20. Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Ginny
Open house always feels like it lasts forever. No dinner, thirteen hour day, cranky kids, parents, and teachers. It’s just a ball of fun to have to stay ‘on’ that long. I just want to curl up on a couch with my bra off, damnit. At least the snide comments have slowed down. Most of them, anyway.
The honest truth is, I’m just cranky. Joker’s been out of town for work all weekend and I miss him. Does that make me pathetic? I should have gone to see my friends, but I stayed in. I wore my softest, oldest sweats, had my coffee, and read for two days. If there’s anyone who could understand that, it’s Trish. She gives me a pass every couple of months to binge read. It’s good for the soul, you know?
I still haven’t heard from Joker today, and it’s putting me in a bad mood. I’m trying not to let it show, but Linda pointed out my resting bitch face was on point tonight when she dropped off a snack. I blamed it on being tired, but I think even she knows it’s more than that.
“Ms. Mills,” Aubrey, one of my cello students, comes into the room. “Mom and Dad are over in Ms. K’s room. Can I practice until they make their way down here?”
“Sure. What are we working on this week?”
I love Aubrey. She’s got some real talent, and I love playing with her. She reminds me a little of me when I was her age, and she asks me to tell her stories of when I toured with the orchestra.
“Will you play the Vivaldi with me?” she asks hopefully.
“Is it ‘The Double Concerto for Two Cellos’?” I smile.
It’s a challenging piece, one that I love.
“That’s the one.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want to do the Brahams you’ve been working on?”
“I want to hear you play, too.” She’s shy when she says this, and while I usually accompany them on the piano, I have that warm feeling when they ask me to play my first love with them.
There are three Morano cellos that I purchased out of my own pocket that stay in the room at all times for the students to play, but I know Aubrey’s parents recently purchased an Eastman for her. I personally own five, all different brands and types, but I keep my own Eastman cello in the classroom for my own use.
We set up and after tuning our strings, I count us off and close my eyes to feel the music. I don’t want to show up Aubrey, and she is quite a good musician on her own, but as I get lost in the music, I also get lost in myself. I feel whole when I’m playing, like the rest of the world and the problems in it are gone. It’s just the music, the feel of the instrument between my legs, and me.
When we’re finished, all the tension in my body is gone. I open my eyes and find Aubrey staring at me, a look of awe on her face. Her parents are in the doorway, her mom with tears in her eyes.
“I got lost again, didn’t I?” I ask, embarrassed.
“I remember my mom telling me about you.” Aubrey’s mom smiles. “She said there was a girl from our town that could render anyone speechless with her music. She used to go watch you play when you would perform around here, but I didn’t understand what she was talking about until just now. Ms. Mills, that was absolutely beautiful. Thank you.”
My heart wants to explode out of my chest, and I try to hold back my own tears. I push my hair that has fallen out of its bun off my face and smile at her. “Thank you for saying that. I don’t get to play as much as I used to anymore. And Aubrey here,” I smile at the girl, “just reminded me exactly how much I love it.”
“Can we play it again?” Aubrey asks. “Or something else? I’ll play anything you want.”
“Sweetie,” her dad says, “I know you’d stay here playing all night if you could, but I bet Ms. Mills wants to get out of here. It’s probably been a long day for her.”
I grin at him. “You know, I’m not supposed to have favorite parents, but you’re on the list. And Aubrey, anytime you want to play, you know where to find me.”
“I would love to hear you on the Strat you own.”
“How do you know I own a Strat?”
“I found your old videos on YouTube and watched them. You gave an interview on your last tour about finally being able to get one. You still own it, right?”
“I’m going to be buried with that thing,” I promise her. “It’s the first thing I unpack anywhere I am. I’d love to show it to you.”
“Oh, that would be great. Not going to lie, I’d love to see it, too,” her mom gushes.
“Sure. We can set up a day one weekend. Bring your Eastman and we can put on a show for both our parents.” I lean in so only she can hear. “My mom would love it.”
Aubrey laughs, but it’s cut off when a voice from the hallway rings out. A voice I could go the rest of my life without hearing again, but also know I’m stuck with.
“Ms. Mills. I don’t know what kind of school you think we’re running here, but it’s completely unprofessional to invite students into your home.”
