Switchverse: Part XI, or, But I, Jack, The Pumpkin King
The hotel rooms are nondescript and too-meticulously aired out, neutral beiges and browns and creams, twin beds and sate-levision. Each family has one, all on the same floor, because Eliza planned out the reservations with Jamia, Lyn-Z, and Alicia beforehand.
Saturday morning, the adults go out to breakfast en masse and give the kids free reign in the hotel and anywhere they can get to on foot, with semi-strict instructions not to be late for the mock-rehearsal movie marathon that afternoon.
In one of the Way rooms, 2way surfs around on his vidscreen for a while, trying not to listen to the three-quarters-of-a-conversation taking place on the balcony. The Hive has been especially weird lately, which might have to do with Audrey walking around with faintly red-rimmed eyes.
But there’s only so many looks of wordless agreement that 2way can take. He gets out of there.
--
2way knocks on the door and puts his hand down and fidgets. He spends about thirteen seconds, who’s counting, convincing himself that this is bad bad very bad idea, and Eliza is older and talented and just because 2way has no one to hang out with doesn’t mean he’s allowed to hang out with her.
But then Eliza opens the door, tank top and pony tail, wide and honest Toro smile. She says, “Hey, 2way. What’s up?”
He rubs one elbow with the opposite hand and hunches his shoulders forward, closes off. “Um. I don’t - I’m not doing anything, are you doing anything?”
She blinks and flings her wild hair over her shoulder to say, “Hey, Jack, pick up and move out.”
When Eliza opens the door a little more, 2way sees that the room is in complete disarray, towels and clothes strewn everywhere. The Twins are plugged into the console they brought with them and Jack is sitting on one of the twin beds further in. She’s standing up, black sweatpants loose and low with the string of her red bikini bottoms showing, no shoes, short blonde hair, glare at having to move.
2way really hopes that Jack will never find a reason to want him dead.
“Wait, grab my violin case,” Eliza adds after a second. “And, Twins, listen.”
Mary Jane and Christian don’t glance away from the screen, and something explodes.
Jack carefully steps through them without kicking either in the head, and strides silently to the door.
Eliza raps on the door and shouts, “Mary Jane, Christian, listen to me.”
Their necks swivel up, and they share a guilty look. (But then, they always look a little guilty.) “Yeah?” they ask, just a fraction of a beat away from unison.
“I’m going outside by the pool. You’re going to stay here and not break anything, it’s not that difficult. Uncle Frankie’s going to come get you little monsters in half an hour, and he’ll get you dressed and all.”
Their faces light up. “Uncle Frankie!” Mary Jane squeals. He’s the apple of her seven-year-old eye.
Eliza nods and shuts the door behind her and sighs, shaking her head. “Those kids,” she says, and sounds thirty.
“Frank’s in charge of them?” Jack says.
Eliza winks. “Your dad’s coming, too. And he scares the piss out of them.”
Involuntarily, 2way says, “But, it’s Bob.”
Jack stares down at him, apparently remembering his existence.
2way quails. “I just - I mean, he’s really awesome, and he.” He flinches behind his glasses when Jack’s hand comes up. “And he shows me how to play stuff and he’s really nice!” 2way knows that he’s cringing. That doesn’t mean he’s going to stop.
Then, Eliza starts giggling, high and breathy, and Jack’s hand ruffles the 2way’s bangs.
“C’mon, lets get some sun,” Eliza says, hefting her instrument and heading for the elevators.
2way hesitates and says, “I’ll meet you down there?”
“Why?” She blinks at him, and her eyes are the color of brown riverstones. Jack looms up over his shoulder and cuts off 2way’s thought.
“Uh,” he starts, off-guard. “I’m not going to swim, so. I’ll get something else to do.”
“We can wait,” Eliza assures him.
2way doesn’t argue, just runs back to his family’s room, ignores The Hive communing on the balcony, and grabs his backpack.
He shuffles back out into the hallway and follows the girls down to the pool.
--
Eliza’s the kind of musician that doesn’t need to find a private area to practice, because she’s already so good that random strangers don’t mind hearing her.
Still, when they get to the pool, she walks around to everyone sunning in chairs or watching their kids swim and asks if they’ll mind. While Eliza’s doing that, Jack strips out of her lounging-around clothes and dives into the water. She and her friend intended to come down before little 2way asked, so Jack’s wearing her bathing suit. No towel, though.
Kids are screaming and splashing when she surfaces, and then Jack turns and dives.
She can hold her breath for a while, good control from her martial arts, and she sinks easily, body all corded muscle. It’s like with milk; the cream rises to the top, really talented people like Eliza and Jeremy with their music or Audrey with her acting or Theo with his words, and everything else sinks. There’s pressure down under the water, making Jack’s ears ring and her heart beat harder, sluggish pounding in her fingers.
She kicks off and flows back up, breaks the surface, quiet and steady breath in.
Eliza’s already off and running with her violin - an adaptation of a Bach cello piece that she specially requested Jeremy transcribe for a violin. 2way’s near her, notebook out, pencil in hand - leave it to the gawky freshman to do homework during vacation.
Everyone’s staring at Eliza, though, even 2way. Because she’s pretty all the time, but with the music pulling her tight and running out of her like time, she’s beautiful.
--
2way makes a valiant effort not to draw Eliza.
Really, he does.
It’s an accident.
But he’s drawing and erasing and re-drawing the line of her neck when he snaps into focus, actually tunes in to hear the music she’s playing, and he waits for her to come to - a pause, something, it feels like the end of a phrase in a sentence. He says, “It sounds like it’s half of a conversation.” Usually, with his drums, 2way’s tied to the heartbeat-pounding-pulse of the song instead of the overall sound, and classical music just sounds more smooth and supercilious than what he’s used to.
Eliza takes a break, looking him over appraisingly, beaming. “It’s an accompaniment. Different from a full orchestra or a solo, right?”
2way’s eyebrows tie up together, and he pauses over his words as he says, “Yeah, but there’s… a part that’s still missing. I don’t know.”
“An accompaniment means that the instrument backs up another performance to flesh it out,” she explains, and starts digging around in her shirt for her mZ. “I have the full piece. It accompanies a tenor soloist.”
All 2way knows is that a tenor is a guy part, and probably in the higher notes, for guys. But when he gets the headphones in, the unhappy ball of wrongness that’s been building in the music dissolves into yes. The voice washes over him, sleekly slipping from high to low, note to note. 2way doesn’t usually listen to classical or opera, but this is nice, even if he doesn’t speak whatever language it’s in.
So he listens, and he listens, and he doesn’t notice Jack looming over him until she’s blocking out the sun and staring down at the half-formed picture of Eliza.
2way makes an incredibly humiliating noise and slams his notebook closed.
Eliza stops playing altogether and asks, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” he says, and his voice cracks, oh jesus. “Just. I was - Jack startled - Jack, you startled me.”
Jack drapes herself over the chair beside his, no towel, content to sun-dry even though it’s early October and a little chilly. Her green eyes are unreadable, locked on 2way’s, and he’s utterly freaking out.
Eliza starts in, this time just finger exercises that go quick and measured through the scales, completely unconscious of the way people look at her in public like this.
2way interrupts one last time, shoving his things into his bag, standing up. “I have to,” he stutters, and his face is hot. “I have to, I’m gonna go.”
She frowns, and says, “If you go up to the rooms, stick your head in and make sure Uncle Frankie’s got The Twins, okay?”
“Yeah!” he calls back, already nearly to the door.
He’s in the elevator before he remembers that he still has Eliza’s mZ.