Page 56 of Symphony of Salvation

I stared at my hands, at my long fingers and trimmed nails. My most precious commodity, yet some days, I wanted to take a hammer to them and smash the bones. I wanted to escape the chains that bound me to this life.

Craning my neck, I met Niles’s gaze. “You resent your parents for not supporting your dream. They wanted something different for you, and when your desires and goals went unrealized, you blamed them.

“You envy me for having lived what you perceive to have been a perfect life. My parents, in contrast, did all they could to ensure I reached my full potential. They didn’tencourageorpromoteten hours of practice a day. Theyinsistedon it. It wasn’t an option. I didn’t get a choice. They didn’t commend my accomplishments. They listed errors, and I was punished for them.

“I played piano until my fingers ached, until I saw the passages and notes in nightmares, and I wanted to tear my ears off because I was so tired of hearing them. I was dragged to countless auditions from the time I was six years old. I had tutors who did nothing but shout and scold. I was never allowed to play outside or do things other boys did. My hands were a delicate gift from god, and I needed to care for them.” Displaying them, I made fists in defiance and squeezed them until my knuckles hurt.

I glanced about the stage, at the music stands and chairs lined up on risers, at the lonely timpani and the upright grand that had seen better days and needed to be tuned.

“Music and the stage are the only life I’ve ever known, and I’m not sure it’s the life I would have chosen for myself. If I come across as starchy, rude, or arrogant, if my methods are harsh and my comments are destructive and cause you shame or embarrassment, I apologize. You’re not less than me because you didn’t rise to professionalism, because you didn’t attend Juilliard, because you don’t have a World Classical Music Award on your wall. None of it matters. Not to me.

“I’m sorry you didn’t live your dream as you’d hoped, but let me tell you something. I respect you for having the courage to defy your parents’ wishes and follow your heart. Sometimes, I wish I’d done the same. Maybe I’d have learned to fix automobiles or design houses. Maybe I’d have played tennis for a living, become a farmer, or joined the navy.” I chuckled. The notion was outrageous. “What I’m trying to say is, the grass isn’t always greener on the other side.”

I reached to adjust my tie and remembered too late I wasn’t wearing one and smoothed my hand down my sweater front instead. “I’ll get out of your hair so you can shut down for the night. I don’t think I’ll be in tomorrow. We’ve had enough conflict this week. Merry Christmas.”

I turned to go, but Niles’s words stopped me. “If all that’s true, why are you doing the same thing with Constance? Why are you shaping and molding her life to reflect yours if you hated it?”

A painful smile touched my lips, and I turned back. “I didn’t raise my daughter, Niles. I was the absent, uninterested father, remember? She’s the product of her mother through and through. Chloé molded and shaped our daughter to reflect the lifesheloved. She instilled in Constance a passion for music from the time she was a baby, and she guided our daughter down the road to stardom before Constance could hardly walk.

“Since I’ve taken custody, I’ve learned that Constance’s desire to pursue these goals is now her own. ShewantsJuilliard. Shewantsthe stage. She doesn’t yearn for other things, or if she does, she doesn’t share them with me. She locks herself in her room and plays until she can’t, and there is no stopping her. It’s a self-discipline that comes from in here.” I tapped my chest. “You recognize it because you have it too. Trust me, I’ve tried to sway her elsewhere, but she won’t be pulled off course, and who am I to take her dream away? I enrolled her at Timber Creek to give her a chance to be a normal teenager. It’s the least I could do, and yes, part of it was selfish because it saves me from having to be a parent. I wanted to give her options, Niles. I wanted to show her there was more out there, just in case. Chloé didn’t want her here, but Chloé lost the privilege of having an opinion when she… Well, that’s another story.

“Constance didn’t want to come either, but I think she’d rather be here than at home with me, so she reluctantly agreed.” I shrugged. “Please don’t judge what you don’t understand, and I’ll try to do the same. We have a lot of months together. I hope we can find common ground. Have a good night, Niles.”

I turned and walked up the aisle. He didn’t call me back. At the auditorium doors, I paused and glanced over my shoulder,catching him staring after me. Niles snapped to attention and slinked offstage with his head down.

A moment later, the vacuous room plunged into darkness. Silence swelled. Instead of leaving, I returned to my seat and self-pity, content to remain the auditorium’s lone occupant all night if I had to. It was hard to envision Constance noticing my absence when she was likely locked in her bedroom practicing her music.

Alone with my thoughts, I tried to grasp hold of the drifting notes that occurred in Niles’s presence, arranging them, humming them, and dissecting the central heart of their song. Eyes closed, I envisioned them on staff paper and created chords and harmonies. I played them on the piano of my thighs.

A noise brought me up short.

The symphony stopped. I cocked an ear and strained my eyes, but the void of the windowless room had no beginning and no end. I floated in an abyss, absent of time and space.

But I was no longer alone.

Shuffling.

Someone sat next to me, and my eyes, adjusted enough to the darkness, barely made out Niles’s form. “You startled me.”

“You didn’t leave.” His soft, unthreatening voice filled the space between us.

“No, I…”

“Midlife crisis?”

I chuckled. “Of sorts.”

“You should go home.”

“I’m not ready to face the teenager.”

“That bad?”

“Worse.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Aren’t you tired of listening to me?”

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