14

She just shrugs at my reaction and repeats her statement. “They are the best. They are motivated, hardworking, passionate and just plain talented.”
“All of them?” I don’t know why I’m questioning her, I think I just like to hear her speaking with such conviction.
“Sure. I mean, some more talented than others while others work harder than the naturally gifted ones.”
“So it’s really the common factor maybe, that makes them the best.”
“What’s that?” She asks.
God, she doesn’t even see it.
“You.”
Her face flares red in an instant and she turns back to her piano, which I’m starting to realize is her security blanket. I have one too, my cello.
“You play beautifully.” I realize I haven’t told her yet.
“No, YOU play beautifully.” She sighs and I wish I had a recording of the sound.
And then I tell her what I’ve been thinking since I walked into the school grounds. “You’re too good for this place, Cadence.”
She doesn’t say anything and just turns on her creaky piano stool and follows my eyes around the room. The dark, decaying room with the falling apart music stands and the stained carpet. The dusty shelf of music scores held together by browning masking tape that would crumble under a strong breath. I watch her sitting there, like an angel amongst ghetto ruins. The only light in the place.
“You should be teaching… or performing in some of the best schools, the best concert halls in the world. Trust me. I’ve been in them. You wouldn’t be out of place.”
“So, you mean where there would be other teachers just like me?” Her voice asks quietly.
“Yes! Really, really talented musicians. The best there are. From all over the world. You’d beat them all out, all those people vying for a place there. Killing themselves and each other for a chance there.”
“Hmmm.” She grows pensive for a few moments, then speaks up again, “Oh. So, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I’m thrilled that’s she’s engaging with me.
“You’re saying those places are filled with amazing teachers? Musicians? The best of the best?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” And hoping she’ll believe.
“Then why would they need me?”
Well, that shut me up.
I had never thought of it that way before. Probably because I’m a selfish bastard.
“Wow. I didn’t even think…”
“It’s OK. It was sweet, thank you.” And she gifts me with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. “Thank you for thinking that I could have a chance at such amazing places as those. That you think I could do better. But that exact want for me to have something better? That’s exactly how I feel about my kids.”
Her sincerity touches me and I feel warmed by her giving spirit.
“It’s too bad that not everyone sees it that way, though.” She adds.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She sounds embarrassed that she’s said it.
“No, tell me.” I urge her softly.
“Well, it just looks like we’re not going to have enough money to take the kids to Nationals in Canberra. We just don’t have the money.”
“Canberra?”
“Oh, I forgot, most people don’t know that Canberra is the capital city of Australia. It’s where the National School Orchestra Competition is held.”
“How much would it cost?”
“Thousands. Thousands we don’t have and don’t have enough time to raise. For the bus, for accommodations. For the entry fees. A lot of miscellaneous costs you couldn’t imagine. Thousands… it might as well be millions.” It’s the first time, other than when she declared that there was never going to be anything between us, that she sounds like she’s given up.
“So what will happen?” I ask, honestly interested.
“What do you think?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Strangely, she grins at me and it’s nice to see the life light up back in her. “You’ve been a privileged meeeeeeeeeeeellionaire too long. What happens when you can’t afford something? You just don’t do it!”
“Well, that seems wrong.” I said plainly.
She laughs, “Change that to ‘unfair’ and you’ll sound just like my kids.”
“I like me already.” I say haughtily.
“Well, yeah, most people like hanging around with people the same mental age as themselves,” she chuckles.
I turn to her, trying to look insulted. But seeing the light dance in her eyes makes me burst into laughter as I shrug, surrendering, “Hey, when you’re right, you’re right.”
Our laughter dies down and it’s quiet in the room, but not awkward. I’m watching her as she looks around the room, and I can see pride on her face. She’s built something here, I feel. Probably something like the pride I feel when I see our CDs on display or walk past our promo posters. Something tangible that documents the success, the result of all our hard work.
“Did you enjoy the concert last night?” I don’t want to stir up her ill feelings about last night, but I’m hoping she won’t mind talking about the performance.
She turns completely around on the piano stool, tucking her hands under her legs. She doesn’t answer immediately, but it doesn’t make me worry. It looks like she’s trying to find the right words.
“It… it wasn’t what I expected,” her words are slow and measured.
Well, that makes me a little nervous… what HAD she expected?
“I didn’t know what to expect from ‘classical music mashed with rock’,” she continues, a look of confusion spreads now across her brow.
I can’t help but laugh. “I know, right? Who came up with that brilliant description?”
She seems to relax at my response, as if she was worried about offending me. “It just doesn’t seem like the right way to describe it.”
“How would you describe it?”
“I would… I don’t know,” she stops.
“No, it’s OK, it can’t be worse than ‘classical mashed rock’. It sounds like a side dish for an early bird special at the pub on a Thursday night.”
The sound of her unbridled laughter makes me want to repeat what I said, just to draw it out a little longer.
“Well, I’d go with something a little more elegant. Contemporary Chamber Rock maybe? It could tie in your style a little more elegantly than mashed potato rock classics or whatever it is now. So the contemporary would cover the modern music you do, and the concept of ‘chamber music’ in the description would suggest classical music too.”
I sigh. Of course she would get it.
“But anyway, whatever you call it last night was… it was life affirming.”
I had heard it all before all the words describing our performance, but that one was and I imagine, will always be, my favorite.
“It affirmed to me, that music is essential to beauty, to life,” she adds.
And in that moment I didn’t know whether to propose to her, or bend her over that piano and show her just how life affirming I could be.
“Ha, I even got the kids to warm up to a jam session playing “Bitter Sweet Symphony” and let them experiment with blending it with some Beethoven this afternoon.”
“And?”
“They loved it! They’ve already come up with a list of songs we could try mashing together in our next jam session.”
“NO! We don’t need any competition!”
“Well, you’ve got it, buster!”