Roseanne spent the entire drive home choking back tears, her hands wrapped around the steering wheel in a vise grip.
What was she going to do? She wouldn't have even taken the damn audition if she thought there was any chance that she would win.
The whole situation angered her. She hadn't wanted to take it. She hadn't even been trying. She had only taken it because she felt as though she had to, and now, instead of being resolved, this was a situation she couldn't ignore.
Had she actually tried, if she had cared, then she knew she would not have won. That was the case more often but then, it wasn't. Twice she had shown up, ready and sounding musically perfect, with no other prospects, desperate for a job, and she hadn't won. As a matter of fact, the last time she had auditioned in Louisville they had told her that they "didn't think her sound would blend well with the section," which was really just a polite way of saying that they hated her playing or that she played too loudly or too softly or not "musically" enough.
"Fuck!" she cried as traffic entering the city made her come to a standstill.
She had caught her unicorn, and now that she had it, she didn't want it.
The trouble was, her position in Chicago was temporary. Even if Hilary didn't come back for another season, she would probably be back at least part-time the one after that. Somehow, in all of Roseanne's planning and ranting on the way to Louisville, that point had slipped her mind. Now it blared like a neon sign, reminding her that no matter what, she would be out on her ass once more. Did she really have the right to turn this down?
She sniffed and scoffed at herself, knowing that this was exactly why Lisa hadn't wanted her to take the audition.
The job was not a perfect one. She didn't want to live in Kentucky; she would have to join a different union, and the pay was not great. But could she call herself a good mom if she walked away from this? It was a full-time orchestra job with salary, with honest-to-god benefits. Lyric was the dream, the goal even, but how could she know that would work out? It was pointless to lie to herself; Lyric would be a cutthroat audition in which only the very best would advance to the final round. She would take it because she hoped and she dreamed, but the odds of her winning were a million to one. What auditions would come up once she was back on unemployment and panicking daily about where her next paycheck came from? She had no way of knowing. There could be twenty auditions, all easy to win and all well-paying or there could be none. There was no way for her to know in advance.
What it came down to was that she didn't have the right to say no. She had promised Luke that they wouldn't go back to life on the road, to moving every year. It was her job to feed him and to clothe him. She had to do what was best for Luke.
But what exactly was best for him?
"Shit." Roseanne slammed her palms on the steering wheel.
What about Lisa? Could she leave her behind? Could she take her away from Luke?
She slammed against the solid wheel again, just for good measure. She wished she hadn't gone. She had no idea what she would do next.
The moment that the elevator doors opened into the loft, Roseanne knew something was very different. The loft had smelled of nothing but the pine of their Christmas tree and Lisa's particular scent when she left, but this, she wrinkled her nose, this was unpleasant. Lisa rarely allowed anything unpleasant in her home; she was far too much of a perfectionist.
"Close your eyes!" Luke commanded before she could take her first step.
She yelped, reflexively slamming her eyes shut, startled as she heard his little feet flying up the stairs.
"Close your eyes! Close your eyes! Close your eyes!"
"I did!" She let out a moan of pain as, stepping from the elevator blind, her knees collided with the middle bar of the catwalk's metal banister. "Ow! Christ! What's wrong? What's happening? What's wrong?"
"Why would you assume anything was wrong, Ms. Park?"
That deeply sensual voice followed by the clicking of heels on the metal stairs sent a small shiver down her spine and brought a smile to her face that she had to bite away as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. She had missed it. Even with her eyes closed she could picture Lisa watching her with that wide grin on her face, her eyes sparkling a bit with mirth. She could see, in her mind's eye, Lisa in one of those outfits that Roseanne loved, like her black pencil skirt and burgundy wrap-around top, her black suede heels so tall that they made her just a shade taller than Roseanne despite the fact that Roseanne was a few inches taller than her out of them.
Roseanne clicked her tongue, wanting to open her eyes and see if she was right, wanting to see the teasing look on her face.
God, Lisa was addicting.
A warm, familiar hand covered her eyes. Soft lips brushed hers and whispered, "Welcome home."
Roseanne made a sound of contentment and smiled. She wanted to climb into that brush of lips and live there. "Hey wait, come back."
She felt Lisa's laughter breeze across her cheek before she pulled away.
"Ew! Come on! Stop kissing! Kissing is gross!" Luke groaned, pulling Roseanne's arm toward the stairs. "You're gonna get cooties!"
