Page 46 of Crescendo

Lydia

“Yeah, it’s not bad,” Adam said, but I was versed enough in British by now to recognize a not bad meaning I love it and a not bad meaning I am deeply disappointed in how I’ve spent my time.

The pub was a cozy place with dark wood paneling and exposed brick, rustic décor with rugs on dark wood floor, and it should have been the coziest little snug place in the world with the chatter all around, drinks on the table in front of us, and a rainy London night outside, water streaking down the paneled windows, but everything felt a little cold and unfamiliar right now.

Sharing my music lately had been like that.

I’d popped out for a little catch-up session with Adam, and Olivia was apparently a friend of his by now, thanks to the program, because she tagged along, and I really didn’t recognize myself, because she’d shown up in understated and practical shoes, and I found myself disappointed, having been waiting to see what kind of ugly shoes she wore today.

She’d explained she had a pair of nice boots she preferred for rainy days, and the ugly shoes came out for better weather.

We’d managed to fill the air with small talk and chat about the program, Adam’s work, and how I was enjoying student life, before we came to the hard subject of my music.

I shared my progress on my composition assignment with the two of them, and I felt like I was presenting a bad report card to my parents.

“What am I doing wrong?” I said, and Adam shrugged.

“Nothing, honestly. Nothing that I can see. It’s good. It’s just…”

Olivia kicked back in her chair, arm slung over the back, holding her beer casually, as she said in a low voice, “The only problem with it is that you don’t like it.”

I scowled. “What, are you saying it’s all in my head?”

“Yes,” Olivia said, careful, measured, “and no. The problems are all in your head. The results are real. It’s good, but you can tell from listening to it that it’s not something the composer loves. The artist has to love the art. It comes through in the final product.”

I groaned, hanging my head. Adam spent a second sizing me up before he said, “Eliza told me you’ve been moving more towards performing lately.”

“Since when were you friends with Eliza, anyway?” I said, giving him a lazy side-eye. He knocked back a big draw of his stout before he set it down, grinning at me.

“She’s got a certain kind of… spunk. A sort of hunger. I like her.”

“Pretty sure you’re married.”

He wrinkled his nose. “She’s rather too young, as well.”

Olivia sighed. “Yes, we all know about your mummy issues coalescing into having to marry a bossy older woman.”

“And I don’t plan to deny it,” he said brightly. “I think you could learn a thing or two from Eliza, frankly. I think you’ve lost your hunger, your… drive. It’s what happens when you get quite comfortable at the top, now, isn’t it?”

“Ha. I won’t tell her you said that, she’ll get a big ego, which is supposed to be my thing. You know she’s planning on using her connection with you to get the BBC Symphony Orchestra to play her work at the Royal Albert Hall, don’t you?”

“She can try, but as far as this one goes, it’s not my place to decide.

However, for you, I can absolutely exert my authority, pull a few strings.

There’s a smaller matinee concerto going on before long, and I could get you a spot playing violin with them if you wanted to.

It’s just typical classical pieces, nothing you wouldn’t have played at some point, so you could still fit in enough practice with them to make it to the stage.

It’s been a long time since you did any performing on stage… ”

“Thank you,” I said, my tone answering the question. “Really, thank you.”

“It seems like your heart is calling you towards performing.”

“I just don’t think I’m in the headspace for it. Maybe offer Bansi. He might be a better violinist than I am.”

He strained a smile. “Lydia, you know it’s not about how well you play, unfortunately, it’s that your name would be quite a draw.”

“And the well of talent will eventually dry up if you don’t make efforts to lift up new talent. You know that.”

Olivia leaned in with that tough-love look all over her features.

“If you’re not in the headspace for that, you’d better get yourself in the headspace for something.

Coasting along in the course meddling in other people’s business isn’t getting you the big creative breakthrough you’re looking after.

Perhaps it could be time to focus on your own business? ”

Adam chuckled. “Meddling in Ella’s business seems to have gone well enough for her.”

