Page 82 of A Master's Destiny
Shaking his head, he growls. “I can’t believe she made you sign away the money and then stole the violin back.”
I shrug, feeling incredibly stupid for believing it would end any differently. “I have no one to blame. I knew she was a snake.”
“What do you think she will do with the violin now?”
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Most likely, the beast will sell it after she burns through this latest chunk of money.” I laugh ruefully. “That, or she’ll keep it in the hopes that she can dupe me again.”
Anderson looks at me with compassion. “What are you going to do now, buddy?”
Feeling like death warmed over, I shut my eyes and groan. “I suppose I’ll call Master Nosh in the morning and see if I can convince him to let me continue despite missing class tonight.” I snort, opening my eyes again. “Wouldn’t it be funny if I get kicked out of the program because of her?”
“No. It would not be funny at all,” he answers seriously.
I stand up, muttering, “Well, I feel like crap and can’t think straight. I’m headed to bed and will deal with it in the morning.”
“Before you go, drink this,” Anderson insists, running to the kitchen to get a jug out of the refrigerator. “It’s got electrolytes.”
I gulp down the slightly salty fruit drink and thank him.
As I lie in the dark, I find myself struggling to fall asleep. I can’t stop thinking about my father’s violin. Tears roll silently down my cheeks as I mourn the fact that I will never see it—or him—ever again.
To my relief, Master Nosh allows me to attend class the next day but insists on speaking to me at the end of the evening.
I follow him to his office, and he orders me to sit down.
“The trainers and I found your absence last night particularly disturbing, and it’s caused us to seriously question your commitment to the program.”
“I assure you last night had nothing to do with my commitment to the program.”
“Explain.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “To be honest, I’m afraid my answer might incriminate and not exonerate me.”
“I hear you speaking in judicial terms, but I am not the law, Mr. Davis. I am simply asking for the truth. Whatever you say will remain within the walls of this establishment.”
I look at Master Nosh, desperate to tell him what happened last night—Ineedhim to believe me—but I am fearful he won’t, and my mother will win again.
“I’m waiting,” Master Nosh states impatiently.
“You once told me that you must know a person’s history to understand their actions.”
He nods.
“I want you to understand my history—all of it. Only then will you be able to understand what happened last night.”
Without hesitation, he says, “Tell me.”
I spent the next hour sharing details about my family and my life growing up. Even details I kept from my therapists after my father’s death. There is something timeless and reassuring about Master Nosh’s character that inspires me to be open. I have no feeling of being judged and tell him my life story without hesitation or shame, being brutally honest about myself.
Nothing I say seems to surprise him, and I begin to wonder how much he already knows about my past. Once I’ve shared my background, I feel free to hold nothing back when I tell what happened the night before.
When I am done, I confess to him, “I realize I was a fool to trust my mother, but the woman understands me well enough to know I would do anything to own that piece of my father again.”
“I do not judge your decision,” he tells me. “However, I am curious about how you plan to move on from it.”
I frown, confused by the question. “I plan to move forward—the same as I have been doing all along. I know my path, and I will not stray from it.”
He tilts his head. “So, you are not going to seek revenge?”
