She'd been hunched over her keyboard for a few minutes, but every track she tried left her unsatisfied. Belinda sighed, glanced at her watch, and thought that perhaps it wasn't the right day to continue working on her song. She'd abandoned it for a few days, but her thoughts kept returning to the notebook hidden in her bag, and she knew she wouldn't be satisfied until it was finished.
That day they'd followed the guys to the final sound checks in Cologne, and since she didn't have to rehearse her stage appearance, she'd hidden herself back in the rehearsal room.
Time was flying by, and in a week, they'd be returning home to Italy. She sighed, trying to push the thought away, even though she knew she didn't want to leave the family she'd found, but how could she? She had no further reason to stop...
Fortunately, she'd completely recovered, and even the rash on her shoulder had disappeared.
She started playing the tracks again, and after several attempts, she found one that suited her. She played it again and began hitting the keys, layering the notes of her song. She really liked the electronic part, and if she could record the backing track with the keyboard part included, she'd only have to worry about the guitar and vocals.
Who knew if Bill would like it and understand that...? She blushed a little, embarrassed, because it was the first time she'd completely exposed her soul, not only as a woman but also as an artist.
Perhaps, unknowingly, she'd written that song to leave the boy a sign of her passage in his life, a strange summer that could also have a future...
Now her decision to enroll in university depended on that, she could no longer pretend to ignore it: if that story ended the following week, she'd return to Turin and put her German parenthesis in a drawer.
She didn't flinch when she heard footsteps behind her, but simply pointed to an electric guitar. "Take that and play whenever you want, Tom."
The boy smiled and did as he was told: they didn't even need to speak anymore, the understanding they had reached was perfect.
After a few unsuccessful attempts, Belinda began to sing, infusing emotion into every word.
As they performed the musical part of the chorus, raising her head to follow Tom's movements, she noticed a small red light on above the control room glass, but even squinting, she couldn't see anyone on the other side. She thought the technician had forgotten, and was so lost in thought that she didn't resume singing, but she was surprised to see that the song continued anyway. It was Tom singing, his voice low, a little hoarse, but it conveyed an overwhelming and unexpected emotion. It lasted only a few moments, but Belinda motioned for him to continue, while he lowered his head, embarrassed.
"Go on, Tom, let's each do a bit!" she urged him. "It'll let me know if it's working properly."
The boy continued alone for a few verses, until, at the chorus, Belinda's voice joined his, giving it a more raspy, intimate tone.
At the end of the performance, she looked at him enthusiastically.
"Damn, Tom, you have an amazing voice!" she exclaimed. "How come I've never heard you, other than singing backing vocals?"
"I like making music, not singing," the boy dismissed.
"But I like the way it turns out when we perform together! Will you help me? Please!" she begged, looking at him and batting her eyelashes playfully.
He burst out laughing. "Stop it!"
"This song is partly yours too. I couldn't have finished it without your help."
"But you did it all by yourself, both the music and the lyrics!" he scoffed.
"A song isn't just made of that, but also of emotions… And you helped me with those!"
Tom looked at her for a long time, shaking his head slowly, as she clasped her hands in prayer, making a sad face.
"All right, we'll record it together!" he said, laughing.
"Yes," the girl exclaimed happily, going to hug him, even though the guitar prevented her from doing so properly.
Then she returned to her station, picked up the instrument, and began to play. Belinda's voice rose first, then Tom sang, and finally they reached the chorus, which they sang together, smiling and exchanging knowing glances.
Finally, they looked at each other, exhausted but happy, and as the girl stood up to exchange a few more thoughts, Bill and André entered, the former with an irritated look, the latter with a calculating smile.
"Bill!" she exclaimed in surprise, stiffening. "Finished already?"
"I tried to finish earlier because I didn't want to leave you alone too long... but I see you've found a good job!"
His voice sounded irritated, but she didn't understand why he was so angry. She looked at André, who shrugged, as he handed her a CD.
"Here, I took the liberty of recording your song, so you can listen to it calmly and decide what to do with it."
Belinda exchanged a glance with Bill, who continued to stare at her accusingly, while André waited for her answer.
He shook himself, trying to focus his attention back on the manager. "I don't understand, André. What do you mean, what do we want to do with it?"
"You don't want to record it?" the man asked, surprised.
The two boys looked at each other for a moment and then, in unison, replied: "No!"
"Then why did you write it?" he asked, perplexed.
"The song is Bel's! He didn't write it to record it, it's... a gift!" Tom replied, looking at his brother.
"Oh, I see!" André replied, even though he seemed to have understood nothing.
"Bill..." the girl began, approaching, but he took a step away.
"If you're finished, I'd like to go home: I have a headache." His tone of voice was annoyed.
"Sure, fine," Belinda agreed, dismayed and sad. She took the CD André handed her and, gathering her things, headed toward the corridor, down which Bill had already disappeared. Tom reached her and put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll talk to Bill!" She quickened her pace to catch up with him.