Roseanne gasped, honestly offended. She had been dreading the day that he would start saying things like that. "Who told you about cooties?"
"John! He said, he said that – that you gets them from kissing girls! So watch out!"
"Uh-huh, but who needs to watch out, kid? Do I need to watch out for Lisa, or does Lisa need to watch out for me?"
There were a few moments of silence in which Roseanne did her best not to laugh. She didn't need to see him to know what his face looked like. His finger was most likely pulling on his bottom lip, his eyebrows drawn so tightly that they looked like they were going to snap at any moment as he tried to puzzle out the riddle.
Luke, it seemed, couldn't come up with a good answer, so instead he yelled, "Come on, Mommy, come oooon!"
Roseanne scoffed, but because she didn't have another choice, she nervously let her four-year-old lead her down the stairs where the smell only grew stronger.
"Is that... paint?"
"Ready?" he asked, clearly excited.
"I guess so, kid."
"No need to be nervous." Lisa's voice came from beside her.
"Open your eyes!" Luke cried.
The first thing she saw was her boy, jumping up and down in place.
"Oh my god! Look at you!" She scooped him up so she could get a better look. When she had left, Luke had been in dire need of a haircut, his blond curls growing shaggy around his ears. Now the top was spiked into a wild disarray, his hair significantly shorter and styled perfectly. "Oh my god, your hair!" she gasped, running her fingers through the gelled spikes.
He grinned, his dimples standing out proudly. "I'm stylish!"
"I had an appointment for a haircut today," Lisa explained, "and Luke wanted one, too. I hope you don't mind. I recall you saying he needed a cut."
A little dazed, Roseanne shook her head, wondering exactly how much Lisa had spent on a four-year-old's haircut. If it was the same place she usually went, then surely it had been a lot. Roseanne wondered idly if Lisa would let her pay her back.
But before the usual stomach churning over money could start, Luke was squirming out of her arms yelling that she needed to "lookit!"
"Wha—"
Luke pulled her arm, and finally Roseanne noticed what he had been trying to show her.
The change wasn't huge, but it rocked the apartment from top to bottom. Her jaw fell open as she took in the guest room in front of her. The black curtains that once slid closed over three glass walls had been changed to a deep, rusty maroon. Behind it, Roseanne could see that the remaining wall, the only one made of stone, had been repainted from its original bricked white to Luke's favorite shade of Supergirl red. The bedding had also been replaced from the classic white comforter to a cool blue. Suddenly, the room that had always been so stark and cold exploded into a Color-By-Number representation of her son; there was even a large and highly realistic painting of the symbol of the House of El hanging over the bed.
"He's obsessed with that show," she muttered to herself, having sat through so many episodes of not Superman, but Supergirl. She was sure the main character was Luke's first crush.
Roseanne didn't realize that she was staring, eyes fully blown until they began to sting. Blinking fast, she turned to Lisa, hoping that the right thing would pop out. Before it could, Luke spun her around. Her jaw dropped to the ground when she realized that his room wasn't the only one that had changed.
"We brought color!" Luke cheered, still jumping as if he were on a trampoline.
Where a geometric black-and-white throw rug had once lived in the downstairs living room now sat a swirling earth-toned design. It set off the one wall that had been painted a deep plum. The black and white couches had been replaced with warm, comfortable-looking, wine-colored ones. Even a few of the steel appliances had been replaced with counterparts of mustard yellow and gray.
Upstairs Roseanne could see that the wall of the office had been painted a dark crème, and far across the loft, the wall above Lisa's bed was now a shade of midnight blue.
The stark loft, once so mathematical, had evolved into a rich and warm den, screaming of homey comfort.
"Whoa! Guys!"
"Do you like it?" Lisa was leaning against her as though she had been gone far too long, her fingers running up and down Roseanne's spine.
"You painted your room blue." She had meant to tell her it looked good, to approve of their choice, but instead her voice came out thin and shocked.
"I did," Lisa said, ducking her head slightly. "I've found that I have grown rather sentimental over that color in previous months."
Roseanne just stared at her, overwhelmed.
"Do you like it?" Lisa's hand brushed her shoulder, her face hopeful.
"This looks amazing," Roseanne finally said, breaking free of her stupor. "How did you do this so fast?"
"What, this? It's only a few accent walls." But Roseanne could see that Lisa was proud of the work she and Luke had done together.
