Work Text:
February, 2023.
The smell of freshly brewed coffee eased the nerves that very morning at the Goodnow household, Sharon could very much use a slow and calm morning to protect her inner peace from the bomb that will drop in an hour or so. Her introverted nature kept her mostly in her mind that early morning, not many words had left her mouth. Not even a pile of fresh pancakes placed in front of her were able to bring her back from whatever planet she was on.
The furtive blue eyes watched unashamed as Sharon remained stuck in a world of her own, casually holding her cup of coffee, while quietly observing the stillness going on in the balcony. At the echo sound of her name being called in the background, was when the konzertmeister returned to her senses. “Sharon?” She saw a pair of worried blue orbs looking right into hers, as the tall slim woman waved her right hand to grab her attention. “Hallo? Erde an Sharon…” (Hello? Earth to Sharon…) As a grin materialized on the woman’s lips, Sharon pursed hers into a smile as well, slightly frowning. “Möchtest du mir sagen, wo du bist?” (Care to tell me where you are?)
“Tschuldigung…” (Sorry) The doe blue eyes moved down in subtle shame, “Ich bin keine gute Begleitung, oder?” (I’m not a good company, am I?) Sharon proffered as her skilled violinist fingers played with the half empty cup of coffee. The older one smoothly bent over the counter, the four blue eyes were now locked, yet, Goodnow’s held some sort of concernment.
"Nein... Ich wünschte nur, dass deine Angst es dir ermöglichen würde, Dinge zu genießen.” (No… I just wish your anxiety allowed you to enjoy things) Sharon scoffed. She had seen nothing yet. “Wie schlimm kann es sein?” (How bad can it be?)
The konzertmeister tried taming her uneasiness, she quickly took a sip of her coffee as she scratched the nape of her neck in distress. “Ich habe sie seit Monaten nicht gesehen.” (I haven’t seen her in months) The thick eyebrows frowned as the blue eyes stared into the void, it felt just as if she'd got swept back to the planet she was on just seconds ago. “Wir telefonieren nur. Petra ist der einzige Grund.” (We only talk on the phone, Petra’s the only reason).
“Haben Sie jemals gestritten?” (Have you ever argued?)
“Ein paar Mal… Sozusagen.” (A couple times… So to speak.) Goodnow glanced at the blues in front of her, they remained highly attentive. “Sie hielten nicht sehr lange.” (They didn’t last very long). It’s only been a few months, but time’s passed differently for the blonde since the outcome. If only she knew Sharon still flinches at the mention of her name. It’s almost like her presence haunts every inch of the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra, as if Goodnow heard the distinguished sound of her baton being whipped in the air.
“Nun, es wird nichts passieren. Sie können mir beim Wort glauben.” (Well, nothing will happen. You can take my word for it.) The older one reached for Sharon’s restless palms. “Petra ist hier, du willst keine Szene machen, oder?” (Petra’s here. You don’t want to make a scene, do you?) Her lips left a delicate peck on the konzertmeister’s knuckles, causing Sharon to frown once again, reassured this time.
“Danke, Liesl.” (Thank you, Liesl) Sharon’s eyes expressed rather fondness. “Du bist zu gut für mich.” (You’re too good for me.)
“Es ist nichts, mein Schatz,” (It’s nothing, my darling) Goodnow suddenly felt a shiver up her spine at the pet name, but was able to conceal it. “Jetzt iss etwas, ja?” (Now eat something, will you?). As Liesl turned her back to the konzertmeister to make another batch of pancakes, Goodnow wondered if she somehow sensed her unanticipated mild reaction. For her bad luck, Sharon disposed of a very expressive face, and her lover was perhaps as observant as herself. She silently wishes she hasn’t “Die nächsten sind für Petra. Soll ich sie in Einhornform machen?” (The next ones are for Petra, should I make them unicorn shaped?)
“Oh, hast du es nicht gehört?” (Oh, haven’t you heard?) The curly-haired proffered as she was about to take a bite of her breakfast, Bachmann turned to face her lover sitting meters away, while holding a spatula. “Sie steht nicht mehr auf Einhörner. Sie ist jetzt ein großes Mädchen.” (She’s not into unicorns anymore. She’s a big girl now.)
“Oh, ist sie jetzt? Seit wann? (Oh, is she now? Since when?)
“Vor einigen Wochen.” (A few weeks ago)
Liesl placed one of her hands on her hips, "Und worauf steht sie heutzutage?” (And what is she into these days?)
The curly-haired finished chewing her pancakes with powdered sugar, “Dinos” (Dinosaurs), Sharon said with all the seriousness in the world, only to burst out laughing afterwards, causing Liesl to follow her along.
As the two lovers shared the first of the many laughs of that morning, a somewhat jumpy and fussy Petra left her messy bedroom, with her untamable curls, still wearing her purple unicorn pajamas, in spite of getting into a mild argument with her mother last night about not wanting to wear it, since unicorns were silly and she was way past that phase. “Mama!”
“Ja?” (Yeah?) She said it out loud, followed by a quick sip of her morning coffee. As the 6 year-old approached, Goodnow noticed the dissatisfaction on her lovely features, she was one cry away from a tantrum.
“Where’s that blue dress? I want to wear it today… I can’t find it anywhere,” the little one hesitantly said, sometimes stumbling into her words.
“Das langärmlige, das sie dir zum Geburtstag geschenkt hat?” (The long-sleeved one she got you for your birthday?) Petra nodded. The konzertmeister seemed to think briefly. “Oh, ich weiß nicht, Schatz, muss in der Wäsche sein…” (Oh, I don’t know honey, must be in the laundry…)
A deep long sigh went past the pouty lips, as the little girl hung her head down in complete disappointment. She’d been planning on wearing it since the moment she knew her dad was flying to Berlin only to spend an entire day with her. Lydia loved that dress.
Goodnow’s palms rested on her daughter’s heavy shoulders, leaving the chair she was sitting on to crouch and look directly into the brown eyes she loved so dearly. “Petra, don’t give me that, it’s fine, you can wear something else. Dad will find you beautiful anyway.” Her voice remained imposing, yet comforting. A reassuring smile grew on the German’s lips, it was enough for Petra to feel a little more relaxed. “Okay?”
The brunette nodded, soon feeling Sharon’s loving touch on her chubby cheeks. “Beeilung, das Frühstück ist fast fertig” (Hurry, breakfast it almost ready) , the violinist said, as the girl excitedly rushed back into her chaotic chamber.
And there was Bachmann standing next to the stove, contemplating the mother-daughter interaction with such fondness. Motherhood had never been a desire of hers, much less pregnancy; her dysfunctional family made her realize that rather early in life. Cliche thoughts such as: ‘ Why bring a child to this ongoing suffering that is life?’ crossed her mind constantly, but after meeting and growing closer and closer with Sharon everyday she was starting to have a change of heart.
Despite the nights where the curly-haired blonde searched for protection and comfort in her arms after Petra gave her a difficult time, or after a long, hard day, Sharon still made motherhood feel effortless. Their lives crossed paths so she could play the role of Petra’s mom, and she had been preparing for it her whole life. Sharon was a natural.
“Petra ist so ein tolles Kind…” (Petra is such a great kid) Liesl started as she flipped the pancake on the pan, looking over her shoulder and sighting Sharon’s smirk. “Wie machen Sie es? Bei dir sieht es so einfach aus…” (How do you do it? You make it look so easy...)
