Page 12 of Crescendo

Lydia

The rain cleared up after the weekend, leaving the stone pavers of Exhibition Road slick with water that refracted violet tones in the sunrise as Ella and I headed to Crescendo on Monday morning, Bansi joining us as his flatmate Clara abandoned him to go with Dodge.

We chattered on the walk, Bansi speculating what classes might have been like, and Ella stayed quieter, that tension drawn tauter than before in her features.

Whatever her mental block was, it was prickling her as classes approached, I knew, but I didn’t know how I was supposed to help her if she wouldn’t tell me what it was.

Melinda had told me last night, after I’d recounted the weekend, that I wasn’t supposed to help her. Best you can do is put it out there that you’re available to help someone and let them come to you when they need it. Anything beyond that is a savior complex.

I guess she was right. But I couldn’t help this feeling like Ella was on her way out a door and if I didn’t do anything, then I’d miss out on something spectacular.

She’d kept backing out of our lessons early, and my motivation was turning into frustration, harsh and pointy on the edges. I was never at my best when I was frustrated.

Maybe I should have listened to Melinda. But I’d made such a habit of ignoring her, it felt a shame to break my streak.

We were one of the earlier ones showing up at Crescendo, packing into the auditorium for the official start of our instruction—I felt a bit like an adult sitting in a kid’s school desk, but glancing down my side at Ella with the intent expression at the front of the auditorium, her laptop out, and Bansi past her with two different notebooks and a whole pencil case like a regular back-to-school icon, and scanning the crowd to find the familiar faces, I settled in for a lecture.

Back to basics. I was feeling more inspired already.

The first lecture was general, far-reaching, more describing the structure of what our lectures would be like.

It was an old man with a short, coarse beard, Doctor Richard Maynes, who rattled off basic housekeeping information with a dull look in his eyes before he lit up at the material, sharing some of the compositions from past students, two pieces that had both been performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra, and he talked briefly about what made them work and broke down the various pieces we’d be learning to help us write just like that.

I was worried the penny would drop once I was here and it would set in that Melinda was right and that I was wasting my time learning something I already knew, but it felt so deeply reassuring being here, less like I was doing something I already knew but more like I was patching up a damaged foundation.

After the teacher had let us go with one more welcome to Crescendo, and good luck, we broke off quickly into smaller groups, going upstairs and into targeted focus groups for hands-on lessons experimenting with musical instruments, an opportunity for the teachers to see where we stood with things too.

I landed in one with Bansi, where I got to watch him move the teacher nearly to tears with a violin solo, and I got an opportunity to humble myself by trying to use the piccolo, which I hadn’t gone near in a long time.

The lessons teacher didn’t hold back on me just because of who I was, which was a relief, and I came out of practical studies as exhausted as anybody else to sit in on the group coming back together for composition lecture, and judging by the tight, frustrated look on Ella’s face when she sat next to me, her lessons hadn’t gone well.

She was so closed-off, though, I didn’t get the chance to talk to her about it at all, not until we were halfway through the day and let out for lunch, and I had to move quickly to catch up with her as she pushed out into the street to follow her.

“Hey—mind if I tag along?” I said. “I’m trusting you to know where the best vegetarian food is around here.”

She gave me a witheringly fake smile. “You don’t have to go vegetarian just because I am, Lydia,” she said, her voice all barbs, and I walked quietly along next to her for a second, processing it, letting the comment steep, before I answered.

“Afraid I’m gonna take all the vegetables for myself, huh?”

She hung her head, but I saw a tired smile on the edges of her lips. “Yes… that’s what it is. Sorry,” she said, stopping and turning to face me, drawing her shoulders up taller. “I’m just not in a very good place right now… I don’t mean to get frustrated with you.”

“That would imply you’re frustrated with me. Do you want to explain why?”

She sighed, hard, pinching the bridge of her nose. “God, Lydia, no, I didn’t mean it like that, just… I’m sorry. The classes are just difficult. Please, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d like a bit of time alone.”

