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“Why did Lucien want you to bring it, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought you’d want to listen to me play. He said you probably won’t hear me from downstairs, but I’ll be practicing every day…”
“Probablywon’t hear you?” Noah snapped. “I can heareverything. You’ll be practicing every day? Are you good? Or am I going to be treated to the sounds of cat torture and nails on a chalkboard?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been playing since I was five years old and graduated Juilliard last year. At the very least, I don’t suck.”
“What are you practicing for? An audition for some big orchestra? Sort of defeats the purpose of working here, doesn’t it?”
“No, no, there’s no audition. I have to practice to keep my skills sharp.”
Noah narrowed his eyes that were staring just to my left. “Okay, go.”
I blinked. “Go?”
“Play something.”
“Oh. I don’t play much in front of people.”
He cocked his head. “You blew $40K a year on a school that teaches you how to play in front of people and you don’t play in front of people?”
“I do, sometimes.”
“Now is sometime. Let’s hear it.”
“Really?”
“I asked, didn’t I?”
“Sounded more like a demand, but okay.” I sat back down. “Any requests?”
“Surprise me.”
I opened the case, took out my violin, and set my chin to the rest. A hundred different pieces floated around in my head. I set the bow to the strings, thinking I’d try Paganini’s 24thCaprice. It was insanely hard, and while I wasn’t a show-off by nature, I sort of wanted to see the smug, dubious expression slide off Noah’s face.
Instead, out of nowhere, the adagio to Mozart’s Concerto No. 5 came pouring out of my violin.
I played, the notes swirling and filling the living area, like honey infused with fire. I was merely a vessel, watching my fingers vibrate and the bow glide up and down the strings. This sort of sublime experience hadn’t happened to me since the audition for Spring Strings. I thought it was lost forever but here, now…
Before the melody could change to a faster, fiery tempo, I ended off, letting the last note hang gently in the air before I let it go. My heart raced and I stared at the bow, surprised it wasmyhand that held it.
I looked at Noah. He was sitting back, stunned.
“Why did you stop?” he asked, only a shadow of his ever-present bitterness lingering in his voice.
I stammered for a moment, unable to answer, and then returned my instrument back to its case. “I’m going now. I have to go.”
“Charlotte?”
I spun around. “What?”
“You should play for people more often.”
I had nothing to say to that either. I felt strangely exposed, betrayed by the music that just poured out of me for the first time in almost a year. I zipped up my jacket.
Noah turned his head toward the windows that overlooked the street. “Is it raining out? I don’t hear rain.”
“Uh, no. It’s not.”
