Chapter Text
August 2011
The first time they meet is on a warm, breezy summer day. Lydia had arrived in Berlin only two weeks ago, but she’d been settling down until now. She’d quickly found an apartment she really liked, it wasn’t very big but compared to her old one back in New York it felt huge. She never needed much space anyway, as long as she’d have enough room to work and let out her creativity.
She is now following Andris around the corridors of the Berlin Philharmonic, observing and taking in every single detail of the building. She finds the first time walking through a new concert hall intoxicating, the way she’s hypnotized by the atmosphere and the air that’s filling up the lounges drives her crazy. She knows Andris is talking to her, but she can barely process his words, feeling a bit lost in all the possibilities she sees hovering in her brain right now. New beginnings are hard for most people, for her, they’re just pure thrill. She’s only pulled out from her own thoughts when a woman approaches them.
“Oh, Sharon. So glad you’re here. Let me introduce you to-” Andris says, but Lydia interrupts him.
“Hello.” The grin on her lips is soft, but inciting. She leans to offer her hand to the woman in front of her. “Tár. Lydia Tár.”
“Sharon Goodnow.” She has a thick accent. Lydia knows most Germans do, she’d lived in Vienna for years when she got her Ph.D. in Musicology, so naturally she had met lots of german-speakers. But she finds her accent different somehow, not knowing yet that it’ll be the accent that she’ll have tattooed in her brain for the next several years. Sharon takes her hand and shakes it firmly, right before curling her lips into a wide smile. Lydia’s eyes drop almost instantly to her mouth, admiring her white teeth popping out, almost with no shame. When Sharon realizes, she continues speaking. “So, I’ve heard you are our new guest conductor.”
“I am.” Both women seem to have forgotten Andris is still right there, observing their interaction in silence. It doesn’t feel weird, though, the electricity both of them emanate is enough to make anyone else seem invisible.
“I am the first chair violinist.” This time it’s Lydia who can’t contain her smile, kind of dreaming of all the possibilities.
“Oh, the concertmaster. Seems like we’re gonna be working closely together then.” She doesn’t need to turn around, she can already hear Andris’ thoughts out loud on the back of her head. She doesn’t give a single fuck about it. In fact, she wants him gone. “Andris, could you please go and get that book you were telling me about before?”
“Of course.” He doesn’t even hesitate to leave, ignoring Lydia’s cheap excuse. In the end, being her mentor entails sharing certain values and opinions.
Sharon is still looking at her with wide open and curious eyes, wondering how the woman standing in front of her can carry such an astonishing masculine aura, which feels like it’s breaking through her pores and intoxicating her. Sharon is an observer. She loves to observe, it’s what she’s been doing her whole life. At eight years old, hiding in the kitchen counters when her deadbeat dad would release all of his rage on her mom and sister, at thirteen when all the girls in her class started to wear makeup and tried to get the boys’ attention, at eighteen when she heard her mom talking to her aunt about how she “was lucky to be beautiful, because that’s not the same as having substance”, or at twenty-seven when she realized looking at her husband in the middle of the night, that she married the wrong person. But with Tár it seems more difficult, and Sharon’s eyes feel drawn to hers like moths to the light. Will she burn herself if she gets too close? She asks, then. “So, how long have you been in Berlin?”
“Uhm, I think it’s about to be two weeks soon. I haven’t gotten the chance to see much yet. I’ve enjoyed some things though, there’s a jazz bar a few blocks away from my apartment with live music and good drinks. I’ll be there tonight, you should join me, huh?” Lydia’s eyes not moving away from Sharon’s mouth are making her feel conflicted. Should she be flattered or self-conscious about it? However, she’s intuitive enough to read Tár’s game. And she might be joining it.
“I have a dinner date tonight with some friends. But I might stop by, later on.” Sharon says before leaving. She doesn’t even say goodbye, simply starts walking through the corridor in the direction of the lounge where she’s meeting with Sebastian. She doesn’t give Lydia time to respond, or turns around either. But she knows she’s looking at her. She can feel her blue eyes fixated on her as her figure just disappears through one of the doors.
When Lydia orders her second glass of scotch, the music gets a bit louder. The trumpet solo is aggressively expanding through the room in a way that pleases her so much, it literally sends shivers through her spine and electrifies her neck. She’s enjoying herself. She’s enjoying the scotch the waiter just brought her, she’s enjoying the music and overall, she’s enjoying Berlin.