The girl sighed sadly as Naomi walked toward her. She asked what had happened, seeing as she'd encountered the two brothers arguing heatedly and Tom was calling Bill a blockhead, telling him to go to hell.
Belinda told her everything and couldn't understand why Bill hadn't understood.
"He's probably jealous," Naomi replied. "You know how he is: he has to be the center of everyone's attention, right?"
"I refuse to think he's that narrow-minded!"
"So he's jealous of his brother," Naomi replied.
Belinda shook her head. "What, jealous of Tom? For what? He doesn't think I'm in love with his brother, does he? Or does he think Tom wants to work without him?"
"Well, knowing Bill, he probably thought both options were valid. I hate to admit it because I've defended him for years, but when it comes down to it, your boyfriend is a real idiot. He's capricious and self-centered. Now he feels betrayed by you and his brother, so he'll complain more than usual," Naomi declared.
"If what you say is true... Then I have no reason to stay here anymore, since he doesn't understand anything about me or Tom," Belinda muttered sadly, walking toward the car.
Bill persisted in keeping his head turned toward the window, and in a fit of rage, she refused to sit next to him, preferring to sit in the front seat, next to the driver.
They left quickly, and once they reached home, Belinda went downstairs without looking at him and headed for her room, where she locked herself in.
Enough now, she'd had enough! But how could she make him understand that she loved him, that she didn't want to take away his brother or his success? She had given him herself, her words, her smiles, her tears...
Damn, ungrateful bastard! she screamed silently inside.
She took the demo CD and angrily stuffed it in a drawer. No, she would never cry again!
She sighed deeply and threw herself onto the bed, putting a pillow over her head.
She must have fallen asleep, because when she heard a light knock on the door, she woke with a start. She remembered what had happened that morning and felt sad again.
"Who is it?" she asked annoyed.
"It's me!" The voice that answered didn't come from the bedroom door, but from the bathroom partition.
Belinda got out of bed, barefoot, and went to crack the door, but didn't quite open it. Through the crack, she saw Bill, his head bowed, squinting at her.
"What do you want?" she asked sharply.
"Aren't you letting me in?"
"No."
He raised a surprised eyebrow. "Are you still angry?"
Belinda snorted, lightly punching the door. "What kind of questions are you asking? Just because you're having hysterical fits, I'm supposed to adjust my mood to yours and switch from angry to calm at your whim? No, I'm not angry, I'm furious!"
"I don't understand why you should be the one to get angry," he declared sulkily, leaning against the door. "I'm the one who stood before the scene, looking like an idiot!"
Belinda threw open the door and crossed her arms over her chest, ready for a fight. "What scene are you talking about?"
"You tell Tom that the song was born thanks to the emotions he gave you!" Bill retorted caustically, standing to his full height.
Belinda's mouth dropped open, searching for words to retort, but she felt suffocated by rage. She snapped it shut, took two deep breaths, then went to the drawer, opened it, grabbed the CD, and slammed it into Bill's hand.
"This song is for you, to say thank you and... that's it! Goodbye, Bill, you're a real idiot!"
With a sharp slam, she closed the door in his face and went back to bed.
When she went downstairs for dinner, as she joined Madeleine in the kitchen, she made sure he wasn't around. She willingly helped the woman dress the salad and arrange the enormous steaks on the platter, while she took care of the pasta.
"Oh, no!" Belinda admonished her, coming closer. "Don't you dare make carbonara like that!"
"Why?" the cook asked, surprised, while beating the eggs.
"Real carbonara is made this way!" She took the pancetta, already cut into cubes, and put it in the pan. "You have to fry it like this, see?" With the wooden spoon, she indicated how to mix the ingredients.
"But I've always made it that way, and no one's ever complained!" the woman retorted.
"I believe it, they weren't Italians! And you Germans are so easy to please," the girl replied, laughing.
"I don't eat anything that woman makes anymore, do you?" Tom warned, coming in and seeing her at the stove. "The last time she made dessert, she made us spit it out in the middle of the night."
Belinda waved her spoon. "That's not funny."
"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked seriously.
She smiled amusedly. "If it's to badmouth my carbonara, no!"
Tom grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the kitchen, heading toward the balcony that ran alongside the living room. The French windows were open, offering a beautiful view of the landscape. He leaned against the wall, while she leaned against the railing facing him.
"I talked to him," Tom announced, then shook his head. "But he wouldn't listen to me."
"I believe so," she replied with a grimace. "In his delusions of omnipotence, your brother thinks he's always right. Maybe finding out he didn't understand a damn thing about what he saw could damage his ego."
"He accused me of being dishonest and of plotting behind his back... You should have heard it, it's never happened before!" he complained, annoyed.
"I think he's jealous. He's afraid I want to take you away from him, both emotionally and professionally."
"Has this reached such a point of stupidity?" he asked incredulously.
"Are you asking me? If I think that… Let's forget it. Let's just say I think Tom loves you so much and is afraid of being alone. And since I'm the one causing all this, he's taking all his anger out on me," she admitted bitterly.
