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“Just one date. And don’t take him back to your apartment,” Joy said like somehow she was in charge of the compromise. She reached across the table and touched my hand. “I love you, and I want to see you happy.”
I wanted to argue with her that part of the problem was people like her believing that it took being in a relationship to be happy. It was something I grew up thinking, and it was why leaving Nicolai had been so terrifying for so long.
After all, what good was one half of a whole if the point of living was finding your soulmate?
And what was one half of a whole if that half was battered and bruised and all used up?
“One dinner,” I relented, hating myself a little bit.
Joy’s eyes brightened. “I’ll send him your number right now.”
Not able to watch that, I stood up. “I have to run. I have a lesson coming up.”
Her hands stilled. “There’s one other thing.” She reached down and pulled her bag up onto the table, digging around like it was one of those magical, endless Mary Poppins sacks. After a beat, she pulled out a flyer and slid it toward me. It was folded in half, but I saw some of the print bleeding through. “I saw auditions for the symphony. My boss is a benefactor, and he passes these around when there are openings. Auditions are open to the public, but you know the nepotism in that industry.”
My stomach twisted. “Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound bitter. “I do.” I didn’t have the energy to argue with her, so I took the flyer, folded it a second time, then slipped it into my coat pocket.
“Promise me you’ll think about it,” she said as though she could read my intention to throw the damn thing away as soon as she was out of sight. “Teaching is paying the bills, but you were made for more than that, Jules. You can’t let him take everything from you.”
Those words were too heavy for me right then, so I just nodded, grabbed my coat from the back of the chair, and headed into the slushy streets.
* * *
I didn’t havetime to think about how quiet the apartment was when I got home. The second I stepped through the door, I had just enough time to hang up my wet coat, reorder my hair, and start the kettle boiling for coffee before the buzzer sounded.
Luckily, my afternoon lesson was Chloe—a little girl on a scholarship with parents who only spoke a handful of words in English. Her parents ran a little laundromat not too far from my apartment building, and her mother’s careful, cautious smile made me wish I’d chosen Spanish as my language in school.
It was one of the least miserable lessons I had during the week. Chloe didn’t have a lot of natural talent, but she was determined and passionate, and that would eventually set her apart from her peers who learned this stuff more out of cultural habit than a love for the craft.
I set her mom up with coffee and a few of the increasingly stale cookies from my pantry, which I was trying to ration since Raymond hadn’t been by with another grocery delivery, and I was trying not to indulge too much with the little bit of cash I’d squirreled away. She seemed perfectly happy though, and smiled as I got Chloe set up and we began to run through “Canon in D.”
There was a point in my life where I swore if I had to listen to that piece one more time, I’d take a hot poker to one of my ears, but watching her struggle and smile with triumph as she managed to get through the very first page without any major mistakes was enough to change my mind. I heard it with new ears when I sat with her. A piece I could play dead drunk and mostly asleep, that held no power for me, now became her Everest.
“That was amazing,” I told her when she set her viola down. I thought about the flyer in my coat pocket and how Joy’s boss was a benefactor for the symphony. I didn’t want to make an offer if I couldn’t follow through, but I also wanted to see the look on Chloe’s face when she got to sit through her first real, professional concert. “Can you ask your mother something for me?”
Chloe nodded, then motioned for her mom to come over. “Go ahead.”
I swiped my hands on my trousers. “I don’t know if it’s possible, but would you like a night at the symphony if I can get tickets?”
Chloe struggled to find the right words, but I saw when she did because her mother quickly shook her head, and Chloe attempted to keep up with interpreting the rapid Spanish. “She…she’s…she says no. Mami!”
“No!”
I held up my hands. “It would be good for her to hear it. And it won’t cost anything. My sister’s boss has tickets.”
“She’s worried about the people,” Chloe said quietly.
I could understand that entirely, but there were options for that too. “Mezzanine,” I told her, and I held my hand up high. “The seats far above the stage. You won’t be with the main crowd, and you’ll be able to hear everything. You can see the whole stage.”
Chloe was speaking, but I could see she wasn’t really listening to my words. She was trying to picture it. “Please, Mami.” She tugged on her mother’s arm, giving her big doe eyes, and I saw the moment the poor woman started to crack.
“Ai, mija.”
Chloe let out a little squeal and turned around. “She always makes that noise when she’s going to say yes. When can we go? Is it soon? Do you know anyone who’s going to play?”
My heart ached, and I dropped back down into my chair, gesturing for Chloe to do the same. “I can’t make promises that I can get tickets, but I’m going to do my best, okay? I played in London, so it’s doubtful anyone I know will be there, but I promise you, they’re all amazing.”
“Will you be playing?” she asked.
