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As of yesterday, Steven had shown up at the hospital to harass her twice. Did twice count as establishing a pattern, or could that only be said about something that happened three times? Diana wasn’t the best at recognizing patterns. She was only good at making and perpetuating them.
She still remembered the first time she picked up a tambourine. Her parents had never been musical and didn’t think of it as something to foster in their daughter. They had never been especially religious, either, but then Grampa died and Mom started dragging them all to church on the regular. It was at the Easter festival when the youth pastor handed her a strange round object with ribbons coming out of it.
Diana didn’t particularly like going to church. She found it grim, sad, and boring, even when they tried to add some pizzazz for the kids. She stood pouting with the tambourine dangling soundlessly from her hand for quite a while, uninspired by the festivals pale pastels. And then, by chance, her hand twitched, making the thing jingle. It was a cheerful sound, and when she went to reproduce it, she found herself laughing alongside it.
As the festival went on, while her little brother joined the other kids hunting eggs and running around the maypole, Diana stood off to the side and toyed around with her tambourine. She watched the youth pastor with his, and mimicked him as he shook it in time with his songs. She didn’t have the vocabulary to express this yet, but she’d always assumed that music was just about changing pitch to make a nice melody, something neither she nor anyone else in her family had any aptitude for. That day, she was introduced to rhythm, an aspect of music that would become second nature to her. It was math; it was patterns.
She had always been good at patterns.
Diana came into work hoping that, unlike the day before, it would be a normal shift. That hope was dashed when Dr. Rosen greeted her with a deeper scowl than usual, and her first patient spoke to her carefully and piteously, looking like she wanted to apologize when she unthinkingly mentioned her own ex-husband. How even the patients knew her business was a mystery to her until she stopped by the nurses’ station for a chart and found a gaggle of three coworkers whispering and giggling to each other. The way they shushed and stopped when Diana passed them told her everything she needed to know.
There was a stereotype that Diana had seen circulated on social media, that the mean girls from high school grow up to be nurses. She didn’t bother getting defensive over this – even in high school she’d been aware she was kind and giving to a fault, and she was secure in this. Not to mention, she knew for a fact her exception didn’t disprove the rule. She had seen other nurses be callous with coworkers and patients alike. But as long as Diana herself was there to be gentle with anyone she saw them mistreat, she thought there was a certain balance.
What she didn’t know was how to apply that when she herself was the victim. She smiled at the three nurses and asked them if they needed any help with anything and even complimented one of them on her earrings, and then she worked with a pit in her stomach until lunch. Yesterday, she’d smiled at Steven and tried to pacify him in the same way. She couldn’t help herself.
She was trying to find an empty table in the cafeteria when the head nurse, Rebecca, invited her to eat outside. “It’s finally getting warmer,” she said. “You look like you could use some sun.”
Diana glanced at the windows and the wan clouds that darkened them. Even a properly sunny day wouldn’t do much to ease her pallor, rather burn her and double the amount of freckles on her face. But at Diana’s hesitation, Rebecca gave her a hard, insistent look, and soon, Diana was gulping down her hot soup to try and warm herself against the chill of the outdoors and Rebecca’s company.
She was another nurse who didn’t live up to the mean girl stereotype. At least, that’s what Diana hoped. Rebecca was nearly six feet tall and surprisingly muscular, with a gruff and direct bedside manner, and she could have done some real damage as a bully. Luckily, she didn’t seem interested in socializing with her peers in any capacity, beyond a professional one. Even now, after coming to Diana’s rescue, she ate silently, twisting in discomfort on her bench whenever Diana looked at her.
“So, are you doing anything fun for Easter?” Diana wasn’t really the type who needed to fill every empty moment with her voice. She could abide silence just fine. What she couldn’t handle was the thought that someone might be unhappy with her. She saw Rebecca’s default frown and needed to appease, appease, appease. “I mean, not to assume you celebrate,” she rambled when Rebecca went several seconds without answering the question. “Or that you’re not busy that day. I mean, I’m working on Easter, so there’s no reason to expect you wouldn’t be, too…”
“I’ll shut down those gossips next chance I get,” Rebecca interrupted. “The last people I need on my staff are bitches.”
“Oh!” Diana startled at the nasty word coming from someone with authority. She dropped her spoon and waved her hands in front of her. “Well, that’s not necessary.”
“It is. I need to make sure you feel safe here.” Rebecca gave Diana a meaningful look.
“You’re already doing a great job,” replied Diana without thinking. Truth was, she hadn’t felt safe in a long time. And what could Rebecca possibly do about it? What could Rebecca do if Steven showed up again? If he was coming back, it would be soon, too. Diana didn’t look forward to Easter because Steven didn’t like spending any holiday alone. She’d requested holiday hours, but now that even her work wasn’t a safe haven…
“Sure,” said Rebecca with a scoff.