It bubbled uncomfortably in my stomach, this keen awareness of something being wrong and not knowing what to do about it, and I said, “You can talk to me, you know. I don’t have a thin skin. If I’m causing problems—”

“I’m talking by asking to have some time alone for lunch,” she said, her voice raised just a touch, enough to quiet the conversation.

She turned away with another sigh, this one sadder, more defeated.

“I’m sorry. I think maybe you shouldn’t bother with the…

the private piano lessons. I think I’m rather… not a good audience for it.”

“Ella,” I said after her back as she started away, and I took a step after her but stopped, watching her walk down the street.

“Ella! If you’d just talk to me…” But I let my voice fall off, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

I found myself standing alone in the street watching her disappear in the crowds, and I must have been so lost in the thoughts, the feeling of it, that I didn’t notice anybody approaching me until Clara’s voice spoke from next to me.

“Trouble in paradise, then,” she said, and I flicked my gaze over to where she smiled wryly at me. “Had a fight with your girlfriend?”

“Firstly, she’s not my girlfriend, and secondly… do you typically go around looking for people who’ve had fights with their girlfriends so you can revel in it?”

“I was just walking by. I can never really help a bit of intrigue, though. Grab lunch with me? I couldn’t stand one more second of Dodge and had to move along.”

I sighed, letting my shoulders fall as I turned to her. “If you know a good spot for a vegetarian…”

“Oh, love, it’s London, everywhere’s got a good veg option or two. How’s curry sound?”

It was a good call—just a bit later, we were tucked into a cozy little place for a hearty lentil curry while she went for the chicken, and we made small talk about the classes so far as we waited for our food.

We only got to the dominant note crowding everything else out of my mind once we’d dug into our food, taking a bite and pushing the rest aside to let it cool as Clara looked levelly at me across the table.

“So, how’d you scare off Ella, anyway?”

“Apparently the classes were what scared her off. All I did was, I think, make things worse by asking her what was bothering her and telling her she can trust me.”

“Americans always miss cues… I’d wager she was telling you loud and clear to leave her alone without actually saying it.”

“No, she was actually saying it, too. But I’m really stubborn and annoying.”

She laughed. “Well, at least you own it.”

“It’s just…” I sank back in my seat with a sigh.

“I know something is eating at her. Every time she sees the clarinet case, every time she sits down at the piano, every time I try to talk music theory, it’s this…

this thing on her face, in her eyes. Like it’s so much more than she can carry.

And she’ll never get anywhere if she doesn’t talk to someone about it. ”

She smiled wryly. “And you’re the one to save the day and fix it for her, then, are you?”

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t at least try. I’m sure you’ve had something like that, too, haven’t you?”

Clara arched an eyebrow at me, shifting her position now—facing me at an angle, defensive, one arm drawn over her front. “Something like what, then? Where I’m trying to save the day for someone?”

“You notice a lot about everyone around you. Very… perceptive. I won’t believe you if you try telling me that doesn’t come from somewhere, something that’s made you feel like you have to notice, see things in your surroundings…”

She made a face. “You’re really quite nosy, aren’t you?”

“Mm, indeed.”

“Only the first day of class and you’ve managed to make things hostile with your flatmate with this kind of approach, so your answer is to double down on it with other people, too.”

“More or less.”

“You’re impossible,” she laughed, going back to her curry. “But I suppose you aren’t wrong. We’ve probably all had something like that, something to make us think we’ve got to be the ones to step in and do something. But Ella’s not your responsibility.”

“No,” I said. “But she’s my friend. And I want to be there for my friends.” I paused when Clara looked up at me, one eyebrow raised, and I said, “You too, you know. If something were weighing on your mind, I’d want to know.”

She studied me a second longer before she went with a slight smile back to her food. “Americans are so forward.”

“All part of our charm.”

“Just give Ella some time. Maybe you’re right that sometimes you’ve got to push, but there’s still plenty of time. No sense in wasting all that time by getting her to wall off already.”

“Hm. Maybe you’re right,” I said, going with a heavy posture back to my food. “I’m not used to minding my own business, but I’ll do what I can.”

“It’s charming, anyway. Hate to admit it, but you’re kind of hard not to like, in some way.”

I laughed. “What a glowing compliment.”