I stiffen in my chair, my hand choking the neck of the cello I’m still holding.
“Oh, Mr. Brown, we didn’t mean—”
“It doesn’t matter what you meant. It’s completely unacceptable for a teacher in our school to invite students to their private homes,” he cuts off Aubrey’s mom.
“Now, Mr. Brown, I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“I’m implying that we don’t condone the type of behavior being shown by our little music teacher ,” he cuts off Aubrey’s dad while practically spitting out the words ‘music teacher’ like they taste bad.
I sit in my chair, watching Aubrey’s parents defend me to the man who was supposed to have my back and support me. A man who is currently making a case that I’m doing inappropriate things with students.
“Mr. Brown,” I state, standing and placing my cello in its holder before turning to him. “I know what you’re trying to do, and I find it very unprofessional of you to spew baseless statements about my character in front of a student and their parents.”
He stares at me, his eyes blinking rapidly, like he can’t believe I just talked back to him, and I realize it’s something I’ve never done before. I let this man walk all over me for two years, and I don’t have to do that anymore. I stand even straighter and make eye contact with him, not backing down.
“This isn’t over.” He glares at me before leaving the room.
“That’s the man you were supposed to marry?” Aubrey asks, a grimace on her face probably rivaling my own.
“Can I give you some advice?” I ask her, looking over at her mom, who also looks sick to her stomach. “Never let a man beat you down with his hands or his words. If he can’t support you and help you stand tall one hundred percent of the time, he’s not the man for you. Don’t be like me. Don’t put up with it because you’re afraid to be alone. Be stronger than I was, okay?”
“I will,” she quietly replies.
“Thank you,” her mom mouths, her hand over her heart.
“If that man gives you any trouble, you let me know,” her dad says, a snarl on his lips. “Something about that guy I don’t like.”
“You, too, huh?” I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. “And thank you. Also, you’re invited to the impromptu concert. We aren’t going to let him ruin all our fun.”
Aubrey stays to help me put away the things she dragged out, and her mom gives me a hug before they leave. I check my phone and realize everyone in the building has probably left for the night. We were only supposed to be here until eight, and it’s already eight-thirty. I check my phone, and still no calls from Joker. I hope he’s alright.
I look around the room and stick my head out in the hallway. All the other doors are closed and the lights are off. I’m alone. I sit back in the chair I use when I play and remove my cello from its stand. Placing it between my legs, I pick up the bow and run it across the strings. The sound rings out into the room, and I begin to play. A haunting melody that I wrote after the attack. All of my anguish and fear can be heard in the notes as my fingers fly across the strings.
When the song is over, I have tears running down my face and I’m breathing hard, like I’ve run a marathon. My eyes snap open when I hear the slow clap from the door.
“You might suck at most things in your life, but you can play. I’ll give you that.”
“Keith. What do you want?”
“I thought we should have a chat.”
“I don’t think we have anything to chat about.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, bitch. I have a lot of things to say to you, and I think you should listen if you know what’s good for you.”
I slowly stand, placing my instrument in its stand and putting the bow down. I finally straighten up to my full height of five-nine, five-ten in the shoes I have on, putting me two inches shorter than him. He looks me up and down, making my skin crawl.
“A dress, hmm?” He sneers at me. “You’re trying too hard. Anyone who looks at you knows you aren’t worth looking at.”
I purse my lips, trying to decide if his words hurt me. Nope, not feeling a thing.
“You pick on people’s physical appearance because it makes you feel better about your tiny pee-pee, don’t you?” I ask, serenely looking back at him.
“Fucking bitch. You think because you got some new dick in your life you’re better than me? You’re fucking nothing without me.”
“Are you projecting?”
“Fuck you! I’ve had more pussy than you could imagine since you ruined your life by walking away from me. And every fucking one of them knows how much better they are in the sack than you ever dreamed of being.”
“Yet, when you close your eyes, it’s my pussy you want, isn’t it, Keith?”
And it’s this moment I realize that’s too far for his fragile ego.
“You fucking cunt! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you before I ever let you say those words to me! Do you hear me? I’ll fucking kill you!”
He charges across the room, and I prepare for the pain I’m sure is about to come. But it doesn’t.