The silence that followed was long. It was long enough that Diana could have easily voiced her biggest concerns and then some in the time. But she wasn’t one to complain. And before she could muster the resolve to speak up, their break was already coming to an end.
“So. Same place tomorrow?” said Rebecca as Diana gathered up her tray and refuse.
Diana gaped. “What? Are you serious?” She hoped she wasn’t coming off as unwilling, when truly she was grateful to Rebecca for pulling her away from the mean girls. Still, it had been a somewhat painful lunch.
Rebecca seemed to agree. She cleared her throat, clearly reluctant to say whatever she intended to. Diana tried not to take it personally. “Look, Diana. It’s clear to me you don’t have a lot of friends in this hospital. And given what’s been happening lately, you probably need one. I’ll warn you it’s not my forte, but I’m here to listen if you need it.”
“I… I don’t want to talk about Steven, Rebecca.” Diana didn’t even talk about Steven with her friends outside of work. She didn’t want them to worry about her, even if she knew they could at least serve as emotional support. And she kind of doubted that Rebecca could even do that.
“We don’t have to talk about him,” said Rebecca. “I promise, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. These lunches can be a distraction, if that’s what you need. And I’m sure we’ll have stuff to talk about. You have hobbies, don’t you? Surely you have hobbies beyond working and fending off ex-husbands.”
Diana was never the kind of child to throw tantrums or rock the boat in any way, but she was upset enough after the Easter festival ended that her parents relented, and soon enough, she owned a tambourine of her very own. She added red ribbons to it and took to making rhythms like a fish takes to water. She would put on performances for her little brother and they were crowd-pleasers to be sure. He would clap along to the beat she created and she even attempted a dance or two. That was another thing the entire LaBelle family struggled with, dance, but Diana found that drumming alongside it really helped her. The tambourine gave her a framework to base her dance around in a way music with more instruments didn’t. Her brother would later describe her dancing as “passable.”
She grew up into a straight-A student, a diligent doer of chores, a caring sister and a community-minded extracurricular star. All the while, her collection of percussion instruments was growing. She had maracas, castanets, bells, bongos, and a xylophone, and in high school, she asked for a full drum kit for Christmas. Her parents, already divorced at this point, both chipped in to buy her one without complaints, and she kept it at her mother’s house. Mom appreciated the respectful volume Diana kept her practice to, but she saw that the drums were a strange hobby to keep locked up in one’s house. She suggested many times that Diana join the school band, but Diana refused.
Band would have been a great extracurricular for a self-proclaimed nerd like Diana. Many years later, she still wonders about it, if starting her career, as it were, in high school would have changed the course of her musical journey and other avenues of her life by extension. At the time, though, she was just embarrassed. None of her friends knew about her love of percussion, and she wanted it to stay that way. The drums were rebellious. They were masculine. They were angry. They didn’t fit into the way Diana presented herself, and as with most teenagers, she was still uncomfortable containing contradictions and breaking out of her mold.
Also like most teenagers, Diana started to break out of this rigidity in college. For better or for worse, she still didn’t know to this day.
“A band. Huh. I never would have pegged you for the type.”
Diana reddened. She was long past her embarrassment around her musical interests, but she still didn’t tell a lot of people about them because this kind of reaction was a bit tiresome. She knew she was sweet, she knew she was agreeable, she knew that like with so many other things she didn’t fit the stereotype of the angry, uncontrollable drummer. She’d heard it all so many times before.
And as uninterested as she was in molding herself to fit people’s expectations, hearing them repeatedly for so long made it unavoidable that she would change subconsciously.
Rebecca didn’t dwell on it, though. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s neat.” She smiled. She was as stiff and awkward as ever, but something about the change of day had done wonders for her friendliness. Maybe it had something to do with the sun actually shining without obstruction. Or maybe Rebecca needed to get over some social anxiety before she got comfortable; Diana did start to notice the fearful way Rebecca rubbed the back of her neck during moments of silence. Thankfully, there were fewer of those today. “Anyone who can make music is automatically really impressive to me. And your family was so supportive of it. That’s lucky.”
Diana’s ears perked up at that. She’d tried to start lunch by asking for some more information about Rebecca, only to be completely stonewalled on the subject. A comment about family probably wasn’t the best thing to poke at, but it was at least a suggestion of something about the ever-mysterious Rebecca. And if they were going to be friends, Diana felt like she needed that something.
“Playing the drums seems so physically taxing,” Rebecca continued. “So, especially difficult.”
Diana glanced at Rebecca’s toned bicep and raised an eyebrow. “I’m sure you would do fine at it.”
