Page 55 of Symphony of Salvation

Closing my eyes, I found the correct key and moved my fingers on my legs, picking out the bassline with my left hand and adding a flair of harmony with my right. I rode the sleigh ride. I tasted the hot cocoa. Pine and sap tickled my nose as I inhaled.

It wasn’t until Niles finished and stood to bow that I returned to myself again, querying why Niles had chosen to open a show intended for students and their parents.

Over the following two hours, I listened to the concert band and several solo performers with the ear of a professional, trying not to cringe. It took time to adjust my ingrained expective nature. I’d spent a lifetime on stage, but never in an amateur capacity. It was unlike anything I’d witnessed. The seriousness I’d anticipated was absent. The discipline was lax, yet it was raw and real and somehow beautiful in its own way. The rough edges and imperfect transitions between performances helped me relax after a time as I observed a quality of life I’d never experienced. Freedom from expectation. A joy in its simplest form.

No pressure. No criticism. No punishment. Just the pure essence of music enjoyed by all.

Niles and I had fought tooth and nail all week over grades. His incessant reminders that these were teenagers had gone over my head. I had been a teenager of a different sort. Thescale of comparison was imbalanced. My quality of life was incomparable to those on stage.

The concert ended at nine, and the auditorium bustled with a clash of families and faculty. Koa and Jersey took their leave, wishing me a happy holiday. I remained seated until the crowd thinned, and I spotted my daughter happily engaged with a few other teenagers. The upcoming weeks presented a challenge. It would be Constance’s first Christmas without her mother. I was a poor substitute, and she let me know it every chance she got. I didn’t know how to make her happy.

Many students were heading home that evening, taking an early holiday. I anticipated the final day of class would be lackadaisical. Only a handful of solos remained to be evaluated. Perhaps Niles could conquer them alone, and I could bow out. It wasn’t like I’d provided much in the way of help. He rejected every piece of feedback I delivered. I could stay home, invite Constance to take the day off, and we could get a Christmas tree or buy decorations for the cottage. I hadn’t shopped because I didn’t know what to buy a fourteen-year-old.

When my daughter left the auditorium without saying goodbye and a text landed on my phone a minute later, telling me she was going home, I abandoned the plan as fast as it formed. She wouldn’t want to spend a day with her dad.

Few people remained, and as the last of them trickled out the door, I found myself alone, not wanting to head home when the only thing awaiting me was a hostile teenager.

I missed Chicago. I missed late-night rehearsals and independence. I missed not being the target of teenage dissatisfaction everywhere I turned.

The stage lights clicked off. Clicking footfall sounded from behind the backdrop. The curtains ruffled, and a moment later, Niles parted the flush seam, appearing mid-stage. He aimed for the piano and collected a stack of sheet music from on top.Scanning it, he moved to leave the way he’d come when he noticed me sitting alone at the back of the auditorium.

A long pause ensued where we stared at one another, neither of us speaking.

“Why are you still here?” he asked, his voice filling the vast empty chamber.

“No better place to have a midlife crisis.”

He frowned, so I added, “The show was entertaining.”

“Entertaining?” Niles tossed the music back on the piano and stuffed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Interesting word choice.”

“I can’t win with you, can I? It was a compliment. I enjoyed it. It was… perfect in its simplicity.”

Niles huffed and shook his head like he couldn’t figure me out. That made two of us.

He wore a festive hunter-green V-neck with a white shirt and tie underneath. No rolled sleeves, as was his norm. He exuded an appropriate teacher vibe that evening. Long hair tamed in a tight bun at his nape. Flyaways carefully controlled. A clean-shaven jaw, which surprised and disappointed me. I liked the trim beard. It suited him.

He was incredibly attractive, and I couldn’t dismiss the feelings he stirred, no matter how hard I tried. In the back of my mind, the serenade I’d come to associate with Niles resumed. It was always there, under the surface, expanding with each encounter.

We’d barely had a civil conversation all week, and Niles didn’t seem open to one now, but I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to go home to a tension-filled house and a daughter who ignored me. I wanted his music inside me. I wanted to see where it took me. He turned my system upside down, yet I couldn’t pull away. I didn’t want tension. I didn’t want a wall. I wanted to bridge the gap and harmonize.

“Will you play for me?” I motioned to the piano.

Another huff. “No. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It’s humiliating.”

“You have skill, Niles. I never said you didn’t. The piece you opened with. I didn’t recognize it. It was beautiful.”

His guarded expression remained, and he didn’t seem inclined to share the title. Abandoning my seat at the back of the auditorium, I followed the aisle to the stage. Peering up, I met Niles’s wary gaze.

I pressed my lips together, seeking the right phrase, the right notes, the right tone to convey the right message. “I was wrong.” It was a start.

“About what?”

“A lot of things. I grew up in a different world, and you unfairly judge me. I’m trying to adapt to this… situation, but I’m clearly failing.”

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