Scoffing as she hugged her own torso, Sharon caressed her chilly bare arms. “Früher war es einfacher.” (It used to be easier.)
Lydia made it easier. The konzertmeister longed to say.
As time dragged itself, the attentive blue orbs kept glancing at each clock around her that she could find every five or seven minutes. The bomb was supposed to drop by, precisely, an hour and fifty minutes ago. Very unlike her. Sharon thought. All those years they’ve spent together one of Tár’s few virtuous traits was her punctuality. She always knew exactly what time it was.
Goodnow sat on her desk with her laptop opened, the screen reflecting a budget spreadsheet of one of her charity works. She had a tough time focusing or getting any work done, as her anxiety anticipated her brief reunion with Lydia, and everything that could go south. The konzertmeister swam so deeply through her own thoughts, that she barely heard the doorbell ring.
The infamous snooty, confused look was back as soon as she saw the door open. “Hello?” The maestro started hesitantly. The blue eyes roamed through every possible detail about the tall, blonde, slim woman with cheekbones that could cut glass standing right before her. Whoever that was, she seemed to be slightly older. Innocence, that’s what she exhaled.
Two peas in a pod, very bold, Goodnow. She thought.
Scoffing internally at her little private joke, a sardonic smirk grew on the corners of her lips, it couldn’t be more amusing.
“You must be Lydia,” Liesl continued, her accent evident, as she emphasized the consonants.
“Guilty.” The blonde comically raised her right palm as a sign of peace. Both women allowed silence to step into their odd conversation, Lydia used those brief five seconds or so to examine a few little particular features that went unnoticed just before. Tár was willing to make that conversation go as awkward as she possibly could.
At the sight of the woman swallowing dry, “And you are?” She asked in that same arrogant tone.
“Oh, I’m sorry… I’m so—” She gesticulates a lot, either she’s nervous or that was her normal self , Lydia noticed. “I’m— I’m Liesl…” Among nervousness, Bachmann held out her hand while holding a shy grin and sweet, squinting eyes on her features. So nice it’s almost idiotic.
Up on the podium of pride, Lydia looked down on the extended hand and automatically forced a smile before shaking it quickly.
“We were waiting for you—”
“We?” As she interrupted the taller woman, Tár’s eyebrows raised in slight scoffing.
“Sharon and I, we—” Liesl was interrupted by the konzertmeister’s arrival at the front door this time.
“We didn’t know if you’d come.” Goodnow barged into the awkward conversation with her sharp tone and displeased features. As Liesl stepped back and glanced down in discomfort, Sharon moved forward to stand face to face with the maestro. Tár, holding a mocking smirk on her lips, rapidly played with the hem of her coat’s sleeve, looking away for a second, just to stare into those eyes again.
Now with her arms crossed, seeming more annoyed than ever, Goodnow’s orbs roamed through Lydia’s figure swiftly, only to find a recent mild hickey slightly peeking out beneath her black turtleneck. Of course. Sharon scoffed internally.
Lydia stared at her so intensely she could almost read her thoughts.
Without saying a word, Sharon turned her back to reenter the penthouse, Liesl held the door and looked back up again as Lydia passed by, the taller blonde had a forced smile fluttering on her lips. Tár took a good look around, how much can a place change in less than a year? Not much, apparently. Everything was just as she remembered. Her mahogany piano stood at the same spot, looking as morbid as ever. Petra mustn’t have started her lessons yet.
“Looks the same as when I left,” Still looking up, she rolled up her sleeves, a cynical grin stamped on her face. Sharon turned to face her for a moment, throwing her a judgy, unfriendly look.
“Petra fell asleep while waiting for you,” added the konzertmeister, heading to sit on the sofa. Mindlessly following her, Lydia sat on the opposite one, and watched Liesl as she took place right beside her (still) wife. What a sight .
Tár’s eyes were squinted in mockery, almost feeling sorry for herself. Goodnow was manspreading, with her elbows over both knees, with both hands clasped together. Bachmann on the other hand, had her palms resting on her lap, her knees joined, looking down, overcomed by shyness and embarrassment.
Silence prevailed, as Lydia and Sharon went through a staring contest, just like the one they had the night she left.
“Uh— You arrived in Berlin yesterday, right?” Liesl was just trying to make small talk, to excuse herself from further discomfort.
“Yes, yes… At night.”
“A nice night, I bet.” Goodnow added.
Busted.
Usually she had answers on the tip of her tongue, but Sharon always finds ways to catch her off guard. She sulked for a moment, “New York can be quite boring.” The blue eyes squinted again, and beneath them a modest grin.
Scoffing, “You don’t really believe that,” the konzertmeister replied in retaliation. Silence stepped in once again, only for Sharon to throw it out the window altogether. “You’re teaching now?”
“Yeah, ” She said in a sigh, then shrugged, moving her eyes down in shame of her professional decay. “The Fellowship is ongoing in New York now. I’m all by myself. Well… The program’s become smaller but Andris was able to help me establish it after the robot chickened out—”
“Chickened out?” Sharon repeated in slight incredulity. Her German’s noticeable this time. “You punched him, Tár.”
Lydia let out a snort, followed by headshakes, her mouth opened crookedly, in disbelief. Another staring contest.
“So… Who do you teach?” Asks Liesl again, tossing away the silence.
Tár hesitated, anticipating Goodnow’s reaction. “Young women…”
Sharon was the one who snorted this time, looking away briefly. Only Tár didn’t notice her quick frown caused by the images of Olga, Francesca, Krista that popped in her mind.
A sigh went past the broad lips, “God this feels like an interview…” Suddenly the maestro locked eyes with her twin-from-another-mother, at the sight of the squinting orbs, Bachmann mindlessly held her breath. “Liesl… What about you?” Sharon watched Lydia’s little show, in silent amusement, which could never reflect on her features.
“What about me?” She said in hesitation.
“What do you do?” Her low voice sent shivers down Goodnow’s spine.
Liesl seemed to lock eyes with her lover briefly, seemingly a bit lost, as if she needed permission to start talking. “Uh— I’m a violin teacher,” Tár nodded with a pout and raised eyebrows, clearly not giving a single fuck. “I teach kids… Well— Pre-teens. That’s how Sharon and I met… At her new charity program.” The couple locked eyes briefly, as Bachmann searched for the konzertmeister’s hand. Lydia sensed the discomfort Sharon exhaled.
“New charity program?” The maestro asked with joined eyebrows.
“ The Mutter Initiative. For underprivileged children… Liesl is one of the teachers” Sharon added.
“Oh… That’s adorable.” Lydia said monotonously, her arrogant nature exhaling once again. At the sight of their shoulders touching and hands clasped, the maestro felt a twinge in the back of her throat.
“Mama?” Petra’s adorable voice echoed throughout those brutalist tall walls, as she looked for Sharon, making Lydia’s features melt into a mellow one. Entranced by her little girl’s tone, she moved her gaze to where the sound was coming from and stood up from the couch.
As the 6 year-old’s tiny figure peeked from the corridor into the living room, she rubbed her sleepy eyes. The sight in front of her remained a bit blurry, but as her vision became clearer she saw her father with a big smile, crouched and with open arms, waiting for her to jump into them.
