Page 148 of Rush: Deluxe Edition

The orchestra, which had become like a second family to me, filled the station with cheers and applause while I sat on the floor, stunned. Joy warred with a deep, deep sorrow that my moment had come and neither my parents nor Noah would be there to hear it.

Our train arrived in Salzburg that morning. Rain splattered the narrow, cobbled streets of the tiny town. Annalie and I perused the shops, many of which sold some sort of Mozart-related kitsch to remind us this was where legend had been born. And every store carried the Mozartkugel chocolate confection in their little red and white tins.

We ate lunch at a charming bistro under the shadow of Hohensalzburg Fortress that sat above the city. The sky looked leaden, and a chill wind whistled through the narrow streets, making me shiver.

“Nervous?” Annalie asked me as we walked back to the hotel.

“No,” I said and smiled ruefully. “Bet you can’t guess who I’m thinking about.”

She slung her arm around my shoulders but didn’t try to cheer me up with empty words. Throughout this tour, she’d become a best friend. Not replacing Melanie—no one could do that. Annalie didn’t need a title. I just added her to the list of people in my life I wanted to know forever.

That night, I wore a black velvet dress with spaghetti straps to allow for arm movement (but a modest neckline), that had sheer black tulle from the knees down. A soloist must stand out from the crowd, so I wore glittering earrings and pulled my hair into a twist to keep it away from my violin.

“Very beautiful,” Annalie told me as I studied myself in the mirror. “Shall I take picture? For your Noah?”

I mustered a smile. She didn’t know Noah was blind because it had never occurred to me—in all these weeks—to tell her.

Because his blindness is only one small part of the man I love.

And I realized then, Noah was seeking that for himself, to define himself apart from his disability. And if he could do that, then maybe it wouldn’t feel like a disability at all.

Oh, my love, I thought. I understand. I really do…

After the short train ride from Munich that morning, I made my way to my Salzburg hotel, shaved, took a shower, dressed. I ordered room service and ate it leisurely, sipping the best coffee I’d ever tasted. I brushed my teeth, gathered my things, and headed out.

The GPS on the new phone Marit found for me in Amsterdam told me where I could buy a new suit. I was sick of the two I’d been wearing all summer. I wanted something new and sharp for Charlotte. Light gray with a vest because I knew she liked vests on me. I let the saleswoman choose the tie. Plum purple, she said, and I thought Charlotte would like that too.

I had the suit sent to the hotel and then continued strolling. Lunch was at a cozy little bistro, also a short walk away. The Salzburg’s downtown district was very small. The worry that I might bump into Charlotte flared up, but then I remembered that was perfectly okay. If I didn’t find her today, then tonight.

I’m going to be with Charlotte tonight.

Before I headed over to her concert, I bought her flowers at a nearby boutique. A dozen red roses. The clerk put them in my hand, and my not-unpleasant anxiety ratcheted up a notch. Every minute that passed brought me closer to her. The thought made my heart clang madly; anticipation shivered over my skin. In a fit of extreme wishful thinking—or maybe cautious foresight—I tucked a small handful of condoms into my jacket pocket at the last minute.

Hey, you never know.

Lucien called me while I was in the cab on the way to the concert venue.

“Noah, the most astounding news,” he said excitedly. “I wandered onto the Vienna Touring Orchestra’s webpage. Their show tonight features Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 5. Our girl is going to be the soloist.”

A laugh gusted out of me, a bubble of happiness, bursting. “Should I tell her you said hello? I’m going to be with her tonight, Lucien. It’s done.”

“Oh, my dear boy. Is it true?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m really fucking good.”

Lucien took a moment to compose himself. “I’m so happy for you, Noah. Truly. And for her. And proud of you both.”

I cleared my throat and tried to sound cavalier. “Yeah, well here’s hoping she doesn’t hate my guts.”

“It is not possible for Charlotte to hate. She hasn’t the capacity.”

That was true. My Charlotte was too full of love. But did she have any left for me? Or had the time apart changed her so that she wasn’t the same girl. What if we weren’t the same together?

Did you wait for me, baby?

At the Mozarteum Concert Hall, my seat was still in the back row, corner. I gave the usher a ten Euro note, the bouquet of roses, and instructions to give it to the soloist after the show.

I clenched the armrests of the chair until my knuckles ached. The program began and Charlotte took the stage; the crowd offered her polite applause. They didn’t know her or what she was capable of. Until she began to play.

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