A 'SUB' REQUEST (Cate Blanchett x OC)

Chapter 24: In flight

I stared blankly at my computer screen. My desktop had a history of being messy, and I had just cleaned up all the random files, old photos, and useless PDFs in one obsessive-compulsive go. Now only two browsers remained open side by side. I'd had them both open since early this morning. 

On the left, a flight tracker of Lufthansa flight 453, going from Los Angeles to Berlin. It took off about 5 hours ago and was almost halfway through its journey. I watched its lone icon inching across the Atlantic, a tiny metal box crossing the paths of thousands just it like without ever knowing who was in them. Cate was on that flight right now, and I didn't know if I would see her again in the next month. Maybe ever. 

On the right, a half-written resignation letter addressed to my boss. 

I was rubbing my temples when my calendar ding'ed, and a notification popped up. "Cate to meet mom!" it read cheerily. Shoot. My mom was flying into LA this afternoon, and I had to go and pick her up at LAX. I clicked on the bubbly yellow of the notification box and deleted it. 

Cate and I had decided over the pandemic that she'd meet my mom over the summer after I met her kids. We'd go out to dinner, Cate would be a bigger part of my world, with the hope that she and my mom would bond together (they were the same age, after all). But now, my mother was coming to help me pack and move back home. I had no plans to return to LA, the magical city I called home for more than 7 years. 

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My flight touched down in Hartford, CT. The sunshine, beaches, and palm trees of the west coast felt like a distant memory. It was surreal to be home. I would be staying in my childhood bedroom until I figured out what to do with my life next. As I turned my phone back on from Airplane mode, a deluge of texts flooded in. 

From my boss: "This comes as a shock to me - you've done excellent work here and I'm really sorry to lose you..." 

From Thérèse: "I heard the news - hope it wasn't all because of me?" *Wink emoji*. *Heartbreak emoji*. Blocked. 

Then, at the bottom, a strange number that wasn't in my contacts. 

"hey there. im starting piano lessons on thursday. do you have the sheet music to canon in d? i can't find it online. thx. - iggy." 

I teared up and pulled the phone closer to my face. The boyish casualness of the syntax brought his cherubic face to mind. 

I attached a PDF of the sheet music. "Here you go. Don't forget to relax your wrists! Send me a recording. Hope you're having lots of fun in London! :)" 

Barely 20 minutes passed before he responded, "my teacher made me practice arpeggios and my technique is a lot better. also, i'm living in berlin with mum rn." 

He sent a blurry 40-sec video of him sitting in front of his piano, his focused face drifting in and out of frame, his fingers on the keyboard awkwardly playing the scales. I smiled to myself at the adorableness, but couldn't help but glance at the background. Cate's house in Berlin was spacious and contemporary, with sleek Scandinavian lines and ample lighting. 

Then I saw her. 

For a split second. 

She was simply passing by far away from the piano, and had no idea that she was in the video. She was in a plain white T-shirt and jeans. But I didn't even have to zoom in on the video or replay it to notice the obvious. 

She looked sad. 

I kept hitting rewind anyway, holding on to every bit of the video like a freezing person would a dying flame. Every time the video ended, I hit replay. Then again. And again. To look for any other clues that could possibly exist in the short video of a boy's hands on a keyboard. But there was nothing, just Iggy's innocent demonstration for me and Cate's sadness in the same room, neither aware of the other. She was so beautiful - my heart couldn't stop fluttering. 

"Start slower," I texted, "and remember to keep your wrists level." 

"ok. this new piano has weighted keys, so it's a bit hard. mum bought it to prepare for a new part she's playing." 

"That's exciting," I texted back, "Iggy, maybe don't tell your mom that you're sending me these videos?" 

A pause in our exchange. 

"do you not like my playing?" he asked. 

"No no no, I absolutely love it! But your mom...she'd probably want you to take notes from your teacher." 

"but you are a pianist too aren't you?" 

"Not technically. I studied to be a composer in college. That's different from being a pianist." 

"but you're still very good." 

I chuckled out loud and wanted to give him a hug from across the pond. As Iggy continued with his piano lessons over the summer, he spent me sporadic videos of his progress. Occasionally I'd see Cate in the background - they were the only tenuous connection I had with her for now. 

Until one day. 

Iggy had mastered the first 10 bars of Canon in D. I received the video just before dinner time, and I decided to comment after I ate. I sat down later that night and wrote: "Great job, have you been practicing each hand separately? This is a baroque piece, so make sure your phrasing has clear boundaries." 

Then I hit sent. 

And under the message, it read "Failed to deliver". 

I reconnected to my wifi and resent. Same message. 

"NO, no, no," I clutched my phone and scrolled through our message history frantically. 

I went through my contact list and clicked on "Cate" as though struck by a streak of boldness. Then I texted: "I'm so sorry about everything, can we please talk?" 

Failed to deliver.

I collapsed on the floor and began sobbing uncontrollably. The feeling that the world was being pulled from under my feet came back all over again. I couldn't form any coherent thoughts except for one: I was completely cut off from Cate Blanchett's life.