Page 16 of Counterpoint and Harmony

My focus is shit for the next week. I barely make any progress in the practice room, despite spending the same number of hours there. After seeing Charlie, talking to her, all my memories of her are fresh and raw, unable to be shoved aside. So every time I sit down to play, I remember playing with her in the piano majors’ practice room. Goofing off, playing silly simple songs just for fun. Like when we played Twinkle Twinkle Little Star as a round then tried playing other beginner tunes as rounds. Everything from Mary Had a Little Lamb to Happy Birthday. That one didn’t work so well.

Her laugh, her smile, flash in my mind as I play my scales, making my fingers slip, my bow pull at an angle instead of straight across the string. Worse, sliding my fingers up and down the strings during my concerto makes me remember sliding my fingers up and down her skin. The sounds she made as musical as the ones I pull from my cello.

By the time I have my lesson on Thursday, I’m playing worse than ever.

“What’s wrong with you today, Damian?” Dr. Weber, the cello professor, asks me after I flubbed the recap for the third time in a row. “I know you have this memorized. You played it perfectly on the recording for the competition. Is something going on?”

Sighing, I let my bow fall to my side, leaning my chest against my cello in defeat. “I’m just … tired.” That’s the best explanation I can come up with.

Dr. Weber gives me a speculative look. He knows about Charlie and me. Who doesn’t? But what he knows is more from the department gossip mill than from me sharing. We don’t really do that.

But that means he also knows that she had a little performance in town at a small venue the day after Lauren’s recital. She put out a message on her social media platforms two hours beforehand and emailed her fan club to invite anyone in the area. She only charged thirty dollars to get in and donated the money to charity.

According to the news, it was packed. Standing room only. Security had to turn people away or risk the fire marshal shutting them down. Even then, Charlie had them open the doors and put speakers outside so people could gather in the parking lot and still hear.

I almost went. But I knew I’d hate it. Hate the crowd. Hate being so close to her without being able to speak to her, touch her, have her acknowledge that I was there. And there was no way I’d try to use my connection to Lauren to get me back to see her. Not after the way things went the night before.

She wouldn’t even look at me before I got out of the car.

No, she wouldn’t have wanted to see me. And again, it’s my own fault.

Dr. Weber doesn’t say anything about Charlie, though. “Let’s try the recap again. Start the last two bars of the development.”

With a nod, I set the bow on the string. Glancing at the music, I find the measure where he wants me to start, then close my eyes and play. I make it a little farther into the recap before faltering, but I still don’t play it like I know I can. Like I should be able to. My head just isn’t here.

Dr. Weber takes a deep breath through his nose and lets it out, then crosses his arms. He glances at the clock then back at me. “Why don’t we wrap it up for the day. Take the week to work through whatever’s going on. We’ll try again next week. Sound good?”

I nod, both relieved and annoyed that he’s cutting my lesson fifteen minutes short. But there’s no way I’m getting anything done today.

After packing up my cello, I carry it to a practice room, more out of habit than any actual intention of practicing. What’s the point? I haven’t had a good practice session all week. I sucked in orchestra rehearsal on Tuesday, faking my way through it and relying on my stand partner to make us look good. She’d given me weird looks when I messed up easy stuff but hadn’t said anything.

I have rehearsal this afternoon. I need to be able to play.

So I do the only thing I can think of to clear my head.

I pull out my phone and send a text to Charlie.

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