Roseanne wanted to ask her why she had done it, but she couldn't. She had to sit down.
Lisa had painted her spare bedroom for her son. She had painted her bedroom to remind them both of what could easily be called their first date. That thought made her head spin and her heart beat a little faster.
She looked up at Lisa. There was a shy look there, in her eyes, something soft and sweet. They weren't going to talk about it or what it meant, not yet, but she knew they both understood.
Overwhelmed, Roseanne popped every joint she could pop before she ran her fingers through her hair, huffing in and out.
"So how did the audition go?" Lisa asked. "My mother tried to call me this morning, but we were busy painting."
Perhaps it was the shock she still felt coursing through her because, as wise as it would have been to lie or to soften her words, she instead simply said them. "I won."
Lisa's features went round, looking like someone had just politely and almost sweetly stuck her with a pin. "Oh!"
"Yeah," Roseanne said slowly, "totally." She tried at a smile and failed. Avoiding Lisa's eyes wasn't going to help anything, so reluctantly she looked up. It upset and surprised her to see the look on Lisa's face.
Lisa was smiling, her lips drawn into a too-large grin, but her eyes were intense, her eyebrows tight, and the vein in her forehead popped out under her skin.
"Lis—" Roseanne jumped when Luke let out a bloodcurdling scream.
"We're moving?" Clearly her eavesdropping son had put two and two together. His fists had clenched into balls at his side, his face as red as the new wall in his room. She had never seen that look on her little boy's face before: rage, hurt, and – hate, honest hate. "No! You said you wouldn't! I won't! No!" He bellowed at the top of his lungs and, throwing down Monkeyz, ran full tilt into the guest room. He slammed the door so hard the glass rattled, and Roseanne winced, fearing it would break.
Roseanne stared in disbelief at the abandoned comfort toy. He never left Monkeyz behind. He had had him for so long, he went everywhere with him. It sent hurt throbbing through every cell of her body, a hurt that only got worse when she looked back up at Lisa's face. If a few moments before Lisa had been trying for the sun shining with joy at their new remodel, now she was the darkest night, her brows and lips twisted into a frown, pain screaming from her usually warm eyes.
"You're leaving?" she whispered.
Roseanne didn't know what to say. Her mouth worked, but no sound followed.
"I see." Lisa straightened her skirt, retreating behind her mask.
"No, Lisa, I don't know." She jumped up, reaching for her hands, but they were denied as Lisa took a small step away. Pain and guilt ripped through Roseanne's chest. She hated being the bad guy. "I don't know if I'm going to go, but even if I do, it's only five hours away."
Lisa scoffed, turning away from her.
Roseanne stomped twice, but Lisa just settled on the new couch, folding into a stiff upright pose. Roseanne dropped to her knees before her. "I don't know, Lisa. Can you talk to me, please? I don't know what to do."
"What is there to do, Roseanne? This is part of the job."
The ice in her voice slapped hard across Roseanne's cheek. She hadn't been the recipient of that tone since they first met. "Lisa. My position here is temporary. Hilary is already around, she's everywhere, at your office, at your mom's. I have to think about Luke. I don't want to go, god I don't want to go, but I'm not sure I can say no to this job. Will you please talk it out with me? I need some help. Please take that look out of your eyes. "
Lisa laughed without color, brushing her own hair away from her face. "Am I so transparent?"
Roseanne smiled, trying to be smug and missing her mark. "You are to me."
Softly, her face still cold, Lisa caressed Roseanne's cheek.
"It's not like we wouldn't see each other. Five hours is nothing. Besides, I really don't know. I haven't decided." That was her problem. "I don't know what to do. I don't know if I have a job when the new season starts after Christmas. I don't know if I have a job after that."
"I can't help you with that decision, Roseanne." Lisa shook her head sadly.
"I don't see how I can turn down that steady of a paycheck, Lis. I just—" She groaned. "I want to." She did. For the first time in her adult life, she honestly wanted to turn down a job despite the fact that taking it was perhaps the more responsible thing to do.
Lisa's hand had been tracing Roseanne's hand on her thigh. She paused for a moment, her face clear of all emotion before she began to retrace, this time hurried and anxious. "If the only reason you are considering this is because of the financial aspects of the job, then please don't."
Roseanne laughed, throwing herself back against the couch beside Lisa. "And what am I going to do once the job here is done? What if nothing else comes along?"
