Page 20 of Margot

“I was barely one when I first touched a piano. My parents got me lessons when I was four.”

“Four? Wow. How were you able to sit still? I have a four-year-old daughter and she barely sits still long enough for my wife to brush her hair.” He seemed perplexed as most people did. I rested my hands in my lap then twisted my wedding band around and around my finger.

“I’ve always had a gift. Piano has always been my first love,” I said easily. I couldn’t remember a time where I wasn’t sitting at the piano.

“I’m sure you’ve had more than one teacher but which one sticks out the most?”

“Oh, I’ve only worked with one teacher privately.” My chest tightened and the cords in my neck turned to steel. “Jonathan DuBois,” I answered. Charlie nodded and scribbled down more words.

“He’s an amazing pianist. To learn under such a legend from the age of four must be…incredible.”

“Yes, it definitely was.” I tried to nod but I lacked basic muscle movement at that point. My mouth went dry and my head began pounding. It wasn’t because of the interview though. I couldn’t put my finger on it but I wanted the sensation to stop.

“So DuBois molded you into the phenom that you are today?” Charlie looked up at me with a raised eyebrow and I smiled a little.

“Yes, you could say that.”

“Did your parents have any musical talent?” He quizzed.

“My father played the cello and my mother is a harpist. So I’ve always been around music.”

“Amazing. I’m sure you’re poised for greatness. What is your specialty?”

“Classical romance, definitely.” The moment I started talking about my favorite composers, my body relaxed. We spent ten minutes on composers and another ten on what my daily schedule looked like and then I was done.

Good.

I couldn’t wait to run home to my piano. I had to wait and rehearse for a few more hours but the moment I was done, I bolted. Even though I rehearsed on stage, I still wanted to get in the rest of my ten hours.

I was going to need coffee.

On the way home, I stopped at Tuesday’s Café and grabbed a cup of their bold roast. It was going to be a long night.

When I walked inside, the waitress that usually serves Lennox and me when we have breakfast there spotted me. She looked directly at me and I swear she rolled her eyes before disappearing behind the counter. A flash of anger engulfed me right before another headache started to move in. I had to leave the café. I didn’t want to be there anymore. If I had my way, I’d hide behind my piano forever.

I’d just make a cup of coffee at home.

Before any other server could ask if I needed help, I pushed through the front door and headed straight for my car. I’d been around too many people for the day. I needed solitude.

I drove home and pulled into the driveway. For a few minutes, I just sat there. I had no idea what was wrong with me but I felt like I was on the verge of a mental break down and it was terrifying.

That’s when I remembered I needed to set up an appointment with Dr. Adler. I needed guidance now more than ever. After a few long, deep breaths, I called and made an appointment. Lennox and I would have to fill out a bunch of paperwork but it was worth it to finally know we were both going to see someone. A wave of relief rushed over me, and my headache lifted.

I would finally get some answers.

My fingers tingled and my muscles felt so loose. It was in such stark contrast to how I’d been feeling all day long. I sat in my car for a few moments soaking in the feeling.

Did true happiness feel like this?

I had a smile on my face when my phone began to ring in my hands. I thought maybe it was Lennox calling to tell me he was running a little late. Normally, he beat me home on days I had rehearsal.

When I glanced at the number on my phone, my lips turned down. It wasn’t Lennox. It was a number from New York. Something deep inside pushed me to answer the call even though I rarely answered numbers I didn’t know.

“Hello?” I fully expected an automated voice to start speaking to me on the other end.

“Hi, is this Sutton English?”

“Speaking,” I nodded against the phone.