“Petra! Come here darling!” As she said out loud, Sharon noticed her voice tainted by emotion. These few months felt like long, unbearable years, how she missed her dear little girl.
The tiny legs ran as fast as they could. Petra looked lovely in her blue buttoned up dress, pink coat, yellow thighs and blue sneakers, a look picked by the little girl herself to spend a special day with her dad.
Lydia’s embrace felt like home, a home she didn’t return to for a long time. The skilled pianist’s fingers roamed through the velvety curls, as she pulled the little one closer and closer against her body, smelling her sweet scent. The blonde muttered “I missed you so much, my darling” constantly against her hair. “Let me take a look at you.”
The blue eyes stared at the browns lovingly, as Lydia caressed her chubby cheeks. Petra couldn’t help but smile, that’s when Tár finally noticed her missing-tooth. “Oh, look how beautiful you are. You’re such a big girl now.” The maestro’s touch went further down the girl’s arms, then hands, in the meantime her features held a demure frown.
As they left the former Goodnow-Tár household, the sight couldn’t be more adorable. Lydia held Petra’s hand with all the care in the world, as the curly-haired found herself amused by the cars passing by, while holding the hem of her little yellow backpack with the opposite hand.
As both approached it, Petra’s attention was caught by Lydia’s rented cherry colored 1967 Ford Mustang, the little girl soon felt paralyzed as her dad walked over to open the vehicle door. “That’s yours?” Petra asked, slightly stupefied.
“Nah, it was the only one they had at the rental place in such short notice. Not for me… But she’s pretty huh?” As Tár held a proud grin on her lips, Petra excitedly rushed to comfort herself on the backseat.
Just seconds before starting the car, Lydia fixed the rearview mirror so she could take a good look at her daughter’s lively browns and silly smile. “Excited to watch the String Quarter ’s concert with me?”
It didn’t take long for Petra’s smile to fade as fast as they came. Lydia’s eyebrows joined in confusion, as she contemplated the sight of the 6 year-old with her head hanging and fiddling with her dress. “Now what is it, Petra?” The blonde asked in slight dissatisfaction. As the little one hesitated in speaking her mind, the broad lips released a sigh she barely knew she was holding. “Honey… What’s wrong?” Petra’s gaze met Tár’s, as she turned to face the child.
“It’s just… I go to concerts all the time with mom. I thought we’d do something different for once…”
As the maestro seemed to think for a while, her lips pouted. At the sight of hopefulness in Petra’s eyes, Lydia wore the tiny 6 year-old’s shoes for a moment and thought how tedious and repetitive it must be to grow up with classical musician parents, whose only fun’s become attending three-hours long concerts.
“Alright, kid. You won!” The smiles from both parts were more than evident. “Where should we go?”
Tár observed Petra with bliss, as the little girl had a hard time concealing her excitement. “Maybe— Maybe we can go to the Dinosaur Museum, or the Zoo, or— or maybe to the—” Petra ranted nonstop. A giggly Lydia had to intervene, before her daughter had a heart attack at the age of six on her watch.
“Easy, easy, kid…” She said in between chuckles. “Those are quite scientific choices… I like it…” Her chubby cheeks blushed. “We can go to the Zoo first, then stop by Naturkunde to take a look at the fossils, and maybe finish our day on a high note, go to the park and eat cotton candies bigger than our heads.” If Petra’s eyes were sparkling before, now they were diamonds. “What do you say, smartypants?”
“Yes!” Her little girl squealed in the backseat, while raising her arms up in total victory. Lydia went back to watching her through the rearview mirror, with a pleasant smile hanging on her lips.
As she started the car, miles away from her former household, the maestro put one of the Ford’s windows down, followed by the two concert tickets being tossed and losing themselves across Berlin’s cold streets altogether.
True to her word, Lydia provided Petra with beautiful memories on her first trip to the zoo. The little girl became overly excited as soon as they got the tickets, and was more than eager to get to see the animals she'd only seen on a screen.
Overwhelmed by enthusiasm, during their wandering, Petra's grip escaped Lydia's, and the maestro watched the curly-haired rapidly lose herself in the middle of that German crowd, that was one of the very few times Lydia knew what panic really was; Luckily, after finding her enchanted by the gorillas meters away; after a quick warning, the little girl behaved perfectly.
Not even the blue eyes hidden behind her Tom Ford shades could avoid the judgy and sketchy looks from people passing by. They recognized her, undoubtedly. Pushing a conductor away from the podium usually went unnoticed when everything happened in the background, with a few strings pulled here and there; But in front of an actual audience? Quite hard to erase that from their brains. Nevertheless, Tár brushed it away and did her best to enjoy the leisure time with her little zoo guide, who often dropped random facts and questions during their long walk.
As they arrived in Naturkunde, Lydia watched her daughter as she walked those large, endless corridors with sparkles permeating the brown eyes she so adored at the sight of every fossil. Tár couldn’t help but take her phone from her pocket and register that lovely moment of Petra in awe, looking up at the Triceratops’ reconstruction, as the guide explained the diet of such giant reptiles.
While their visit stretched on, Lydia felt the 6 year-old’s enthusiasm growing dim and her introspective nature emerging. The maestro watched curiously the display of a fossils’ little structure before noticing Petra rubbing her eyes and looking down in slight boredom. “Come here, darling,” the blonde bent down to grab the child in her arms, and Petra took it fondly, as she rested her head against her dad’s shoulder.
“Lydia…” Petra whispered with her eyes closed as the maestro continued their walk. “Did you know Compso— Campnat —” The little girl had a hard time pronouncing the dinosaur type.
Tár let out a giggle, “ Compsognathus ?” She helped her out.
“Yeah, them… Did you know they measured around only 70 to 140cm?” She finished looking in Lydia’s eyes to catch her reaction, with both arms around her neck.
“Really?” Lydia let out in fake shock, of course she knew that already. Petra stared at her with googly eyes, as she nodded. “You’re a Compsognathus then, right? Judging by your height…” Her joke made Petra roll her eyes in amusement.
“When I become an adult I’m gonna be as tall as you and mom.”
“What kind of dino is mom?”
“Mm…” The little one took her time to think. “Maybe a Brachlo—” She had difficulty pronouncing it also.
“You mean a Brachiosaurus ?”
“Yeah… ‘Cause she’s the tallest and has the longest neck.”
That earned a giggle from the blonde. “Can’t argue with that…”
“And you are…” Petra’s eyes permeated her dad’s features for a moment. “You’re a T-Rex!” She said in excitement, causing Lydia’s eyebrows to join in confusion.
“A T-Rex?! Why?”
“Cause you’re angry and scary.”
She didn’t see that coming. Tár looked at her little girl in slight disbelief. “Am I?”
“Sometimes,” Petra went back to cuddling her dad while they headed out the museum. Lydia frowned in silence, feeling somewhat hurt by her daughter’s perception of herself. Her mind took her back to Petra’s arrival to the family, and how she took a while to adapt to a new baby, especially an adopted, undeveloped child who had gone through more traumas than most adults could endure; Sharon was right in saying children sensed most things.
Despite Petra's alleged tiredness, she seemed to liven up after Tár’s reminder about the once promised cotton candy. Once they got into the vehicle and headed to the park, the little girl went back to babbling non-stop, Lydia wondered if Petra pretended to be tired at the museum as an excuse to be picked up and avoid walking to the exit door. The idea of it caused a smirk to grow on her features, as she heard the future paleontologist enlightening her with facts about dinosaurs.