Lisa sighed deeply. "There is plenty to go around here, Roseanne. This is Chicago. There is always work here for an artist. Please don't let money be your motivating factor. There will be work, and I am always happy to help when I can."
Roseanne sat for a moment processing that, her jaw tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing. Her voice had been so kind when she said it that Roseanne knew she hadn't meant offense, and yet, she was offended. She could feel her hackles rising, and though she tried to stop it, she couldn't seem to, not with the added stress of this job, of Hilary, of not knowing what her future looked like. "So what, if I don't have a job when this one is over you'll, what, float us?"
Lisa's brow furrowed. "Float you? Roseanne, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that doesn't need to be where your head is right now. Please don't let your finances motivate a decision that could affect your life so thoroughly. Luke's life, too."
Roseanne had watched Lisa's hands moving as she spoke in disbelief, willing herself to stay calm. "Don't let it motivate me? God, that's really easy for you to say, isn't it?" Roseanne stood, too agitated to sit anymore.
"Roseanne, what's mine is yours."
Was she kidding? "Like fancy winter jackets and two hundred dollar haircuts for a four-year-old," she ranted, knowing full well that she was moving too quickly for Lisa to see her lips move.
"Roseanne, I'm happy to help. After all, you're giving me so much more in life right now."
"Are you serious?" What did Lisa think of her? Was she just going to be Lisa's mistress then? Lisa paid her bills and so long as Roseanne warmed her bed at night, then it was all fine? She swung back around, making her lover wince a bit. "You know, I don't think you fully understand this, but I'm not with you for your money, Lisa."
Lisa's mouth fell open in surprise, but Roseanne turned away again, embarrassed, depressed. Only, she couldn't turn her back on her right now, so she flipped back around. The look of absolute confusion on Lisa's face only made her more upset.
"You can't solve every problem by throwing money at it, Lisa!"
Lisa blinked a few times, fast. "And what is that supposed to mean exactly?"
Only now Roseanne wasn't sure how to continue. She hadn't meant to say that. It had just popped out. This was not the way to have this talk. She hadn't decided how to have this talk, but she couldn't just do it because she was angry. Hands hooked into her back pockets, she shook her head.
"Roseanne."
Instead of listening, she moved away and tried to open the door to her son's new room.
She was met with a knob that refused to turn.
"Okay." She gave a dry laugh, turning to Lisa could see her speak. "How did I not know this room had a lock on it?"
Lisa's eyebrows shot up. "It has never even occurred to me that it did."
Roseanne knocked. "Luke, unlock the door. Luke!"
Lisa unfolded herself from the couch and came to tap lightly on the glass. "Luke, this is inappropriate. Open the door, please."
Roseanne's anger only rose as Luke refused to open the door.
It took ten minutes and a few threats of Santa only visiting the good little boys before he opened the door, head hanging, face tear-stained, nose running.
Seeing him that upset sent a battle of conflicting feelings through Roseanne. She wanted to scoop him up and hug him to her, she wanted to wipe away his tears, but she was also furious with him.
Roseanne made a mental note to do something about that lock before she sat him firmly on the couch. "Luke, I understand you are sad, but that," she angrily pointed back toward the guest room, "is not how you behave! Do you understand me?" She felt Lisa's hand on her shoulder and realized she was yelling at her already upset toddler. She took a deep, steadying breath, feeling tears burning hot in her eyes. She didn't want to be in this position. She was angry, but only a very small part of her was angry with him. She was mostly angry with herself, at her career, at Lisa for her kind but oh-so-insulting offer, at the choice she now had to make.
She had become a musician to create beauty, but was there really anything more beautiful than what she had with Lisa? Then again, could she really know that, if she stayed, she and Lisa would last? The odds were they wouldn't; that wasn't how relationships worked in Roseanne's experience. They were burning bright together, but eventually they would fizzle out and die.
Luke was scowling when she looked at him again, having won the battle against the tears. His arms were folded tightly across his little chest, his face set. He was ready for a fight.
"Luke," she tried again in a much softer tone. "Do you hear me?"
"Yes!" he yelled with a red face.
"Luke!" Roseanne barked back.
"Luke," Lisa began, her voice soft and sweet compared to Roseanne's, "why don't you sit on the couch for a few minutes and try to cool down?"
"I'm in time out?" he screamed at the top of his lungs, creating his own personal green disco with the apartment's noise sensors.
