How could I help her understand? I was at a loss—after all, I wasn’t a musician. I could only relate my own experiences.
Maybe Kaitlyn and Brianne might know what to do. They were both extremely talented and skilled, as much as Kendra was, and surely had been through their own struggles in music. Plus, Brianne was a Beasley music student too. I knew I needed to speak to them.
That evening, the two of them came over for their usual practice time. It was obvious that Kendra was stressing out about the performance. Where their playing had been fairly effortless during all their other practices, today she would constantly stop mid-song, apologize, and ask if they could take it from the top. I was concerned that she would have troubles during the actual show, and I could see that Kaitlyn and Brianne were worried too.
After they finished, I walked the two of them to their cars while Kendra continued to practice.
“Everything okay with Kendra?” Brianne asked. “She’s been having a little trouble playing.”
“Actually,” I said. “I was hoping to speak with you two about that.”
“What’s up?” asked Kaitlyn.
“Kendra is still struggling to deal with the feeling of incompetence she’s had since her falling out with her old mentor, and having to drop out of school.”
“Ahh,” they both said in unison, nodding.
“She feels like she’ll never be able to play well enough. I want her to understand that she isn’t limited by what other people think about her playing, even if it is someone she respects, but she’s trapped in that mindset. I want to help her, but I don’t know what to do.”
“That’s tough,” Kaitlyn said. “I think it’s something every artist goes through. Maybe every creative person. Even the most confident is insecure about their work.”
“Yeah,” Brianne said. “I completely get it. It’s pretty common to see in school.”
“I’m worried that she won’t be able to perform,” I said. “That she’ll freeze up and have an anxiety attack, or something.”
“She played with us before,” Brianne said.
“I think that was different,” I replied. “The circumstances of that night were just right for her to get behind a drum set again. It was spontaneous.”
“No,” Kaitlyn said. “I’m not worried about her.”
“You aren’t?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m certain that she’ll pull through. Being up on stage, in front of the audience, it’s a different energy. The pressure will push her, and the response from the crowd will feed her. I am worried, though, that she could eventually break down if she’s unable to overcome this block.”
“It’s a fragile place to be,” said Brianne.
“What can I do?” I asked. “What can we do?”
“We can’t do anything. I don’t think there’s anything we can say to her that hasn’t already been said.”
“Yeah,” Kaitlyn agreed. “But there is someone who can do something for her.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Her old professor,” said Brianne. “I think if Kendra can get everything off her chest, she’ll have some closure. It doesn’t matter if the professor doubles down on everything she said about her, or if she apologizes. Either way, I think it’ll help Kendra move on.”
Dr. Adler. I somehow needed to convince Kendra to talk to her again. But how?
Suddenly, I had an idea.
“Brianne,” I said. “I need your help.”
9
Kendra
I continued to practice all the way to the afternoon of the show, before a van came to cart my drum set off t