The sight of Petra’s smile stretching to a corner of her face to the other became Tár’s greatest prize; no Emmy, Grammy, Oscar or Tony could ever top it. Her sudden departure resulted in continuous internal bleeding from both sides, for long, endless months. Silently, she hoped that that special day could make up for all the lost time, but remained well-aware that it was a matter of time until they’d bleed again.
By the time they arrived at the park, the side-looks from people nearby were inevitable once again. What Lydia Tár could possibly be doing back here in Berlin? So much different from Americans, as their inherent ignorance often results in oblivion. She swallowed the lump in her throat and made sure to tighten her grip around Petra’s.
As she watched the brown curls bouncing up and down as the 6 year old walked while holding her blue cotton candy, with no care in the world, Lydia mindlessly undid the unconscious smirk on her lips, as she locked herself in that wicked mind of hers for an instant. While her hands never left her pockets, Tár cleared her throat, trying to get Petra’s attention, successfully.
“Uh, Petra? About that woman who was with us earlier…”
“Liesl?” The dark eyebrows joined in confusion as she looked up.
“Yes, her.” Tár hesitated, while shrugging mildly. “Have you known her long?”
“I don’t know,” The child gave her a vague answer. It was a shot in the dark, as Lydia forgot Petra was still beginning to comprehend time and its notions.
“Is she nice to you?”
“Yeah, she plays with me a lot.” The little girl takes a big chunk of her cotton candy and shoves into her mouth. “She’s always the court jester when we’re playing castle…” Seems like her. Lydia thought. “She used to make me unicorn pancakes, but unicorns are too silly now. Oh, and she promised to teach me how to play the violin, too.”
“Did she now?” Among her dismay, Tár was forcing a rather condescending voice, after she reminded she never got to be her daughter’s private piano teacher. “You seem very fond of her.”
“She’s nice,” Petra shrugged, focused on the promised cotton candy, feeling the sugar properties reaching her nervous system. “And she’s nice to mom too. They’re always together.”
“I see…” Lydia said in a low voice, as she looked up and felt the tinge in the back of her throat again, her lips connected in a regretful pout.
By the time they arrived home it was early in the evening, Sharon found herself enjoying some quiet time, with her untamable curls loose and befriending a glass of red wine as she focused on dinner. At the sound of the front door opening then closing, and Petra’s footsteps crossing the foyer to the kitchen, Goodnow knew her peaceful moment had come to an end.
“Mama!” Sharon expected Petra with open arms, as she ran towards them and engaged in a warm hug.
“Mein Schatz!” (My darling!) The konzertmeister’s lips met the brown curls in quick pecks that went from the crown of her head to her cheeks. “Was it fun?” She opened a big smile to her little one, who reciprocated in the same intensity.
“So much fun!” For a second, the blue eyes roamed behind Petra, as Tár arrived and leaned against the wall with arms crossed, but it didn’t take long until she spotted the gap-toothed smile. “Lydia took me to the zoo then to the dino’s museum then to the park…” Petra babbled without pausing to breathe. Sharon’s eyebrows gradatively raised at the girl’s excitement. “I ate a GIANT cotton candy!” Petra accentuated as she gesticulated. “It was BLUE!”
“Oh, that explains a lot,” the blonde pointed out her daughter’s hyperactivity.
“You should’ve been there, Mama! We saw elephants and giraffes and monkeys!”
Sharon started caressing the soft curls. “I wish I could, sweetheart.” She glanced at Lydia once again before looking back at her little one. “Now, go clean yourself up, will you? Dinner will be ready soon.”
“Can Lydia stay?” The 6 year-old asked with those big puppy eyes, Sharon was caught off guard.
“I-I don’t know, honey.” Sharon hesitated, and proceeded to talk about the maestro as if she wasn’t meters away. “Lydia must be tired from the trip, and probably just wants to rest at the hotel.”
“Uh— She would love it, actually.” A smirk soon suddenly appeared on Tár’s lips after referring to herself in the third person. As Goodnow stared at her, Lydia could sense flames burning into those deep blues. “You know I can’t resist your potato salad,” she concluded in a low tone and a provoking expression.
Petra turned to face Sharon once again, she’d never seen a bigger smile in her life. Sharon, on the other hand, was doomed to bear Lydia’s suffocating presence and ego for the rest of the night.
“Great.” Sharon said monotonously with a forced smile that faded swiftly to a blunt expression as she stood up to continue dinner. “Petra. Bath. Now.” She said firmly.
The little girl turned to her dad with those infamous doe-eyes. “Help me, Lydia?”
“Sure, darling.” With that, Petra went ahead towards one of the three bathrooms in that giant penthouse. Whereas Lydia took her time, glancing at the violinist stirring the bubbly pot, noticing she did her best to ignore her presence. The maestro let out a deep sigh, “Such a nostalgic night.” Soon enough, Tár left the room, going after the 6 year-old.
Sharon snorted at the provocation. She knew exactly what she meant by it.
The pandemic was a dark time, where the three of them were locked inside that very brutalist house and the two were doing their best to make it a home for their 4 year-old; Sharon robotically doing homely tasks everyday as a way to avoid losing her sanity; While Lydia, after being denied the podium for two miserable years, was desperately trying to function. Back then, the one in charge to bathe Petra, depended on who her favorite parent was momentarily.
Things haven’t changed at all.
By the time Sharon calls out for dinner, Petra’s clean and ready for bedtime. The three of them sit on the gigantic dining table and it suddenly feels like 2020 all over again. While Petra babbles incessantly about her day, the konzertmeister constantly nods in a way to encourage her to ramble a little more. In the meantime, Lydia’s vulture eyes permeate Goodnow’s entire self across the table.
Despite having made a pact to keep Petra out of their marital problems and act normally in her presence, they both avoided addressing each other during dinner, afraid that their words would become barbs that could escalate into an argument.
Spotting those blues shamelessly staring at her and a smirk forming under them called for another glass of red wine. The violinist had lost track of how many she’d had that night, in spite of the subtle dizziness, it still wasn’t enough to give into Tár’s infamous charms.
Once dinner is over, Sharon fought her own tiredness and decided to do the remaining dishes to clear her mind of Lydia’s disturbing and interfering presence. From the living room, she could hear Petra’s investments to dodge her approaching bedtime, as she dragged Lydia along to show off her collection of dinosaurs, some of them similar to the ones they saw earlier that day.
Lydia felt exhaustion eating her alive, but she couldn’t deny that getting into Goodnow’s nerves was more than amusing. Petra could hold her hostage as much as she wanted to.
The brown eyes rolled at the sight of Sharon putting on her bossy mom shoes and sending her to bed, since it was way past her bedtime. Petra found another opportunity to use her irresistible stare and ask Lydia to tuck her in.
An undeniable request.
Sharon couldn’t fight it either, not if that would make Lydia go away faster.
Bedtime remained the same as she remembered. Petra babbled a little more about their day, sometimes repeating herself for at least the third time, but Lydia motivated her to go on and on until she was too tired to speak. Fighting her heavy eyelids, Petra remained silent as she hugged Bun Bun, the white stuffed bunny Lydia got her at her arrival in the family back in 2018, Petra held onto it ever since. In the meantime, the soft humming of her favorite lullaby managed to make her doze off in nothing more than five minutes, the little girl didn’t even feel the grip loosening up around her foot before the blonde sneaked out the bedroom.
