Page 97 of Resist Me

Should we be dating? I guess that depended on his stance on the dinner. There was no reason to overthink it right now. It wouldn’t help and I had other things to do. For one, I needed to play this song for what might’ve been the twentieth time tonight. Every time I did it, I thought about West’s words from the diner.

Running my fingers over the keys, I closed my eyes and just let myself play. The notes were the ones my mom had once arranged. Just playing the first few bars made me feel better. My body was more relaxed and I felt the music within me, rather than something on the outside that I had to listen to critically. This didn’t need to be perfected because it existed just as it was meant to. As long as I felt connected to it, it would sound right.

Maybe he did have a point. I could nail La Campanella and watch the professors nod appreciatively. Maybe they’d clap. In the end, though, what the hell did it matter? I wasn’t going to perform for anyone as a career and I didn’t even really like the composition. It was all over the place. If you asked me, it would’ve been better left as a violin piece. Let them worry about that trainwreck.

When I finished the song, I sat there for a moment in silence. It had only been half a day since I’d seen him, but I found myself wishing West was here. Maybe I just wanted to share this feeling with someone. And that right there was enough to convince me that this was the right piece to play.Feelingit, like he’d said.

Moving to the couch, I pulled out my phone to call my grandma. They were coming to the team dinner, which added another reason for West to get weird. I might have to put a leash on him so he couldn’t run away when they inevitably got introduced.

“Hey, kid,” a deep, gruff voice answered.

“Your voice sounds off, gran. How do I know you’re not the big bad wolf who ate her?”

My grandpa laughed, making me smile. “Grandma is busy fighting with a roux right now.”

“Ah, can’t leave that alone for a second. It’ll get all lumpy.”

“She’d be furious and take it out on me. How’s the song coming?”

“Well, that’s one of the things I wanted to talk about. Can you put it on speaker?”

I could hear him fumble with the phone, probably trying to figure it out. My grandma had a better grasp of these things, but my grandpa was old school. He liked his desktop computer and a flip phone, which he only used for calls.

“What’s going on, honey?” Grandma asked loudly. “I told you that you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“It’s not that. Actually, I was thinking about playing something else instead. Mom’s song, the one she used for their wedding.”

“Oh, that one is so beautiful. I remember she started that her junior year in high school and she spent so long adjusting it, making it exactly what she wanted.”

I smiled as I sat on the edge of the bed. “It really is beautiful. It’s just…”

“What is it, kid?” Grandpa prompted. “Think you can’t do it justice?”

“No, I can play it just fine. There’s emotion behind it and I think it’ll really make a difference. Part of me just feels like I’m using her hard work to secure my place in the program. I don’t know if it cheapens the meaning of the song.”

“Lincoln Porter,” Grandma said in her scolding voice. “If your mom was here, she’d be in that room and she would be so proud to hear you play. I reckon she’d be crying, even though she’d try to hide it. Not only would she be proud; she’d be honored that you chose it as the piece you want to use to reach your dreams. It doesn’t cheapen the song. It gives it memory.”

Grandpa cleared his throat. “You know, your mother played for local theater productions while she was in college and she did other events to pay her way. She caught the eye of someone in the Broadway scene while she was playing that song. It jump-started her career and, if you ask me, it’s only fitting that it does the same for you.”

“I forgot about that,” I admitted.

My grandparents were right, but especially about one thing in particular. The piece had memory. If I played it during my audition and any time after that, it would continue to mean more to me. I’d been worried that attaching my own memorable moments to it would drown out hers, but maybe it made them all more powerful as a whole.

Many times, I’d thought about the title she gave the composition, and it hadn’t made much sense to me.Elysium At Midnight. When I was younger, I told her that the sun didn’t set in Elysium, to which she’d laughed and told me I was thinking about it too literally. It wasn’t something seen or perceived in front of you; it was an ideal, something that existed within you, a world of your own creation. To her, midnight in Elysium would be more paradisiacal than endless daylight. Maybe it was her happy place where she stored all of the good things and retreated to when her spirit was tired.

“Anything else on your mind?” Grandma asked.

“Uh, yeah. I might be going to the team dinner with a guy.”

“Oh my goodness. How serious is it?”

I laughed and took a moment to think about it. “I like him a lot. He’s just a pain in the ass. But he’s important, I think. I hope.”

“We can’t wait to meet him, Lincoln. If he’s grabbed your attention, he must be very special.”

*****

The audition and the dinner happened to be on the same weekend, which was both annoying and nice because I could get them both over with. Next Saturday at six, I’d sit in front of the piano with five sets of eyes on me while I showed them the inner workings of my soul. If all went according to plan, it would move them and my parents would smile from wherever they still existed in the universe.

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