Chapter 9 – Hadley To the Rescue
Ever have one of those days where you are ready to give up on everything you’ve ever worked hard for and dreamed of? “Just give me a break!” I shout to no one in particular when I walk through my apartment door, then slam it shut behind me.
Piano teacher pissed off with me, check.
Colton pissed off with me, check.
I know I am challenging work, short tempered, and a little unpredictable. I blame Hadley, my older sister, I got it from her, and she blames it on our mum. Circle of life. It’s just who I am. I feel bad after it, but in the heat of the moment, it’s like I have zero control over my emotions, and they get the better of me.
I should apologize to Colton, but at the same time, he put me in the friend zone. I got vibes from him that it was more than just friends. That kiss we shared felt like more than just friends to me. Who am I kidding, I met the bloke twenty-four hours ago. This is what Mr. D was talking about; I need to wake up and focus on my dreams. Not some guy.
Hadley. I need to talk to her. If anyone can get me out of this funk, it’s her.
Pulling out my phone, I hit speed dial three for Hadley—Mum and Dad are speed dials one and two—and click call. It rings twice before I hear her comforting voice. “Helllllllllooooo,” she screeches down the receiver.
“Hey.”
“Oh, that’s not a cheery opening. What’s up, Tinkerbell?” I smile at her nickname for me. When we were kids, one year for a fancy dress party, Hadley and I had a huge argument. I wanted to go as Tinkerbell, but I wanted Hadley to be Wendy from Peter Pan, and she wanted to go as Tigger and me as Piglet from Winnie the Pooh. We had a screaming match for ages until it turned into hair pulling and shouting for dad. Dad came barreling into our bedroom, then a look of horror took over his face. I was on top of Hadley pulling her hair while she kicked and hit me with a shoe she had in her hand. He shook his head before pulling us apart and saying, “You are Tinkerbell, and you are Tigger, end of fight club.” Dad’s word was always final, and that was the end of that.
“Do you want the short or long version?” I ask.
“Shouldn’t even be a question, give me the long and detailed story.”
Launching into my drama over the last twenty-four hours, I tell her every detail as requested. “Okay, so what do you think?”
“I think you have anger issues.” She mocks.
“Great, so that’s nothing I don’t already know,” I snap, opening my fridge and pulling out a cheap beer.
“Come on, Margo, you sound like you have a teacher who really wants to help you achieve your dream, cut him some slack, and this Colton, why don’t you just see where it goes?”
“Because I don’t like him.” I lie.
“Oh, bullshit, you’re a liar.” She laughs.
“Listen,” she softly says, “just relax, what could possibly go wrong here? You’re already in the programme, make sure you stick to your lessons.” She pauses, then sternly says, “Don’t be late to classes. Like you said, that’s four hours of your day. You do that, spend, say, a further two to four hours studying slash practicing, then you still have plenty of time to socialise. It would be good for you I think.” Damn, I hate it when she’s right.
Sighing, I say, “Okay, I will try.”
“And, Margo, you are unhappy, you are not secure, you are scared to take that leap into your life. Yes, you moved to the Big Apple, but you’re just sitting there, not experiencing it. God, I’d bite your arm off for the chance you’ve been given in life. You’re scared of doing anything in your life without a piano involved, isn’t it better to feel happy and whole for yourself. You do not need a piano to define you. You playing the piano should be an option, not the definition of who you are. If a flower doesn’t bloom, are you blaming the flower or its environment? When you’re told you are not enough, you stand tall and say, no, I am enough, I’m more than enough. When you are told you suck, you smile your biggest smile and say, because you’re near me. You are unique. Okay?”
Her voice breaks, and I bite my lip to stop myself from crying.
“Tink”s, stop living for someone else’s validation, it’s your validation. Sometimes the hardest thing in life is redirection, but redirection can be your blessing. One day, you will wake up and see that. And for the love of God, try counting to ten or focusing in on something when you feel yourself starting to unravel. Find a way to regulate your emotions. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I got to go, Marg”s, Billie’s just woken up from her nap and is crying.” My two-year-old niece. My heart hurts when I think about her; I miss them all so much.
“Give her a big kiss from her favourite auntie, tell her I love her to the moon, okay?” We say our goodbyes and hang up. Small tears trickle down my cheek as I take a swig out of the bottle in my hand.
This is the life you wanted, Margo.