the holiday months. But…

“Does that sound live to you?”

Tess appeared to listen for a moment longer before shrugging.

“It’s coming from the plaza.”

Another shrug from Tess preceded an inquiring forefinger flopped with mild indifference towards the stairs leading out of the park, up towards the convention centre.

Margie nodded and shook Tess’s arm in her grip. “Yeah, I just wanna looksee!”

With one last resigned shrug, Cortes allowed Margie to lead the way forward.

As they crested the wide staircase, the plaza greeted them with an array of bright, warm lights and a buzz of activity. Margie immediately b-lined to read one of the standing signs that named the event to her.

“Wait, no! What? This was today?” She turned a baleful gaze up at Tess. “We missed the summer one, so I was gonna tell Raf about this one. But I thought it was like–next month!” She gestured with both arms towards the banner sign. “Free concert! VMO! Tess! I’m so upset!” Dropping her arms to her side, Margie slouched under the weight of her disappointment. “This woulda been a perfect birthday gift for him. Why did I think it was in February?”

Tess’s hand came down gently upon the top of Margie’s head in a placating pat-pat. At the same time, an unfamiliar man’s voice addressed them from the side.

“Excuse me, Ma’am?”

Glancing up, Margie watched the man approach, well dressed for the weather with a bright yellow and black jacket. “Genesis Security” was emblazoned in bold, white letters across the breast and shoulder. He wasn’t addressing her. The man’s gaze was locked firmly onto Tess.

“Ma’am,” he repeated, “I've been instructed to show you to your seat, if you’ll please follow me.”

“Woah...” Margie watched the guy's back as he began to lead the way forward through the plaza. "How does this keep happening to you?" It seemed that no matter where Tess went, there was always something special waiting for her. People treated her like a rock star, honored by her mere presence. Apparently, this was just another such instance.

Shrug. Tess tapped on the shoulder of the security guard and locked eyes with him before pointing to Margie, then to herself, and then back to Margie again.

With a nod, the guard responded, “I don't see why not. But let's hurry. Show's half done by now.”

The guard made haste, Tess kept in stride, and Margie was forced to shuffle quite swiftly in order to keep up. As she did so, her hands fumbled around in her pockets until they found her phone.

“I should call Raf, maybe he can make it in time if he’s still at Hi-Note!” Neither Tess nor the guard in front of her said anything to discourage the thought, and so Margie hit his name in on quick-dial and waited for him to pick up.

Instead, she was immediately met with the robotic voice of his service provider.

With a small groan of disappointment, Margie lowered her phone to send a text message, muttering under her breath, “Why is your phone turned off, you wiener?”

The two of them were led through the well populated venue towards the very frontmost row of seating, where Tess was presented with two vacant seats.

“Oh,” Margie took her seat next to Tess, “Raf wouldn’t have been able to sit with us, anyways.”

Perhaps sensing the tinge of melancholy in her voice, Tess reached over to wrap an arm around Margie’s shoulders and pulled her in close. With a sigh, Margie nestled herself cozily against Tess and made the conscious effort to shift her attitude and appreciate the free show with her ever patient girlfriend. It was thanks to Tess that she got to see this performance at all–and with that thought, Margie was able to replace her disappointment for failing their day’s objective with thankfulness towards the present moment.

The orchestra played an enjoyable, eclectic selection of compositions, most of which Margie couldn’t name. Perhaps the only one she properly recognized was the Star Wars theme, which stood out somewhat comedically against the others–all of which she had assumed to be classical pieces.

The final piece–or rather, what was presented as the final piece–was no doubt Tchaikovsky. She knew Tchaikovsky. Just…not well enough to name his compositions. But this was definitely him! To her ears, everything sounded beautiful. Had Raf been there, he might have identified nuances in the performance, both good and bad, highlighting them to her so that she might be able to notice them, too. There was a shared enjoyment between them for that kind of thing. In contrast, Tess was a remarkably stoic and quiet person to sit with when it came to anything involving live music. Her enormous, dark eyes stared unblinking as she listened; transfixed by the intricate braiding of sounds. Her long, lithe fingers twirled themselves repeatedly into the stray curls of Margie’s hair. It was a tiny, thoughtless, but comfortingly intimate gesture. Despite the best efforts of the late January weather, Magritte felt remarkably warmed.

Tchaikovsky came to an end, and both she and Tess contributed to the roar of applause that persisted even as the musicians stood to leave, abandoning their instruments on the stage.

Keeping with the applause, Margie leaned towards Tess’s ear. “Sit tight, there’s prolly gonna be a–oop, yep!”

Her statement was confirmed before she even had time to finish saying it, as the musicians quickly emerged to retake their seats on the stage. As they did, Margie stopped clapping, waiting to hear if their encore was a song she could identify. As the rest of the applause died down, two additional figures took position onto the stage; a trio of previously absent musicians took positions on the stage. Or, at least–if they had been present previously, they were on entirely different instruments, now. Three electric guitars, one of which was a bass.

Margie squinted at the rightmost guitarist and her bumblebee-yellow Kramer. “Oh, woah–is that Naomi? Tess, you see her!?” She couldn’t help but pick up an applause with an exhilarated whoop at seeing a friendly face among the cast of talented strangers.