The silence around the house was filled by the shower running meters away, a malicious smirk grew across the maestro’s features as she headed to the kitchen and poured red wine in two glasses, well-aware Goodnow would need it.
As she was leaving, the sound of a notification reached her sensitive ears three times. Soon, she spotted Sharon’s phone innocently over the counter.
Before the screen could fade to black she was able to read the notifications. Liesl. Obviously.
“Hat sie dir schon Frieden gegeben?” (Has she given you peace yet?)
“*Laughing emoji*”
“Gute Nacht, schön *Bunch of pink hearts*” (Goodnight, lovely)
Before she left the room, the wicked smirk was back, somewhat filled with hurt this time.
Feeling that notorious German weather as soon as she stepped out into the cozy balcony, Lydia left one of the glasses onto the coffee table next to the burning small fire pit.
Soon, Tár slipped out a cigarette pack and a vintage lighter out of her pocket. The smoke danced with the merciless wind as soon as she exhaled, enjoying the view she used to wake up to. It didn’t take much for the memories of the first night they’d spent at that house to hit her, their bodies filled with thrill and excitement; Their first purchase as an actual couple.
Wine, teasing and a lot of sex pretty much summed up that very night. That brutalist penthouse held more stories and secrets than they’ll ever know.
Entering a deep and hazy spiral of thoughts, Tár barely noticed the shower had stopped running a long time ago. From afar, Sharon was dressed in a bathrobe, curly hair wet like a poodle who’d just left the pet shop. Spotting Lydia leaning against the parapet, the konzertmeister approached her with crossed arms, watching her as she silently blew out smoke.
Goodnow didn’t hesitate to face the shivering night, their daughter was sound asleep, she no longer had to pretend good manners. “Smoking again? What happened?” Catching Lydia off guard, causing her to flinch and turn to face her.
“Fuck, Sharon!” She led the free hand to her heart, as the other held the cigarette. “Must I really elaborate?” After settling down, she took another drag, turning to peek at the view once again. “I don’t remember being this cold at this time of year…” She made small talk. God, how she loathed it.
“Well, it is late…” Tár couldn’t help but giggle silently at her eagerness for her to leave, as she led the tip of the cigarette to her lips again. The maestro proceeded to comfort herself on the lounge chair, across from her (still) wife, soon taking a sip from the tasteful wine. “What are you doing, Tár?”
“I brought it for you,” Pointing to the untouched glass on the coffee table next to her. “Now, be polite, sit down and drink with me.”
Being as stubborn as a mule, Goodnow didn’t move a muscle, causing Tár to snort and look away, watching the poisonous stick burning in between her fingers. Before she got closer, Sharon observed Lydia’s lost figure still in search of herself again, if she’d ever found it.
Feeling the konzertmeister’s presence, with her plain 6 foot, Sharon looked down at her like a God. Arms crossed and a frown — a rather disappointed God.
She felt small, a nobody. Though she’d rather die than admit it.
“Don’t go on thinking you can boss me around my own house. You’ve never could, and that’s not going to change.”
“ Our house.” Lydia corrected with a smirk Sharon longed to slap out her face. “Legally it’s still half mine, I never signed—”
“Fuck that.” A fuming Sharon interrupted her, finally sitting on the lounge chair across her to look her straight in the eye. “She’s not here, I don’t have to deal with you anymore.”
“And yet, here you are…” Tár caught her off guard, with a cynical smile fluttering the broad lips. Silence stayed a little longer before she continued, the blues never leaving Sharon’s, “You know, I’m still waiting for those divorce papers to reach my doorstep. Where are they, Sharon?”
Before staring impatiently at her daughter’s father, Goodnow dodged her eyes elsewhere. The maestro reached for her wine glass once again, taking a generous sip to bear that conversation.
“By the way… Your girlfriend left you a message,” She added, while ashing her cigarette in the burning fire pit. The German stared at the maestro inches away with a humorless smile. “Liesl, is it?” Lydia fakely asked, with joined eyebrows. “You know… She’s sweet.” A pause. “So sweet it’s almost irritating.”
Smoking the last drag of the cigarette before throwing it away, “Does she happen to remind you of someone?” The maestro proceeded to ask.
A false grin grew on those plump German lips. She knew where she was getting. “Your sweetness is unmatched, Tár…”
That caused the shorter to snort at the cold joke. As silence stepped in once again, Lydia’s orbs rested on the tempting lips in front of her, before dropping to Goodnow’s bare collarbones. Her lips missed both.
“You went from a maestro to a violin teacher, attagirl…” Tár said mockingly, up in her podium of pride and ignorance. “One can’t help but say you might follow a pattern. Don’t you find?”
“You tell me, what about all those 20-something girls you fucked?” Sharon said straight and simple with an expressionless face, once again catching her unaware. “You’re in no position to demand anything from me, Tár. I don’t owe you shit.”
“You’re still my wife, Sharon.” Tár said lowly, in an almost threatening tone, while mindlessly fidgeting with her knuckles, somehow redirecting her frustration elsewhere.
Snorting, “I was still your wife when you fucked Anna, and Talia, remember them?” Goodnow’s gaze tried searching for Lydia’s wandering ones for a moment. “Then Francesca, Krista, Olga… Chasing them behind my back while doubting my discernment.” Lydia’s eyes now met hers, eyebrows joined once more, and easened up as she put the pieces of the puzzle together. “You were just looking for a young, desperate hole to fuck and play out that kinky shit, didn’t you? God knows how many there were.” Sharon paused for a moment. “So when did marriage become so important?” Silence lingered a little longer. “Or is it only when I do it?”
Awaiting the response from the maestro that never came, the konzertmeister rose from her seat and approached the parapet, soaking in that breathtaking view of Berlin for a second, her half-dried curls fluttering with the ruthless wind.
“You’re a small, small man, Tár. Just like any other.” Amidst the silence, Goodnow added, throwing another knife at Lydia’s bleeding heart.
“Why didn’t you end it with Anna?” Again, asking lowly but dangerously, she still fidgeted with her red knuckles.
“You think I’m that weak?” She snorted, while leading her gaze back to the view. “I thought about it, once Francesca joined in. But I kept my faith in you…” A frown hovered Lydia’s features, as she felt her throat going dry. “Silly me to think there would be a day you’d come to your senses and put an end to everything.”
At Tár’s shameful silence, Sharon looked at the maestro over her shoulder, finding a more lost Lydia than before, seemingly deep in her own wave of thoughts, drowning in them with no fight.
A little hesitant, the konzertmeister walked the few meters which separated her from the blonde, reaching out for the pack of cigarettes and lighter.
Soon enough, the American watched Sharon with her back turned to the parapet and leaning against it, as she blew out the smoke that danced with the cruel weather. In particular, her long, stretching neck that exposed the velvety skin she missed distributing trail kisses all over.
“Some dare to ask me about you, and my answer’s always the same: ‘Ich weiß genauso viel über sie wie du. Nichts” (I know as much about her as you do. Nothing). The ocean blue eyes wandered towards the burning cigarette in between those long, skilled fingers and remained there for seconds. Silence lingered. “You know, Liesl was — is a huge fan…”
Tár let out a mocking snort in response, while maintaining her gaze back to the floor, shaking her head in denial.
