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I search up the artist Alexei introduced me to on my way to the library, listening to half of her album before I get there. It’s so unlike anything I’ve ever listened to before, and I like it.
I guess I developed a pretentious attitude towards music when I thought I was going to Julliard. Thinking I’d have to fit in with all the future classical music stars. And I do like classical music. But I’m starting to realize that there’s so much more out there that I’ve been missing out on.
The second I step into the library, my airwaves feel like they’re contracting. My heart pounds in my ears and my palms start to sweat.
My mom and Maria texted to wish me luck before I left, and I try to hold onto their belief in me as I step out to take my place with the string section.
I’m actually close to hyperventilating now. Blood is rushing in my ears and I want to rip my tie off. I want to run. I see the fire exit glowing in the distance and imagine running straight through the doors and out of this stuffy room.
But I don’t.
I take my seat with the violins and raise my instrument with shaking hands.
I must play on autopilot.I couldn’t have been very good. I tell myself I see disappointment in every set of eyes watching me as I step off the stage.
Alice grabs me and pulls me out of earshot from everyone.
“Stef, you’re soaking, come on.”
She pulls me outside and the fresh air in the parking lot feels like heaven. I reach up to loosen my tie, but my hands are cramping and I can’t do it.
Alice does it for me. Concern etched on her face the whole time. I feel terrible.
“Come on, let’s go and sit down somewhere.”
I follow her blindly, letting her lead me.
When she finds a bench in the empty quad behind the library, she orders me to sit and I do as I’m told.
She lets me just sit for a while, waiting for my breathing to steady itself. My tie is hanging loose and my shirt’s crumpled.
“I must look a mess.”
“A hot mess.” Alice smiles.
“Thank you for that.”
“You don’t have to thank me, stupid. I’m your friend.”
My eyes start to well and I force it down.
“Steffy, is it really that bad for you? Performing?”
“Not all the time.”
She waits, looking at me softly. Not staring. Not pushing.
“I like performing at the restaurant, and casual things like that. When it’s messy and no one’s expecting you to be perfect.”
She nods. “You know, you don’t have to perform in an orchestra to be a musician.”
“I know that, it’s just… it’s always been the path for a violinist. You get classically trained at a good music school. You play in the orchestra…” I trail off, not wanting to think about the next part.You perform on stages like that, or bigger, for the rest of your life.
“Anyway, I don’t want to let my parents down, they paid a lot of money to get me here.”
Alice sighs, looking down at the patent Mary-Janes she wears under her ‘Amish girl performance dress.’ “I’m sure your parents would understand if you told them you didn’t want to perform.”
“It’s not that they wouldn’t understand. It’s that I don’t want them to be disappointed.”