Page 48 of If I Were Yours

Leaning my head back, I gaze up at him. “Is it Indian food?”

Grigory’s natural frown deepens. “Don’t you like Indian?”

“I love Indian,” I say with more emotion than the small matter should call for. Indian is my favorite cuisine, but I rarely get it since Markus doesn’t care for it. I cooked all my favorite Indian dishes for him during the summer, but even though he tried to hide it, I could always tell he didn’t care much for it.

Pulling out a chair for me at the table, Grigory says, “Then let’s get some food in you.”

I take the offered seat and let my eyes roam over the feast on the table.

Grigory hasn’t just brought Indian; he’s brought enough to feed four grown men—three different sauces, naan, rice, and samosas. Even mango lassi.

“How many men did you say would join us for dinner?” I say, gawking at the spread in front of me.

He huffs. “No men. I wanted to make sure there’s something you like.”

“You sure hit the jackpot, then.” My mouth waters as my eyes jump back and forth between the dishes.

“Go ahead. Dig in.”

Wasting no time, I do just that, and as I swamp my senses with the spicy food, I forget all about the mysterious news.

I’m still eating when Grigory sets his empty plate in the sink and disappears into the hall. He returns a minute later with a stack of books and brochures that he sets down beside my plate.

“What’s all this?” I scoop a forkful of chicken masala into my mouth and pick up the top brochure.Hochschule für Musik,it says.

I frown.Isn’t that the Conservatory in Berlin?

My suspicion is confirmed when I see the folded papers beneath it. It’s a list of the requirements for the piano audition.

I realize I’ve stopped chewing as I turn my head to Grigory. He’s watching me with something akin to curiosity. I quickly swallow and implore, “Please say something.”

“You’re applying to the conservatory in Berlin. The auditions are at the end of January, so you have almost four months to prepare.”

It’s a good thing I didn’t scoop another forkful into my mouth because my jaw drops. Shaking my head, I stare at him like an idiot.Is he for real?

When he doesn’t offer further explanation, I say, “I can’t. I have my studies here…” My tongue struggles to find more words, and I end up blurting, “I don’t have what it takes.”

Grigory moves to stand behind me, resting his heavy hands on my shoulders. “Clara, you’re too good to waste your talent. I want you to aim for the grand concert stage.”

I can’t believe what he’s saying—not the part about wanting me to apply to the conservatory, let alone the part about the concert stage.

“We have to work intensively on your technique,” he continues. “But you’ve already come a long way since I started teaching you, and I’m confident you’ll get to the required level on time.”

A slow panic creeps under my skin. “Four months is nothing. I can barely learn a new piece in that time. It’s too soon. I can’t do it.”

Grigory sinks to his haunches at my side. “Devochka, look at me.”

I meet his eyes. They’re calm like a lake on a warm summer day—so unlike the stormy waves of chaos he has stirred within me.

“I’ve seen what you can accomplish,” he says. “When you learned that Rachmaninoff prelude a couple months ago...” He takes a deep breath, looking astounded for a moment as he studies me. “Clara, it takes tremendous skill to play that piece with such fury, and you did it all without my help.”

I stare at him with blank eyes. The prelude had been a small protest. An outlet for my anger. I had worked hard on it and was so proud when I managed to play it for him after only a week’s practice. It was like a slam to the gut when he didn’t react.

Grigory slants his chin down and shakes his head before returning his eyes to me. “I knew the fury was directed at me, and I was so mad—at myself for giving you cause to play like that, and at you for impressing me when I didn’t want to be impressed.”

His honesty robs me of my breath. I knew he was impressed—he’d said it indirectly later on—but to hear him say it like this… My lips part to form a response, but I can’t find the words.

“If you impress the censors like you did me, you stand a very good chance of getting in.”

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