Tom snorted. "But he can tell from a mile away that he adores you! You should have seen him when you fainted, he started screaming like a madman, he looked like he was having hysterics."
"He was just scared," Belinda shrugged.
"Why not me? I wasn't acting like a sissy!"
She laughed. "But you are Tom, the superhero!"
"Sure, of course!" he replied with a smile, giving her a light pat. "Anyway, I'm convinced he's not so normal since he met you."
"Don't worry, it will all be over soon," the girl sighed. "Next week we'll leave and all this will just be a memory."
Tom looked at her carefully. "Are you really determined?"
"Yes, now more than ever," she murmured. "And while I should be thanking you for all your help, I'm forced to wrong you..."
"For what?"
"Well... by leaving, I'll take Naomi with me."
"...what do you mean, excuse me? I knew she was leaving with you, so I don't see what..."
"Please, Tom, don't lie to me, please."
"I don't lie!" he defended himself.
Belinda snorted and wagged a finger under his nose.
"It seems it's a family flaw to deny your feelings... Better not tell me anything, I think I've gotten to know you!"
They stared at each other for a while, and then Belinda turned to look at the landscape.
"I gave it to her, you know?" she whispered.
"What? To whom?"
"The CD to Bill. I gave it to him." She laughed softly. "Even if I gave it to him, I didn't say it… I threw it in his hand and slammed the door in his face, telling him he's a real idiot."
"Damn! And him?" she asked, surprised.
"I didn't check to see if he stayed behind the door."
"Just the way you treat him sometimes, you should never leave, Bel! Who's going to give me that kind of satisfaction?"
They burst out laughing, even though they weren't really enjoying themselves. They shrugged and decided to go back, seeing as the noise of the others sitting down at the table was coming from the living room.
Bill was there, even though he was wearing a hat that covered his head and hid his eyes. Madeleine was cuddling him, asking him how he was and if he'd like something special, but he shook his head, saying he'd eat lightly and go to bed early. Belinda was tempted to retreat to her room immediately, but she didn't want to give in to him; so, she grabbed her plate, filled it with a huge portion of carbonara, and sat down right across from him. Everyone looked at her in amazement, but she picked up her fork and began to eat. He realized she was truly hungry, considering she'd skipped lunch.
"Linda, won't all that pasta hurt you?" her sister asked incredulously.
"I'm hungry. Plus, I'm eating Tom's share, because he dared to criticize my cooking!" she muttered through her mouth.
"Well done, our little girl!" Kristian laughed, slapping her on the back, almost making her choke. "Eat a lot so you can grow at least a few inches!"
Despite the strong temptation to tell him to go to hell for the joke, Belinda winked and continued eating. She'd actually overdone the portion a bit, but she was so angry at Bill's whole pitiful display that she'd rather have vomited all night, but he wouldn't have left her even a crumb.
The others helped themselves, while Tom, with a greedy look, looked at his plate. "But aren't you leaving me even a little?"
"You should have thought about that before making your stupid jokes," she replied, pulling her plate closer. "I don't like people who don't trust me!"
Bill looked up glaringly, but she dared him to contradict her, jutting her chin forward. He studied her for a long moment, but Belinda confronted him, hissing, "And that goes for you too!"
She then swallowed the last large forkful, emptying her plate, and rose from the table, moving toward the kitchen.
"There, as usual, it's your fault!" Klaus declared, looking at his empty plate. "You're acting stupid, and we're playing for our pasta! Madeleine, tell me there's any left in the kitchen!"
Tom made an offended face, pointing to his brother, who continued to scrutinize everyone with disdain, while the cook went to retrieve what was left.
"Stop playing the victim, Bill, no one will believe you anyway!" Naomi raged mercilessly. "Belinda may have all her faults, but if she's this pissed off, it means you've done something serious to her. She gets angry enough when she's wrong and has to apologize, but when she's right, she's capable of making even the devil spit his soul out! You don't know her at all!"
Annalisa nodded dejectedly, remembering Belinda's various outbursts that had lasted for weeks, during which you couldn't even look at her, because she'd explode like a bomb.
"I'll pack my suitcase tonight!" Annalisa muttered under her breath. "I don't feel like confronting her when she's like this, especially if I'm not the one who made her angry."
"But is it that serious?" Hellen asked, surprised. "From what little I know of her, I can't imagine her as you describe."
"You just wait," Naomi replied, barely looking up. "He's coming back!"
They saw her walk back quickly, and without even looking at them, she headed for her room, slamming the door behind her.
She emerged after a few minutes, dressed and ready to go. She headed over to her sister and gave her a tight smile. "I'm going into town with Mark to buy some things... And no, you can't come! See you later."
She slung her jacket and bag over one shoulder, turning to wave. Their shocked faces and Bill's fiery look were the best things she saw before closing the door and getting in the car with Mark, heading downtown.
The night would be all hers!