A captivating floral gourmand scent, twisted with dark, roasted notes of black coffee, embraces her as Sharon takes the seat next to hers, and when she turns around to watch her, she catches a glimpse of her bare legs crossing on top of each other. Her gaze fixates on her knees, they’re pointy, like her elbows, and she thinks Sharon could probably slit someone’s throat with them. Oh yes, she could. As soon as her head starts traveling up across her body, she notices the way the fabric of her dress is tightly sitting on her skin, wondering what it would be like to hold the soft curve formed in between her hips and her breasts. When she finally reaches her face, she finds her smile again and she swears to herself, irritated at the way she’s so drawn to her teeth.
“You came.” She says, already lifting up her hand to call the waiter’s attention. “She’ll have a-
“A white Martini with two olives. Thank you.” Sharon interrupts and that only irritates Lydia more, since usually she’s the one doing it. “Yes, the dinner was quite boring so I thought I’d join you to get to know you better.”
She feels a rush of adrenaline when Lydia’s eyes darken up. There wasn’t any dinner with friends, but she’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing that she got all dressed up so she would look at her the same way she did that morning. She’s an observer, but she also loves to be watched sometimes. Sharon takes a sip of her drink as they start talking about Lydia, how she has been a conductor of the “Big Five” American orchestras, why she decided to come to Berlin, why she considers herself to be a New Yorker even if she wasn’t raised there, and how it felt to grow up in a house with deaf parents. She opens up like a hidden gem, and Sharon just observes and listens, as if she’d be walking the path to somewhere secret. Lydia is releasing her grievances like handfuls of birdseeds: they are there, and they are gone. I will find you, Lydia. Sharon thinks to herself. Lovesick words, hateful intentions.
Tár realizes she’s been speaking for too long and quickly changes the topic. “You’re not much of a talker, are you?”
Her observation makes Sharon laugh softly. Lydia feels a tingle in her stomach at the sound. “People love talking, and I have never been a huge talker. I carry on an inner monologue, but the words don’t often reach my lips.”
In a way, Lydia feels a hint of comfort in Sharon. No one has ever listened to her the way Sharon is doing it, it’s not like she’s ever been a very outgoing and chatty person, but she’s had some friends who not even over the course of the years were able to give her the warmth the violinist is giving her tonight. Lydia then sees the ring sitting on Sharon’s hand, and licks her dry lips.
“Your husband is a lucky man. I can’t tolerate people who don’t stop talking, even when they have nothing to say.”
It takes Sharon a moment to realize why Lydia would say something like that. She smiles again, this time looking at her ring. She spins it around her finger, distracted, while she shakes her head. “I’m not married. Not anymore. I just kept the ring on, it suits me.”
“Oh.” There’s a trace of satisfaction in Lydia’s reaction, and Sharon can sense it. “Are you married?” The German asks, locking eyes with Tár.
“I’m not. I’ve never had anything past a few months in my life, I easily get bored, or restless. The good traits I have I got from my dad. I can joke, I can laugh, I can tease, I can celebrate and support and praise. I can operate in sunlight, basically, but I can’t deal with angry or tearful women. I just don’t have it in me. And I won’t settle for that like he did, it would only be a mistake. I will only commit to my work, to the art.” Lydia explains, holding her glass to take a sip from it but before she can do it, Sharon raises hers. “To the art.”
They toast and drink, eyes locked into each other’s as if that would settle a promise between them, to commit to each other, to the art, to create together, to ignite the flame that has lit up between them. They both know how large their fire would be and they don’t seem to mind it, it only pleases them.
“So, you’re a lesbian.” Sharon points out, leaving her glass on the table.
It makes Lydia laugh. “Well, honey, isn’t it obvious?”
“I didn’t want to make assumptions based on stereotypes.”
“You shouldn’t make them because of the way I dress, but based on the way I am looking at you right now.” Lydia’s statement leaves Sharon completely unfazed. She simply looks at her in silence, and it takes a few seconds until the blonde smiles. She can feel Lydia’s eyes again on her mouth, but this time she finds the courage to ask.
“Do you like what you’re seeing?”
