AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What about?”
“My non-existent career as a musician.” I scrunched a sodden tissue up against my eyes and avoided his gaze.
“Arguing is not good. Talking is better, ya? I wish…” He paused and gave a small shrug. “I have not always done what is best for my children. I made mistakes. I believed independence would strengthen my sons. I did not want them to see Amelia and me argue. So I pushed them out of the way. Kept them at arm’s length. Not always successful. They saw things, those young boys, which they should not have.”
I blinked in amazement at his frank words. “I’ve never heard him blame you.”
He pursed his lips. “He is a good son.” He reached out, as if he intended to touch me. “Your memories of your father keep you…captured? Held back. Would he not be happy with you, whatever you did?”
How did he know? What magical ability did he possess to read my mind? I couldn’t ignore his accurate appraisal. “Yes, I suppose.” I sniffed. “I had this silly dream, when I was younger and full of ambition, to be a professional musician, and that he would be there at my graduation. I would stand in my gown and mortarboard, and we would have that photograph together and he would beam with pride. That picture never came to be.”
“Not because he died,” said Franz.
I started at his bluntness. It reminded me of Stefan’s tendency to speak directly. I clutched my hands together. “Sorry?” I tried to hide a frown behind my tightly pressed lips.
“The picture is in your head. So, it is always there, even when he is not. That is what dreams are and should always be. Stefan will compose something great one day. I know. I might be gone when it happens, but I know it will happen. Your father had that same vision. Only you have let it go.”
His words hurt. I wanted to tell him he was wrong to say such things about my dad. He’d gone too far with his supposition. However, I kept silent, because buried deep, hidden away, I had let myself down, nobody else. It didn’t alter my opinion that Stefan had criticized me and insisted on promoting his authority over me.
The idea of spending an hour or more in the car with Stefan on the way to the airport didn’t thrill me. He would scrutinize my decisions and possibly keep on at me about my lack of ambition. I couldn’t face the prospect of such a torturous journey. I asked Franz to order me a taxi to the train station. I would make my own way to the airport.
He looked surprised by my request. Sitting back, he scratched his chin. “Have I made things worse?”
I shook my head and squeezed his other hand. “No. I have to think and sometimes Stefan can be pretty…intense.”
His father nodded. “Intense, yes. Always the passionate boy. It is what will make him a great composer one day. You are passionate too. I see the same bright eyes. Don’t let him—how to say?—dance around your nose, ya? He is a good teacher, when he lets his students breathe.”
Dance around my nose? Something seemed lost in the translation but I could guess at its meaning—Stefan’s tendency to trample. “I know. He has to hold back, though. He can be overpowering.”
“That is me in him. I am a businessman, ya? He has his mother’s creativity and my, um, power.”
“Dominance,?
?? I muttered under my breath.
He raised an eyebrow, but I didn’t think he had heard me. I looked at my watch. I didn’t have the time to wait for Stefan’s return, to say goodbye. If I was getting there under my own steam, then I had to leave soon. Yet again, for the second time in a week, I was about to walk away from Stefan without apparent explanation. I knew he wasn’t going to like it.
* * * *
The journey home seemed easier in reverse. I coped at the ticket office at Wolfratshausen train station, something to be repeated in Munich once I arrived. On the train, I watched the changing landscape and pondered my decision to leave. I’d switched off my mobile the moment I sat in the back of the taxi. If Stefan wanted to communicate with me, he’d have to wait until I was back in England. I couldn’t deal with him, not until I’d thought things through.
The train journey was the start of my musings, and they naturally dwelled on my father. Franz’s insights had been painfully accurate, provoking me into facing truths I’d chosen to ignore. The window seat afforded me a good view and it included my own reflection—a faint mirror image of my head resting on the seat. Dad had often sat in a chair, head reclined and eyes shut, listening to me play my clarinet. At the end of my mini recital, he’d applauded, then magically woven gentle criticisms among his compliments. I’d come away with both praise and aspects he had believed I could improve upon.
Those cherished moments had helped me with my exams. I’d been awarded an A grade for my GSCE examination in music at sixteen. All had boded well for the next batch of exams and my entry into music college, then my father had vacated the seat in the living room and I’d no more armchair critic to advise and encourage me. I’d struggled through my A level, passing with a mediocre B grade, procrastinated about applying to college and instead had applied to work at the florist. Mum, too embroiled in her own grief, hadn’t attempted to fill my father’s shoes and had left me to my morose apathy.
Franz’s comments had triggered a wave of guilt. I brushed my thoughts of Stefan and his opinions aside and focused on me, three years ago, failing to live out my father’s ambition. No, never his. It was our ambition, and we shared it jointly. I had to acknowledge the truth. I’d given up. Abandoned it all because without Dad I couldn’t face doing it alone or, worse, failing to meet the grades and gaining no qualifications. My love of performing concerts had been vanquished by my lack of courage. Yet, I’d not stopped playing Nettie. I’d found new pieces to play, to replace those that reminded me of Dad, with the exception of the Mozart, which I clung to, as it was too beautiful to ignore.
I’d planned to use that piece in my recital for my college application. I banged my head against the glass, angry with myself and how much time I’d wasted.
It wasn’t too late, was it? A long time ago, I’d planted a seed in my mind and let my father nurture it. Left unattended, it had withered and nearly died. However, the roots remained, and for the first time in over three years, I wanted that seed to sprout and regrow. I didn’t need Stefan to tell me what was best for me. I could do this on my own.
The train entered Munich, passing through the suburbs and on to the city center. People about me prepared to disembark, and I readied myself for the next stage of my journey—reaching the airport and checking in for my flight.
* * * *
“Callie!”
I froze in disbelief. He’d found me, chased after me and probably driven like a madman, accumulating speeding tickets along the way.