It worked to catch Naomi’s attention, and Margie was rewarded with an acknowledging little wave, bright smile, and a thumbs up.

Clasping her hands together, Margie leaned back in her seat with a delighted giggle. “That’s so cool, this is gonna be so good!”

A blanket of quiet settled upon the venue, and after a moment's pause, the orchestra’s instruments sprang to life once more. The number opened with a swelling whirl of notes that immediately swept Margie’s imagination into the realm of Broadway romance. And then–

She heard his voice.

A pleasing falsetto that wove itself beautifully into the airy strings, Margie knew who she was hearing before he had even walked onto the stage. One note was all it took.

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I got inspired to post cringe, I hope you like it lmaooo About a year prior to these events, Margie and Tess had accompanied Raf to a very emotionally turbulent trip to Monaco. It wasn't a vacation, and it wasn't what any of them would describe as particularly enjoyable...Perhaps some day, we'll learn more about what happened there and why he went. One thing that did happen, on a very desperate whim, is that Raf had asked Margie to marry him. No real proposal--something asserted on the spot, motivated more by fear than anything else. Margie said yes, of course--but only on the condition that he ask her again once they were settled back home in Vancouver. She said--promised--she wasn't going to bring it up again unless he brought it up first; that there was no pressure for him to repeat the question once he was feeling comfortable and secure again. It's just--he seemed too emotionally compromised for Margie to really accept the proposal as one that was offered to her with soundness of mind. And so--to ensure that it was something he actually meant--she would forget it was asked at all, until he brought it up again on his own accord upon their return to Canada. No need to any special occasion, now jewelry, none of that--just ask the same way he did in Monaco...but without the undercurrent of panic coloring his judgement. They returned from Monaco safe and sound, and neither Margie nor Raf breathed a word about the Monaco proposal. Margie assumed Raf forgot--or perhaps he had come to his better senses and no longer felt like his well being and safety relied on lawfully locking down their relationship together. As she had expected would be the case. On the other hand, Raf had waited two months to see if Margie would bring it up at all, or if she'd stick to her promise and release him from the obligation of following through. To him, it seemed like she had completely forgotten; ss though he had never asked her to marry him at all. Unbeknownst to her, he hadn't changed his mind. The fact that she wouldn't so much as even allude to it for his sake only imbued further confidence in his decision. She had been with him through hell and high water, she was there in all the ways she promised to be, she gave him the space and the grace he needed, carried him through some of his lowest days, and kept him safe when he was certain no one in the world ever could. She loved him during his worst days, and shouldered his worst behaviors only because she loved being with him. She never asked him for anything spectacular. She never wished to see him spend the limit of his resources on her. She only ever wished to enjoy things with him--and his enjoyment was a critical part of that desire. Over the several years they had been together, one thing became abundantly clear; Margie deserved every good thing he could grant her. Margie could be trusted to receive his best efforts and his greatest gifts without ruin. And for the first time in his life, he wanted to give those to someone--to her. Because it felt right. Because he'd love doing so. Because she fucking deserved it. Performances had become pretty comfortable for Raf by this point. He, Margie, and Tess had been doing them on the semi-regular before certain events dragged him back to Monaco. Even his post performance PTSD episodes--while still present--were far more manageable than they had ever been. He no longer plagued with week-long emotional lows that greatly overshadowed the euphoria of a great performance. Things just felt...more balanced.

Enough so that Raf decided his proposal to Magritte would, itself, be a performance. Planned and organized by him, with the help of Hi-Note. If he could organize an perform a concert as a gift for someone he loved--without succumbing to abject terror and paranoia at any point during the months of preparation--well... That kind of freedom over himself would be the best gift he's ever received. And so--he planned the performance/proposal for his birthday. Margie watched the last half of the orchestra concert with Tess, having no idea that Raf would be the encore act. Tess, of course, had been in on it as a collaborator. She knew the guard would address her for the seating--they had met prior as part of the preparations. She and Raf both knew that Margie wouldn't find anything suspect in the fact that Tess would be spontaneously offered some kind of V.I.P seating. Tess's ridiculous, ambiguous "celebrity status" had basically become a meme between them at this point. It wasn't unusual... It was all planned. And everything played out pretty well according to that plan. Once Raf too the stage, Tess pulled Margie out of her seat and led her to the stage (exchanging a thumbs-up with Nels along the way). Margie followed along in good fun. By this point, she knew shenanigans were afoot--and slipped into her role very agreeably once Nels confirmed that, yes, she's expected on the stage. She was happy to play along.

The dance she and Raf "perform" wasn't any choreographed thing. Rather, it's the same kind of lackadaisical dancing they'd often do in their livingroom at home haha. And then...there was no more performance...just overwhelm and joy and a lot of love...and Kirby rings lmaooo which made her even MORE overwhelmed. And then the rest of the night was just one big overjoyed, emotional blur. Okay, I've typed too much...this is all very silly, but I made it so you can have the whole bunch of it! Bonus: The next morning, they woke up with a terrible cold...and spent the entire day recovering in bed lmao

(happy birthday, Raf lmao).

#Hi-Note #Rafael #Magritte #Tess #I'M CRINGE BUT I AM SO FREEEE #Youtube

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