The question doesn’t catch Lydia off guard. “I find your teeth very attractive. I don’t know why, but they do something to me. Do you mind it when I stare?” She asks in a polite way, but Sharon knows Lydia actually doesn’t give a fuck about what her answer will be, she’s going to stare anyway. Lydia doesn’t seem like the kind of person who lets anyone else be her boss. In fact, she looks like the boss. She’s wearing gray suit pants, combined with a very expensive white shirt and a gray wool vest on top. Her hair is loose, falling into her face a bit. Her body language is strong, she takes up the whole chair like she’s the owner of the bar where they’re sitting down. Her legs are spread and one of her arms hangs from the armrest. It’s surprisingly attractive. She is attractive, her masculine energy keeps captivating Sharon. And she has what the Victorians would call a finely shaped head. Sharon can imagine removing her skull easily, in fact, she thinks she could recognize her head anywhere. But what's inside of it not so much, yet. The mind of her. Her brain, all those coils and her thoughts, shuttling around like fast frantic snakes. Like a child, Sharon pictures herself opening Lydia's skull, untangling her neuronal connections and spreading them out on a table, trying to catch and study her thoughts. What are you thinking, Lydia?
“No, I don’t mind it.” She finally replies. “Why Berlin? What are you seeking for here? What’s your biggest dream?”
“I feel like I’ve been the one answering all the questions tonight.” Lydia complains. “I deserve some feedback.”
Sharon’s expression doesn’t change. “I will make up for it.” And the challenge in that promise is enough to make Lydia speak again.
“I’d like to record all the Mahler symphonies at one point with my own orchestra.”
Sharon gasps loudly and raises her eyebrows at her confession. “That’s ambitious, Tár.”
“I am ambitious. And I’m gonna take you home now, it’s late.” She says, leaving a few bills on the table and getting up from it.
Lydia’s driving is fast and reckless, and Sharon finds herself fascinated by it. The way her long slim fingers hold the wheel while the other hand rests on her own thigh has to be the most attractive thing Sharon has seen her do tonight. She realizes how she carefully checks the mirrors every time she surpasses the speed limit, and wonders if she’d be this skilled at other tasks. The thought of Lydia’s fingers thrusting into her in the back of the car while she whispers nasty things in her ear, quickly crosses her mind. But she gets rid of that thought just as fast as it came. The fact that Sharon had been raised in the system that she had to grow up in, with a fucked up family and in a small town in Germany, it has kept her from experiencing any adventure or recklessness in her life as an adult. She’s always had the feeling she’s surrounded herself with boring, regular, and plain people. And just a couple hours with her already made her realize, Tár is different from everyone else she has met in her life.
Sharon’s body language screams for her. Lydia thinks she could pull up right now, fuck the shit out of the woman who’s sitting next to her and drive her home then like nothing happened. In fact, that’s what she would have probably done with anyone else. Not Sharon, though. She’s not “anyone else”, she’s been challenging her since they met each other a few hours ago. What does she want from her? What is she expecting? Lydia is thrilled by the chase, and she already knows she’d follow that woman until the ends of the Earth. In fact, she will, or at least until she belongs to her. The thought of owning Sharon in as many ways as possible turns Lydia on uncontrollably.
When the navigation system indicates that they’ve arrived at their destination, she parks her car in front of Sharon’s apartment. Before the blonde can leave the car, Lydia has gotten out of it and is opening the door for her. “Ladies first.” She says, offering a hand to help her out. Sharon takes it and squeezes her fingers while she gracefully gets up from the seat, readjusting her dress and making sure everything is in its own place. She doesn’t even say anything while she’s walking towards the entrance of the building, and the silence is killing Lydia. Usually she’s grateful for it, but coming from this woman it gives her an uneasy feeling. Her lips part, ready to break it, but then Sharon turns around to her, blonde curly locks softly flying with Berlin’s warm night breeze. Lydia gulps, very much aware of Sharon’s game and ready to start playing too. At the end of the day, both of them are the biggest players, they just have very different toys to do so. Nonetheless, only one of them can win the game. And Lydia is sure she won’t lose, she never does.
“Goodnight, Lydia. It has been a lovely evening.” Sharon says, looking at her while she retrieves the keys from her purse.
“My pleasure. Goodnight, Sharon.”
When the woman’s body disappears through the shadows, Lydia remains leaned on the side of her car, still staring at her door like she’s been bewitched.
In fact, she has been.
Bewitched by Sharon Goodnow.