“No thanks, I have no sense of rhythm whatsoever. And I have plenty of opportunity to let out my aggression.”
Diana frowned. “Aggression?” she parroted, bracing herself for the exact type of judgment she was used to.
“I just mean to say, you’re a kind soul, Diana.” That was expected, but what Rebecca said next was a surprise. “So it makes sense that you’d take some comfort in the drums. From what I’ve seen, people are nothing but awful to you, and you never give anything back. It must feel good to hit something really hard every once in a while, yeah?”
Diana tilted her head. No one had ever put it to her that way before, that playing the drums didn’t necessarily make her an angry person but was merely a way to get out the everyday frustrations that she just had as a person. But Diana had dug deep down within herself to find her anger and aggression before, and she genuinely thought it might not exist, not even in response to those regular frustrations. She was only ever belligerent when getting too drunk, and not only had she been trying hard not to drink since Steven, but that aggression was mostly a false screen brought on by the alcohol.
“That’s not really it,” said Diana. “Not for me, at least. I just think I’m not a leader?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Explain?”
“I just mean…” Diana poked at her creamed corn, chewing on the thought. “Rhythm is the heart of music, you know? That’s what makes me so interested in music, at least. And sure, you can play a guitar or a piano or even sing rhythmically, but it’s hard to do those things without drawing attention to yourself. I can bask in a drum solo every other song or so, but I’m most comfortable when I’m supporting whoever wants to be in charge.” She laughed. “Maybe I shouldn’t be saying that to my boss.”
“Maybe now I’ll put you in a leadership position sometime, just to prove you can do it.” Rebecca laughed along with her. There was a grimness to it that made Diana unsure how much she was joking. “You said you played by yourself when you were a kid, besides. Does that not count as leading?”
“Never in front of an audience! And it’s not like anyone is really asking for solo drum performances, are they?”
“They would, if you’re as good as you claim to be.”
Diana shrugged, knowing that if she ever intended to drum for an audience again, that would be her only option after what happened with Fran.
Alicia and Fran were Diana’s best friends in undergrad. Alicia, an English major, was Diana’s freshman roommate, while Fran was a pre-med student who coached Diana on things she might not learn in nursing school. Fran also happened to be a bassist, and Alicia was part of their school’s a cappella group. Their combined musical prowess, combined with a lack of adolescent shame, gave Diana the courage to admit to them her love of drumming.
“I’m tired of singing without instruments,” Alicia enthused. “You two could totally accompany me!”
Fran instantly agreed. “That would be amazing.”
Diana looked between her two friends with butterflies in her stomach. Tentatively, she decided they were the good variety of butterflies. She’d never performed with other people before. But she also hadn’t sought out friends who were musicians – that had been a total coincidence. It felt like fate. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like the opportunity she’d been waiting for her entire life.
Still, she knew enough about melodic instruments that she saw the flaw in their plan. “Do you know how to play guitar, Fran, or just bass?”
Fran grinned. “Just bass, but I happen to have played with a great guitarist my entire life. And I think you guys would love him. My brother, Steven.”
And so, that was the band. Mytyl and the Bluebirds, they called themselves, after Alicia’s favorite play. They played pop songs mashed up with classical music. They played some college parties, some open mics, and in the summer after the girls graduated, they booked a regular spot at a local bar. Diana and Fran going off to nursing school and med school interrupted the rhythm the group had, but they all kept in touch, and some much more than others.
Fran was right. Diana did love Steven, for a while. Almost as much as Fran loved Steven. Diana couldn’t really blame Fran for how she reacted when everything went wrong. Steven was her brother, and he was always careful not to get violent when she was around. Diana supposed she could have told Fran what Steven was doing to her, showed her the bruises and scars. Even then, she wasn’t sure Fran would have believed it. She didn’t find out until Diana filed for divorce that anything at all was wrong, and then she took Steven’s side.
The band falling apart had felt so inconsequential after everything else. But what Diana hadn’t told Rebecca was that she hadn’t played the drums once since their final performance.
And she missed it dearly. How could she not?
Diana took a deep breath, meeting eyes with the giant cardboard bunny watching over the nurses’ station. He was anchored on either side by festive bunting, brighter than the boring old church colors pastels she’d hated as a kid, but still just uncheery enough to set her teeth on edge. She was anxious about baring her soul in front of the mean girls and the gossips, the ones who had put up these very denominational Easter decorations in the ward.
Still, she’d been so nervous about her performance that she hadn’t thought about Steven all day.
