Page 83 of Unrecognizable Player

“You could play the violin for me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“You don’t have to pretend to like my playing, I know it’s not to everyone’s-”

“Who said I was pretending? Stef, you were incredible at the restaurant that night. I wish I’d been to see one of your performances earlier. I can’t get enough.”

Something familiar and unpleasant churns in my stomach. “I’m glad you haven’t seen my performances.”

“Why?”

“Because, I feel comfortable when I perform at the restaurant, but when I perform with the orchestra, I’m a mess.”

He sits back down, zeroing in on me.

“You don’t like playing with the orchestra?”

“It’s not that. I enjoy rehearsals, and I love playing music with all those amazing musicians, especially Alice. It’s the performing I hate. The pressure. The stuffiness of the setting. It reminds me of-” I trail off, feeling my palms start to sweat and my fingers tingle.

“It reminds me of my audition for Julliard.”

He nods. Waiting for me to go on.

I take a deep breath and wipe my sweaty palms on the comforter.

“I spent my whole life, or - as long as I can remember - prepping for my Julliard audition. I had posters and all kinds stuck up on my side of the room I shared with Ari. It’s all me and my mom could talk about. While we were riding the subway to lessons, or while she was making dinner, or supervising my homework. A day never went by without us talking about Julliard. It started to be like a family saying.It’ll be good preparation for Julliard.

A couple of weeks before the audition, I couldn’t sleep properly. I had the symptoms of a stomach bug, but the doctor said there was nothing wrong with me. I was getting palpitations and hyperventilating. My music teacher told my mom it was normal to be this nervous and I’d get through it. But then the audition came and I couldn’t stop puking. My hands were sweating, my fingers tingling. My hands starting to cramp up.” I try to show him by making claws with my fingers. “I thought I was gonna have a heart attack. I couldn’t breathe. But I’d waited my whole life for this, and I knew, if you blow your chance at Julliard, you don’t get a second one.

I went out onto the stage, sweat dripping down my face, barely able to breathe, and I fucked it up. I choked.”

Alexei reaches over and squeezes my hand.

“I walked off the stage and I just collapsed in a heap. I thought my life was over. Everything I’d worked towards, gone, in a couple of minutes.”

The memory makes my throat feel tight and my eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“Fuck Stef, I’m sorry that happened.”

I wipe my face, sniffling up any rogue tears that might want to make an appearance. “Aren’t you gonna tell me it just wasn’t meant to be?”

“Nope. People say that to me all the time about my injury.It wasn’t meant to be.Well, is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn’t. My life ended that day on the ice, and I’m never getting back my shot at the NHL, or the ability to take care of my family easily for the rest of my life, or the chance to live out my dreams. So I know how you feel. It’s not easy to get over, but you’re so much better than Julliard Stef.”

Hearing Alexei talk about his life ending like that puts what happened to me that day at Julliard into perspective a little.

“Your life didn’t end Alexei.”

“Didn’t it? Now instead of playing hockey and retiring in my thirties, I have to go to work for some evil bank for the rest of my life.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

He tightens his grip on my hand before letting go. I think I’ve pushed it too far. That he’s gonna back off again, but he stays sitting where he is, his face softening a little.

“I applied for internships in the NHL.”

I catch the smile twitching in the corners of his lips. I know that smile. He’s scared to want something, but he wants it anyway. “Really?”

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