Chapter 24 – Play From the Heart.
Ishould have told him, let him know, left him a note to say that I was going home. I don’t know if that’s a good idea or not, he’ll get the message, right? He will go looking for me or not see me around and he will put two and two together? But to be sure, I will text Colton and tell him.
You know, a simple, don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s me. Not that you need to know, but I have gone back to the city and I’m telling you like you’re my boyfriend and need to know these things …
Hum and ahh about it for a little bit longer, nerves swirling inside for the audition that’s coming and the guilt for leaving him, not telling him that I’m coming back. I’m a mess. I’m an absolute mess. This is exactly what I said would happen if I got involved with Mr. Shaw.
What am I supposed to do? I need to focus on my audition, not him.
I order another glass of wine; I don’t drink, but here I am drinking.
This flight home seems way longer than what it was on the way in.
Really, I feel ashamed, I feel like in the fleeting time that I’ve known him, I’m doing exactly what I said I didn’t want to do.
He has this way of invoking these feelings out of me, of pulling me out of the darkest moments. And makes me feel seen. But he’s such a flight risk. I know he said, don’t look at Google, don’t check what it says, but I did, and I can’t say I was shocked by the results. Newspaper, after article, after blog posts about him with other women, in strip clubs, nightclubs, secret societies.
This guy can get around. There hasn’t been anything on the internet about him in the last couple of weeks, but that’s because he’s been busy with the wedding. Still. Here I am when I should be focused on the biggest moment of my life, worried about if he’s upset that I’ve come home. God, I need to pull myself together.
A twisted knot sits tight in my stomach. I feel sick and nauseous. The red wine isn’t helping, but here we go. Just drink your worries away, you’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.
******
I get home a little past three in the afternoon. I’m exhausted. Feeling a little jet lagged.
More than anything, I’m a trembling wreck. I rang Hadley the moment I got off the plane and out of the terminal to tell her the news. She was ecstatic, of course she would be, she’s my big sister, that’s her job. She tried to find out what happened at the wedding, but I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
How was I supposed to say, I banged the best man more than once. I lost the bet, was late to the rehearsal. But I played well when she walked down the aisle, that’s a win, right?
No, stop. I need to pull myself together; This is my moment. I jump up and down in my kitchen a few times, shaking my arms out. Like boxers do before they go twelve rounds in a ring. I can do this.
I need to find an outfit, I need practice, I need to eat, and I need to sleep.
Mr. D told me that my audition would be at one tomorrow afternoon. So, I’ve got some time, not a lot, but I’ve got time.
Later on in the day, I headed to room P1 to get some last-minute practice in. I hoped on my way over that Mr. D was there so I could at least get his advice on what pieces to play.
When I called him to let him know I had landed at JFK airport, I’d asked him what he thought I should prep for, and he said to just play from the heart.
Jesus, my heart’s all over the place at the minute, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. It feels like it’s breaking but at the same time, it feels like it’s complete. How the hell are you supposed to play from that? This was not how I was expecting to walk into this audition.
When I get to the classroom, Mr. D is at the piano waiting.
“I knew you’d turn up,” he says. He’s wearing the most disgusting vest I’ve ever seen him in.
This time it’s bright fucking pink.
“Nice vest” falls out of my mouth before I can stop it. I slap my hand over my mouth, and his eyebrows shoot up.
“Thank you,” he says, his tone confident, like I might actually like that vest.
“So, I need your help. It’s tomorrow and I’m not ready.” I walk around the classroom, clenching and unclenching my hands.
“Course you’re ready.” I wish I had his confidence in me.
“I’m not ready, Mr. D, I’m nowhere near ready. Look at me.” Tears well in my eyes.
“Do you know why I asked you to go? Why I asked you to take my place?” He turns back toward the keys on the piano as if inspecting them. The answer is already sitting in my gut. “I have a feeling.” “What’s the feeling?” He still hasn’t looked over at me.
“You knew who he was, didn’t you? Did you really have a family emergency?”
Shrugging, he says, “Course I did. I wouldn’t lie about that, but yes, I knew he was. He didn’t know who I was, though.”
“Why did you ask me to go? Did you know that they were gonna pull my audition forward too?” He runs his chubby little fingers through his hair like I’m annoying him.
“Listen, I had a feeling that this might happen, sometimes they do it, you are ready. You’re more than ready.”
“I’m not ready!” I scream, and step back away from the piano like it’s hurting me to be near it.
His hands come up in surrender. “Just relax. You can do this, play from the heart,” and I want to explode. Everything inside me is shaking. My whole body is vibrating with frustration. And confusion. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be thinking, what I’m supposed to be doing, and worst of all, the only fix I can think of in this situation is him. I want to see him. I’m kicking myself internally because he should not be my focus right now.
My focus should be on my dream, and I’m losing my dream because of him.
I pace back and forth a little bit longer. Frustration evident from my teacher as he watches me while tutting and sighing, then turns away and begins to play, and I recognize it straight away. It’s “Hun Var Min.” He loves this one. Mr. D has this weird little attachment to it.
He plays the piece out effortlessly as his voice comes through strong over it. “Remember what I told you, Margo, I can help you transfer your feelings into something magnificent. When you play, you play angelic, you’re magical on the keys. But there’s one thing that you lack, and that’s emotion. Raw emotion. You close your eyes, and you immerse yourself into it, and it is beautiful, but there is always that little piece missing.”
I go silent and watch him as he gently flicks his fingers over each key, and it looks like he’s not even touching them.
“So, when I saw him that night in this room, when you broke the rules,” he adds, but there’s a chuckle in his voice. “I figured that’s where you’d have it. I might have constructed a plan, you know, get you to the wedding, get you to play, get you closer to him. Thinking maybe that might invoke some feelings in you that I can use to make you go into that audition tomorrow the best you’ve ever been, you just gotta trust me on this, kid.”
The way he says kid, reminds me of my dad. I need to ring my dad, maybe that would help? It would be so much easier if they were here: Mum, Dad, Hadley, and baby Billie. Tears stream down my cheeks, and every emotion inside me feels like it”s burning at my skin to come out.
He’s right, Mr. D, in a stupid magenta vest, is right. I have been missing something, and this is it, and this is why I’m in the programme: to let him find the flaw I have.
And if my flaws are emotion and Colton Shaw, I can work with that. I can work on that.