Some of the doctors (particularly Doctor Rosen) seemed irritated to have had their work interrupted, but most of them were putting on a happy face for the patients. Keeping an aisle clear through the hallway for emergencies, everyone who was safe to get out of bed had gathered by the nurse’s station, eager for a dose of entertainment that they were usually denied at the hospital. Diana was heartened by the excitement of the crowd, but she noticed one person’s absence. All of the cruelest nurses were in the crowd, snickering with their friends in advance of having anything to snicker about, but Rebecca, the person who had persuaded Diana to do this, was nowhere to be seen.
Diana was disappointed, but she didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. “My name is Nurse Diana LaBelle, and spring is finally in full bloom outside,” she proclaimed to the crowd, omitting the fact that it was also Easter to be more inclusive. “I know we all wish we could see more of the flowers and blossoming trees than we currently are. I know it’s not a replacement, but if you’d all indulge me for a few minutes, I wanted to bring a bit of the season’s beauty inside using the medium I know best: a tambourine solo.”
A wave of murmurs and disbelieving chuckles swept through the crowd. Diana knew what they were thinking; they thought a tambourine was too unsubtle to carry a performance on its own. They didn’t believe it was possible to get any nuance out of some wood, a drum skin and a handful of cymbals. But Diana had been a devoted student of the tambourine since age five. If anyone could get the thing to do what they wanted, it would be her. Through a rattle, a twist, a patter of fingers against the skin, she recreated birdsong and raindrops and the hope and rejuvenation of a cool spring day. She maneuvered the cymbals into controlled decrescendos and thundering clashes of sound that left the entire ward enthralled. Mouths were agape. Tears were shed. And Diana, twirling in her ill-fitting scrubs, crimson hair burning against the Easter pastels on the walls, felt light. As her rhythms in all their vibrant glory faded away, she felt herself fly.
The applause that followed was polite and perfunctory, all things considered. One elderly lady wheeled herself over to Diana to thank her effusively for the performance, but most people in the ward seemed eager to get back to whatever they had previously been doing. Diana took their cue, turning herself over to paperwork but still feeling airy and renewed. This was the missing piece. Of course there were worse parts of what Steven had done to her, but the fact that he had taken music from her was what made her feel like she’d lost herself. She needed it back. Alicia was as busy as she was with her own job and family, but they could make it work. They could find new guitarists. Diana clutched the tambourine to her side even as she worked, feeling as if it were a part of her soul.
When Rebecca approached her with glistening eyes, though, Diana’s hand twitched at the tambourine clattered to the floor.
Rebecca didn’t even pause for pleasantries. “You were right, Diana. Steven showed up again. He was drunker and angrier than I’ve ever seen him.”
A chill ran down Diana’s spine. “When was this?”
“About an hour ago. He was carrying a flask that set off the metal detectors so he couldn’t get far into the building, but security had to call the cops on him to get him to stop loitering and shouting obscenities. They took him away ten minutes ago.”
He had been there, right under her feet, while she’d been putting on the performance of her life. If she’d known, she wouldn’t have been able to drum out even one jingle. And he’d been there for so long! Diana felt sick. “Why wasn’t I told about this earlier?”
“They only just told me,” said Rebecca.
Diana sank into the nearest chair with her face in her hands. If Steven had been arrested, he would be even angrier than usual when he got out. She was afraid to go home. Tears started to fall, and then she felt Rebecca’s strong grip on her forearms.
“For what it’s worth, Diana, I caught the end of your performance. And it might not be worth much, but watching it, I could tell you were strong. You were in control. You were free. The sole thing I want for you is that you feel safe, and that’s clearly not going to happen here.”
“So what?” Diana gasped and choked on her words as she cried. “Are you firing me?”
“Not in the least. I’m suggesting you take a vacation.”
Diana looked up, feeling the snot pooling over her upper lip as her tears turned Rebecca’s face blurry. She could barely notice as Rebecca reached into the pocket of her scrubs. “How the hell is that supposed to help me?”
“I need you to take me seriously, Diana.” Rebecca handed Diana a tissue and, from her pocket, a pamphlet.
Diana was still shaking, and no matter how she tried to wipe her eyes the tears kept coming. But she cleaned herself off as best as she could and opened the pamphlet. “A simulated Mars mission?”
Rebecca nodded. “That’s right. Dcom, it’s called. It doesn’t officially start until December, but training for the medical staff begins earlier. That would be you, if you’re up for it.”
Nine people. Four months. Several states away, in a secure and locked-down facility. “Nobody, not even the most determined person, gets in or out,” as Rebecca put it. The “or out” part was a bit concerning to Diana, but she understood what Rebecca was suggesting. Leaving her entire life behind was a terrifying prospect, even if that life did include Steven. But it was a drastic move, maybe drastic enough to make him forget about her, or at least break the pattern the two of them had gotten themselves into.
She still had a few months to think on it. But Diana already sort of knew where she was leaning. It wouldn’t be the end of the world to get away for a few months.