“I found your book and some vinyls in one of her shelves when she wasn’t looking,” Sharon leaded the cigarette to her lips. “I wonder if she came to me just to get to you. Or what had— Become of you.” She completed it plainly.
That was enough for the lost eyes to look up at her still wife, finding a somewhat shattered Sharon hugging herself, fighting that damn cold. Somehow, they found comfort in the silence that followed.
“When did it begin?” The question was uttered amidst the deafening silence, the konzertmeister glanced at her bluntly.
“Why?” Said smoothly. Looking up, Lydia saw Sharon with squinting eyes. “How could that be any of your business?” The smoke danced as she gesticulated with her cigarette. “Do you want to know if I started seeing her behind your back?” Sharon asked almost in a mocking tone, causing Lydia to swallow dry. “Is that it?” A wicked smirk hovered the plump lips as the cigarette approached them. “I’m not you, Tár.” She glanced back at the view.
That brought out an even more fidgety Lydia, playing with her reddish knuckles and moving her shoulders a little too much, thanks to her nervous tic. “I just don’t know what you see in her. That robot.” Her tone remained low, filled with jealousy, while not even bothering to look at the woman before her. “You deserve so much better.”
“Who? You?” Throwing a disdained look at her husband, she whispered: “Sie ist besser.” (She is better.) Earning that infamous Lydia Tár mad stare.
“Is she?” Begging for Goodnow to tell the truth, Tár pushed her to the edge. Silence lingered as she rose from her seat and walked slowly towards her wife, one step at a time. “Do you love her, Sharon?” Asked plainly and coldly, getting nothing in return but more quietude. One step at a time.
“That pretty much sums it all up.” Goodnow felt shivers up and down her spine at Lydia’s low mockery. “You’re just using her, aren’t you?” She paused. One step at a time. “Using her because she’s nothing but a cheap ass copy of me.” Tár whispered inches away from Sharon’s bare neck, spotting the goosebumps all across it.
Sharon’s mind was too foggy to process the truth behind it.
Careful not to touch any part of her, the maestro approached the konzertmeister, slowly and dangerously building it up. “Tell me, when she touches you… Is it sweet, caring? Has she ever made you come with that softie shit?”
Taking the last drag, Goodnow closed her eyes as she exhaled, cautious enough to not fall on her charms.
Two sneaky and skilled hands met the tiny waist from behind, holding them lightly, barely touching. Sharon could feel her face approaching more and more of hers. The blue wide shut eyes daring to open. “She doesn’t seem like the loud type either… I bet you have to man up and use the strap on her, right? Like all those times you were so fucking pissed you took it out on me.”
“Has my name ever slipped out your mouth while fucking her senseless? While making her pay for what I did to you?”
At the hot breath against her sensitive skin, Sharon let out a sigh she barely knew she was holding. With such response, Tár’s grip around her waist tightened. “She’s so useless, I bet you have to finish up all by yourself, don’t you?” The plump German lips were half-open at the feeling of Lydia’s nose brushing against her half-exposed neck.
“Has she found all your secret spots already?” One of her hands rapidly descended in between her legs. “Ahh, there it is…” Lydia said lowly and raspy, while enjoying the texture of the trimmed blonde curls and the feeling of her moisturized clit. Touching it lightly, making Sharon mentally beg for more. “You’re soaking wet... My poor girl…”
Underneath the expert pianist fingers was a pinkish nub beginning to throb while pleading for attention. After the light caressing, Sharon quietly cursed the conductor’s name at the torturous neglect. Soon enough, she no longer touched where she needed the most.
“You need proper care…” She whispered in her ear, removing the curls falling past her shoulders out of the way, “Tell me to stop and I’ll turn around and go.”
As she got closer slowly, Tár resembled a predator seconds before snapping up its prey. At the lack of any protest, the blonde was able to take in her wife’s inebriating scent, as the broad lips explored the land that used to be only hers. A kiss on the neck was followed by another, and another, and another, until the violinist started melting every time the broad lips met her skin.
Suddenly, the need for her and Tár to merge was stronger than any rational thought. As the trail of kisses became much more intense and Lydia’s fingers reached for the bathrobe belt around her waist, Sharon lifted her head and tipped it back, giving the American more room to work with; the sigh that went past her lips was inevitable. At the feeling of Sharon’s encouraging mild touch on her cheek, Lydia almost thought she was seeing things again. How long has it been since she experienced Goodnow’s tenderness?
The German, engulfed by desire and longing, turned her back to finally face the guilty one for all her sleepless nights and daytime nightmares. As soon as the blues were face to face again, Sharon met Lydia’s apologetic look while watching the violinist’s gaze alternating between her eyes and lips.
Locked glances, noses grasping over each other slyly and unhurriedly, and, beneath them, lips that begged for one another. The homecoming kiss started deliciously as if they had all the time in the world, allowing Tár to remember why she had fallen in love with Sharon in the first place. Their lips kissed as if they’d never been separated; Their mouths tasting like the same cigarette they shared after sneaking out of the Philharmonic’s fancy gathering back in 2009, when Lydia was nothing but a guest conductor.
As the kiss intensified, the despair suddenly became more evident, causing both musicians to feel parts of their body tingling like never before. The hands that once rested on the taller one’s waist, explored the known land, aware of every particular spot that could take her wife to the verge of madness at that very balcony. Moving up, her right hand landed on the blonde’s cleavage, which remained beyond inviting, especially that particular night. Sharon felt one of her nipples, somehow, become even more hardened at Tár’s frigid fingertips slightly brushing over them, drawing a breathy moan from the konzertmeister, while never unlocking their lips.
Expanding her trail of kisses, Lydia descended to her cleavage once again. In the meantime, the pianist’s skilled fingers mindlessly, but recklessly, played with the fragile bathrobe knot, which could be undone at any given time. With both hands resting on the maestro’s strong shoulders, Sharon started pressing them down, lightly but steady.
“Auf deinen Knien.” (On your knees.) She whispered authoritatively. Still unsure of where it was going, Lydia obeyed, once their relations with power were often shifting.
Maintaining eye contact as she kneels before her wife, Goodnow had Tár worshiping her like a God with those pleading eyes, begging to enter the kingdom of heaven. No one else could see her so vulnerable. No one but Sharon.
With a blunt expression hovering her strong features, the konzertmeister reached for Tár’s neck with her right hand, slowly moving up to the defined jawline she so adored, tacting her skin as if she’d never felt it. Soon, Goodnow’s thumb grazed over the warm, broad lips; feeling the deliciousness of their texture. “Öffne es.” (Open it.) She said simply and coldly, watching Lydia open her mouth in the slightest; followed by the tip of her tongue gently caressing her thumb.
As she went further, it didn’t take long for the violinist’s breathing to become uneven. Not once glancing away, the Goddess watched as her disciple erotically and slowly sucked and licked her thumb. A sinful sight.
Enthralled by the moment, Sharon watched as the blonde held her wrist, forcing the thumb out of her mouth. Tár, with the same thirst and despair for power, proceeded to undo the knot before her, to finally take a peek at the beautiful body of the only woman she’s ever missed.