“ Aside from picking up a girlfriend,” Olivia said, but there was a dance of light in her eyes as she did. I probably should have disputed them calling her my girlfriend, but… I didn’t want to.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I feel that inspiration when I screw around playing with other people, especially with Ella, but when I get serious, it all just feels like a chore again. I thought playing with genre would help, that exploring a different style would get me out of my head, being in the music, but… it’s nothing. ”

They exchanged a look, furrowed brows and tight lips. I sighed.

“All right, all right, stop moping over me. I’ll be fine. But for the record, Adam—you might be biased towards Eliza, but I’m even more biased towards Ella, so I think we know who will win.”

It still didn’t exactly fix things, didn’t clear up the haze, once I’d finished the conversation with the two of them and headed back through the rain towards the apartment.

I was going around and around the thought in circles—playing back what Olivia had said about how the artist has to love the art and trying to figure out how to square the circle when I didn’t love the art in the first place because it was bad —when I got back to the apartment to find an impromptu party, the music room doors open from the front through to the kitchen and dining room, Ella and Clara currently playing duet in the music room while people talked amongst themselves.

Luckily, I found Bansi straightaway, which immediately made it clear who had made this whole thing into a party.

“Lydia,” he said, beaming at me, turning away from his conversation with a girl I recognized as Rosie and her friend. “So good of you to join us!”

“So good of you to throw a party in my own apartment without even saying a word to me,” I said, my voice mock-chastising. He gave me an innocent look.

“Me? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come off it. You made a party because you made too much food again.”

He gestured at Clara. “It’s not my fault! She didn’t eat enough!”

With Clara playing the cello and Ella on the piano, I decided to invite myself into the situation, walking past Clara and picking up the violin from the corner.

They were clearly playing something spontaneous, so I joined in, standing next to the piano to make eye contact with Ella, and I concentrated hard on the way it felt— performing, like this, feeling the way the music flowed naturally when I was here syncing up with Ella Hendrickson.

Olivia was right—I liked the music when I was doing this. And maybe that made all the difference. But how was that actually helpful?

I didn’t know. All I knew was that I liked Ella, a lot. And maybe that was what drove me, once we’d finished the song, to set down the violin and peck Ella on the cheek, claiming her in front of everyone.

“A bit of that Chopin you were studying,” I said. “I can see the inspiration.”

“Ha—it’s not intentional. I just soak up whatever I was looking at last.” She was apparently on the same page as me, because even here in full view of everyone, she slipped off the piano bench and stood up, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before she stepped back, eyes sparkling, a little flush visible on her cheeks.

“So, the party is because Bansi made too much food,” I said, and she laughed, hanging her head.

“How long did it take you to piece that together?”

“The instant I saw Bansi in here. Same amount of time it would take you.”

But I didn’t mind it—getting to talk to the rest of the program, Ella on my arm, just clearly holding her to my side, girlfriend in all but name.

And in practice, since our time together here was rapidly slipping away. And having to go without her was going to be the worst blow to my inspiration that I’d ever gotten.

So maybe it was the act of being cute together in front of everybody with her, tacitly admitting what everybody more or less knew at this point—including Ella’s friends Alisha and Sian, who had also gotten wrapped up in the party without meaning to and who gave me very loaded looks, Sian making a veiled comment about enjoying the gifts we’re given and me making it very overt by responding oh, yes, that reminds me, thanks for your present, it’s been a lot of fun, mostly to watch Ella melt into the floorboards—maybe all of that was what had me sit down next to Ella on the music room couch at the end of it all and decide I couldn’t keep it inside me any longer.

“Ella?”

“Nope. I’m still mad you said that to Sian.”

Well, her face didn’t look that mad. She looked adorably scrunched up. “What?” I said. “You have seemed to be having fun when we use it.”

“And now I’m not letting you use it tonight unless you tell me you’re very very sorry.”

I laughed. “I think this is the best scolding I’ve ever gotten. I’m very very sorry. Now will I get to use it tonight?”

She crossed her arms with a huff, and she said, “Only because I like you, for whatever reason.”

I laughed, kissing her cheek. “I’m just proud to get to show off that I have you.”

She broke out into a playful smile my way. “You are rather… cute, in that way.”

I looked down, leaning in and resting my elbows on my knees, looking at our legs pressed together. “I know we’ve been pretending this isn’t a thing, but… you know this program only goes on for so long.”