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Fuck it all to hell.
She’s a wonderful woman. She’s not trying to get me to talk, which I appreciate. Though I suppose I should speak up at some point.
She squirts some ketchup on top of her burger and takes a bite of it.
She’s so beautiful. Even chewing her food, she’s so fucking beautiful.
Her hair is in a ponytail. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her wear a ponytail. It’s a high ponytail and makes her look young. Like she’s back in high school, walking on the homecoming court.
Finally, she speaks.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Brock, and you don’t have to tell me. But I’ve been thinking… About that recital you scheduled for me.”
There’s a chill back to reality. I totally forgot about that.
“I appreciate it, but I just don’t think I can get a program ready in less than two weeks.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“Can you get your money back? On the cinema?”
“Probably. But instead of getting it back, why don’t we just push it back a few weeks? Make it a Christmas recital.”
She swallows the bite of burger she just took. “Brock…”
“For God’s sake, Rory, would you please just let me do this for you? It’s the only thing good I’ve got going in my life right now.”
Her lips turn down to a frown.
Fuck. I just insulted her.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I meanyou. You’re in my life, and you’re good.”
She wipes her lips with her napkin, takes a sip of her water. “Nice save.”
“Rory…”
She takes another bite of hamburger, chews, swallows. “Sure. I get what you mean.”
Except she doesn’t. Shesodoesn’t get what I mean. She’s everything to me. Every fucking thing. And even though I forgot about that damned recital, when she brought it up, something inside me ignited. I want to do this for her. Ineedto do this for her. But she’s right. Neither of us has the time to put it together in two weeks. There’s just too much else going on.
Will pushing it back two or three weeks make a difference? I have no idea. The Steel family is kind of going down the toilet right now. I feel like we all have metaphorical toilet swirlies.
“Jesse… Jesse asked me to go on tour with the band,” she says.
“When?”
“Next weekend. Or the weekend after. I can’t remember. First I told him no, but now I’m thinking about it.”
“Why? Why would you think about it when you can prepare your own performance?”
She twists her lips a little, takes another sip of water. “I just thought it might be good to get away.”
“What about your students?”
“My students will be fine. It’s only for a long weekend, and it’s not the first time I’ve had to cancel lessons. They’ll continue their practice while I’m gone, and then we’ll continue our lessons when I return.”
“Okay, then. What about…”