As both sides of the bathrobe now hanged loose, the disciple’s eyes had suddenly displayed a darker kind of blue as the lust permeated her entire body. Every part of her begging to be touched, from her heavy breasts to the cunt she didn’t have to touch again to know it was dripping wet. Each one of her scars, moles, stretch marks were just where she mapped them. Looking up, Sharon’s features were filled with desire.
“You get more and more beautiful every time,” Said with an even raspier voice, seemingly almost dumbstruck.
Craving her woman, Tár latched onto Sharon’s figure as if she’d be the last person she’ll see. Driven by madness, her lips kissed every part of skin she could find, landing on one of the hardened nipples which she licked and sucked on hungrily, as her hand dealt with the other one. The skillful fingers found themselves trapped in the blonde strands, as Sharon closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip, preventing any moans to go past it, sometimes failing terribly.
Once the blonde felt her nipple trapped between Lydia’s teeth, a louder cry reached her sensitive ears. Goodnow’s moans had a particular kind of melody she’d always longed to depict in one of her compositions. Shivering as the trail of kisses across her torso continued, she felt the maestro’s digits descending from her waist directly to the sides of her long thighs, landing on their final destination: Sharon’s soft, beautiful ass.
Feeling her vision blurred at the sight of Lydia locking eyes with her before her lips met the blonde trimmed curls, the violinist’s fingertips gently caressed Tár’s scalp, but it was only a matter of time until she started roughly pulling the strands while cursing her name.
“Fuck me. Fuck me like she never did.” With words filled with despair and arousal, she saw the blue eyes darken even more, in some way.
“So eager…” She spotted the naughty smile on the broad lips, as Tár approached her core while looking up, watching her silently gasp at the feeling of Lydia’s warm breath against her aching clit.
By the time the skilled tongue met the swollen nub, a sigh of relief went past the German’s lips, as she tipped her head back and rested both arms on the parapet, allowing Lydia to do her magic. The disciple could go to heaven and hell for her Goddess, but, for now, she simply focused on providing her the pleasure she’d been denied all this time they’ve spent apart.
A quiet hum went unnoticed by the violinist in the process. Sharon’s taste was like no other. Lydia would always come back for it.
Amongst dragged and sexy sighs, she looked down at her husband slowly building up her release, with closed eyelids and clearly drunk on her paradisiac juices. The gentle licks on her clit were gradually fastening the pace, until the maestro began sucking on it like her favorite candy.
The konzertmeister’s skilled fingers once again met the undone blonde strands, tugging on them as her burning pleasure put her insides aflame. Meanwhile, the muffled moans graced the musician’s ears. Tár’s hidden smile was followed by two fingers spreading her open, glancing at the shiny little pearl glistening with arousal. At the rapid pace, Sharon smirked and let out a giggle, as she felt tingles across her entire body. Soon, Lydia’s tongue worked from the clit down to her entrance, aware Goodnow was desperate to finally be filled.
“Still remember our little game?” The blonde said breathlessly while looking up with provoking eyes, briefly nuzzling the trimmed curls. “Don’t come until I tell you to.”
“Assloch.” (Asshole.) She took a peek at Tár’s deviant smirk before feeling the heavenly tongue work wonders on her again.
As the maestro picked up the pace, Sharon soon felt a finger torturously teasing her entrance, until Lydia inserted it achingly slow. Looking up, the American watched her wife with closed eyes and a frustrated expression hovering her features, as a low cry escaped the parted lips. It was all fun and games for the maestro. Torture was a big part of it.
“Lydia…” She whispered in a disappointing way.
“Be patient… Haven’t you learned anything?”
Biting her lower lip, while working a single finger inside, Lydia went back to kissing and sucking on the swollen pearl desperate for attention. Goodnow’s hips mindlessly buckled up, slightly rolling against the conductor’s palm, desperately searching for friction. At the sensation of the clit pulsating on her skilled tongue, Lydia decided it was time to pick up the pace.
The maestro felt her boxers dampen at the delicious sight of a disheveled Sharon above her, blaspheming her name as if she was the devil herself; and perhaps she was. Adding another finger to the dripping cunt, Tár stepped back and watched her divine wife riding her fingers, reaching the verge of madness. Some moans escaping the broad lips in the meantime; How could she not at such a delightful view?
Still thrusting both fingers inside, her thumb now came into frame, as she pressed against the overly sensitive clit. Rising up, both lips met again in a heated kiss, as Lydia successfully swallowed the desperate moans and whimpers. “That’s right, that’s my girl,” Whispering raspily against the parted lips, she glanced proudly at the mess Sharon had become.
Aware Goodnow had reached her limit, Tár pushed her further by postponing her climax, creating a trail of slow kisses from her neck to both hardened nipples, making sure to leave a mark where she could, so Liesl reminded who she belonged to.
Curling both fingers inside, Lydia felt her walls clenching around them, aware Goodnow was just waiting for her to utter the words. Now, with their lips teasingly grazing over each other, “Open your eyes…” The pair of blue eyes had met again. The thick eyebrows held a frown, below them parted lips panting for a release. “Come for me, baby…”
Tár held her fingers in place, curling them continuously as Sharon rode out her extreme climax, coming undone at that balcony just like the very first time. A smirk landed on the conductor’s lips at the violinist’s loud cries alongside her aftershocks, which lingered for as long as she needed. Kisses were distributed across the taller one’s torso, to help her come down to earth.
Goodnow now rested her sweaty forehead on Lydia’s shoulder, trying her best to even out her breathing. Both remained there for as long as they wished, simply remembering the mere sensation of their embrace, which had become ephemeral.
Silence now lingered between the two. Their separation was followed by Lydia leading her fingers coated by Sharon’s juices; in awe, she watched the violinist’s delight at her own holy taste. After licking them clean, the German pulled Tár for another hungry kiss, relishing herself.
The weather had somehow become even more ruthless, but they wouldn’t have known, as the aflame lust inside their bodies protected them from the cold. Now free from any piece of clothing, amidst the moans from both parties that fused sonically, Lydia witnessed pure divine grace while watching Sharon with a sweaty forehead, closed eyes and hanging lips bounce up and down her dick. Tár’s strong palms rested on her asscheeks steadily, as the delicious feeling of the strap’s base rubbing just right against her aching center, building up her awaited release.
“Lydia…” Goodnow cried out at the violent slap on her ass, rubbing her sweaty figure against the maestro’s, resting her forehead on the American’s shoulder, not once ceasing her motion. The feeling of their hardened nipples touching could only intensify their carnality.
“That’s right, baby. Take it like the good girl you are…” Breathless, she whispered close to her ear, Lydia knew how to drive her to the edge of madness.
As Sharon’s lengthy torso stood up to stare at those menacing blue eyes again, she knew Lydia had also reached her limit. Panting insanely under her, it only took a few slow and accurate rolling of the hips for both to start collapsing at the same time, reaching their final destination together. Laying her shivering body on top of Lydia’s, Sharon could feel the smell of sex fluttering in the air, as both tried to catch their breath.
“Scheiße.” (Fuck.) She swore under her breath, as the corner of her lips turned into a satisfied grin, finding shelter in Lydia’s strong arms. The maestro embraced her closely, caressing her glistening skin.
While the violinist placed a single kiss on her cleavage, Tár’s lips met the crown of her head in a tender kiss. No words needed, both remained in quietude as they glanced at the starred sky.
“Did you come?”
“Why are you asking? You know I did.”
“Oh, I know,” The doe-eyes looked up at Lydia, after having her head resting on her chest. “I was just trying to boost my ego.” Lydia closed her eyes and giggled silently at the remark.
So there they stayed for as long as they wished, caught up in each other’s arms as if time wasn’t a thing. Goodnow tried to make the most of that moment of ecstasy, by nuzzling the curve of her neck and allowing herself to take in Tár’s delightful emanating scent that made her head spin. For now, the world was a bed of roses; And Lydia wasn’t Lydia, but someone else.
Maybe a romanticized version of her created by her brain to make Sharon bear the pain of separation.
“It’s freezing out here!” The maestro pointed out, tossing Sharon’s private thoughts away.
“It wasn’t the smartest idea to have sex on the balcony in the middle of winter.”
“Just for old times sake.” Lydia said it with a smirk hovering her lips, her brain now filled with obscene memories. “Remember that night you came while Ravel blasted in the background?” Sharon giggled loudly at the unpredicted reminiscence. “God, you were so fucking horny! I’m still wondering who got you there, if it was either him or me.”
“It was String Quartet in F Major !” Sharon made it sound as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Lydia rolled her eyes in amusement while shaking her head. “Violinists…”
“What?! It’s sexy!” Tár took a good glance at Sharon’s remarkable teeth as she smiled. “You’re Bach’s groupie, you wouldn’t get it.”
“Do you really wanna go there?” Lydia teased. Silence stepped in for five seconds or so, until she tossed it away again, “ Violin Sonata No. 2 . The piano and the violin are opposites. Ravel proved his point.” The smartass pointed out while tittering, well-aware Goodnow knew as much about it as she did.
At Sharon’s quietude, Tár just realized it was time to stop.
“Yeah. He did.” It went past Sharon’s lips in a sad manner.
Staring into the void, the German realized she’d been silent for quite some time, and her husband was too uncomfortable to intervene. Therefore, they just enjoyed each other’s embrace for a little longer. Shifting on top of Lydia’s figure, the violinist took a peek at the mild hickey on her neck on full display, the same one she’d noticed earlier.
Raising her upper body to lay on her side, Sharon’s index finger touched Tár’s fair skin, just where the mark was. Her strong eyebrows joined in slight confusion; She didn’t have to look at Lydia to know she was ashamed.
“Who did this?”
Lydia hesitated, looking away.
“A girl at the hotel. She was a fan.” In a low tone, the maestro told the truth, shaking her head as if the girl meant nothing.
Though the doe-eyes had hurt permeating them, Sharon still was able to brush it off and rest her head on Lydia’s chest again, listening to her easy and soundly heartbeat, choosing once again to close her eyes to the truth rather than facing it.
Allowing quietude to reign between them for a few seconds, “When are you leaving?” Sharon dared to ask.
“The flight’s in eight hours.”
Beginning to internally bleed, Goodnow closed her eyes and let out a deep, hurtful sigh, lifting her head up from her chest. Her ecstatic moment had come to an end. The real world was still the same. And Lydia was still Lydia.
“You should probably go.”
Bare naked, Tár sat on the lounge chair, curling the broad lips into the infamous pouty-grin. “You’re right.” For as long as Tár wanted to stay, she was well-aware it would only cause damage.
They got up and got dressed amidst heavy silence. Again, no words needed, otherwise they’d probably end up in another passive-aggressive argument similar to the many others they’ve experienced as a couple. Therefore, both musicians allowed themselves to take in each other’s loud and heart wrenching presence until they reached that very doorstep.
“Can I just… Say goodbye to Petra?” Lydia asked shyly as they walked those haunted, long hallways. Sharon nodded, with a condescending smile.
The sight of Petra’s disheveled curls, softly closed eyelids and a sweet pout under them made Tár’s heart melt, desolated she was leaving for a second time. Sitting on the edge of the infant’s bed, Lydia kissed her own fingertips and placed them onto Petra’s forehead lovingly.
Soon, the brown orbs met the blue ones. Lydia showed her a gentle grin, watching her daughter curling up with Bun Bun.
“Are you leaving?” Petra whispered and Lydia nodded, hurtfully. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know, honey. Soon, hopefully…”
“But I don’t want you to go,” The little girl pleaded with glistening eyes.
“I know my darling, I don’t want to either.” The blonde tried showing her some compassion, aware it wouldn’t be enough. “Maybe we can convince Mama to let you spend some time in New York during summer break. How does that sound?” She suggested with a sympathetic smile, trying her best not to cry. “We’ll still talk everyday, honey, don’t you worry.” The maestro reached for the tiny hands, placing a kiss on both of them. “I need you to stay here and take care of Mama for me, okay?” Fighting her tears, her sad grin was followed by a kiss placed on the little girl’s temple.
Taken by surprise at the six year-old throwing herself on her arms, she embraced her tightly, closing her eyelids and kissing her hair. “I love you, darling.” With a choking voice, she whispered against the brown curls.
Leaning against the sofa with crossed arms, as if she hadn’t been eavesdropping just seconds ago, Sharon spotted Lydia leaving Petra’s bedroom with a devastated expression. The German didn’t have to ask further questions to know what crossed Tár’s jumbled mind. As she passed by her, Sharon went after her husband as both headed towards the front door, holding back tears.
Behind her, Sharon watched a frozen Lydia standing before the open door, struggling to get past it. Turning to face her, Goodnow finally glanced at the desolated eyes; Tár did her best to conceal her weaknesses, Sharon was the only person in the world enabled to access that side of her. “Goodbye, Sharon.” The maestro said with a lump in her throat.
“Goodbye, Lydia.” The two simple words were filled with anguish.
Another embrace wasn’t necessary for their farewell, a simple but meaningful lasting glance between the two felt rather enough. Goodnow and Tár stood out as two extremes of a spectrum. Piano and Violin, two contrasting instruments that couldn’t get along. A dangerous relationship based on power, that remained constantly shifting for better or worse. For the 14 years they’ve known each other, they knew better than trapping themselves under the same roof and compromising Petra, their relationship and mutual respect.
By the time Lydia turned her back to leave and the door was closed, Sharon gave into her own pricking tears. Crying silently, while hiding the blue teary eyes with her palm, as the other rested on the wooden door’s surface for support.
That lustful night was the farewell they didn’t have four months ago, but somehow, Lydia managed to leave her emptier than before.
“Mama?”
She saw Petra’s tiny figure standing at the other end of the entrance hall, dressed in her pajamas and rubbing her sleepy eyes as she held the stuffed bunny. Sharon rapidly wiped away her tears, automatically seemingly strong enough to face her six year-old.
“Dad left?”
Sharon nodded silently, with teary eyes that couldn’t be hidden. Petra pursed her lips, looking down at her feet. “Can’t go back to sleep?”
“No.” The little girl said under her breath, hugging Bun Bun. Sharon crossed the distance between them, crouching to look Petra right in the eyes.
“Tell you what, since it’s only us and I need some company, why don’t you sleep with me tonight? Mmm? What do you say?” Proposed the konzertmeister with a false excitement, showing the sleepy girl a reassuring smile with teary eyes right above them.
“Will you hold my foot?” Petra asked simply, with a pout.
“Of course, meine liebe.”