Taylor glanced over her shoulder at Javier then looked back, eyebrows raised. She leaned in and whispered, “Why? What happened?” It really was none of her business at all and I had no obligation to tell her.
I shook my head again. “I’m just telling you, he’s so immature. Like, he’d rather sit up all night playing video games and talking about some coding project he’s doing than even think about his future.”
Taylor—two years my junior at 23 years old—scoffed at me and rolled her eyes. “Isn’t that what all 25-year-old men do?”
I swore if she could toss her hair she would, but she’d used so much product on the pixie cut it remained stock-still—like Sonic the Hedgehog’s blue spikes. Of course, she would be okay with dating a child. She, herself, had no need to take life seriously. I looked around at the other members of this orchestra. A few of them were much older, retirees even, but the majority came in around the ages of 25-30. Most of them were married, had careers and lives already.
Taylor had lucked into an audition to play with the symphony and had done so well they offered a position right away, straight out of high school. I, however, had not been as lucky. The full-ride scholarship to Juilliard had come because of my mother’s connections, and I had to work my ass off every day to make sure I did well. What was child’s play for people like Taylor and Javier, was hundreds of hours of dedication and commitment. I’d given my all to this art, and it had paid off.
“Fuck, you mean to tell me you’re doing that snooty-patootie first-chair violin act?” She signed a breathy, heavy sigh meant to judge me, but I squared my shoulders. I wouldn't let her make me feel like less of a person simply because my idea of what relationship should be didn’t match up with hers. I was tired. I just wanted to go home.
“What I’m doing is realizing that I need a man who understands the hard work I’ve done to get where I am. I can’t sit up all night playing video games when I need to practice. And I want a man who takes his life seriously. Someone who has their act together and wants to do things with their talent.” I adjusted the strap that fell across my chest and swallowed hard. I didn’t have to defend myself to Taylor, friend or not. But I found myself doing just that.
I was so heated by that point I hardly noticed Javier walking up. His long dark hair had been tied back into a ponytail, revealing the chiseled jawline I had originally swooned at. The tall, dark, and handsome act had worked on me for almost three years, but after graduation, I knew I needed something more. Scoring first chair had been my big break. I had shows lined up for months now, all over the world, and I needed to focus.
“So, I suppose you should just come get your things.” His tone was cold, slicing through my heart. I hadn’t intended to hurt him, though I suspected he was angry because I hadn’t taken time to explain my reasoning.
I kicked at the corner of a square of Berber that had rolled up a little. Taylor glared at me, and I looked down at my feet, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I shouldn’t even feel this bad, but I always carried a guilty conscience. Call it a sign that I lived with a narcissistic mother who made me believe everything was my fault.
“Yeah.” I couldn’t look up at him. I wasn’t sure what I even felt for him anymore. I wanted to say I loved him still, but maybe I wasn’t ever in love with him. Some relationships were like that. One-sided.
“You don’t have to do this.” Javier stepped closer. I noticed his deck shoes edge nearer in my periphery, but I didn’t look up. I also noticed Taylor’s Rocket Dogs take a step backward.
“I do.” My hands were sweaty, gripping the strap to my violin case as if it were a life preserver and I was drowning in the ocean. That’s how I felt anyway—like I was drowning. “I have to focus.”
“So, you get first chair and now you don’t have time for love?”
I let Javier’s question hang in the air until he walked away, at which point I turned to see him shuffle out the door, shoulders slumped. He was hurting and it was my fault, but he’d be better off without me. He needed someone like Taylor, who loved gaming and goofing off as much as him. Neither one of them even had to practice being as good as they were.
I, on the other hand, practiced until my fingers were blue and almost bleeding some nights.
Taylor was still scowling at me when I looked back at her. “What?”
“You may as well date Edgar.” Taylor’s foot was tapping again, and just in time for the older man to stroll past and grin at me. His combover hair looked like it was plastered to his head with gel, shiny and crusted. He had a bit of fuzz in his beard, and his shoes clashed with his jacket.
Edgar was an investment banker with a wallet padded enough to dazzle even the most couture of women. However, Edgar was nearly forty and not interesting to me. Divorced twice already, I decided he joined the orchestra just to meet a woman, and I was not that woman. While I didn’t have a problem dating someone older than me, I did have a problem dating someone who wanted a trophy wife. I needed to be taken seriously. My goals and dreams were all I had.
I smiled at Edgar and wiggled my fingers in a polite wave before glowering at Taylor. “I’m not really in the market right now. I have NYC, London, even Paris all looking at me. I have to focus. I don’t have time for a relationship. Okay?”
I turned abruptly and walked away. Taylor and I were not the sort of friends who traded love stories and swapped sex details. I could see us being that maybe, but not if she couldn’t respect my decisions. I tried to put as much distance between me and my problems as I could normally. In this case it meant going home to stew, have a drink and maybe eat some ice cream while soaking in a hot bath.
This time as I walked away, she did not follow, and for that I was grateful. The few moments of peace and quiet I had walking to the subway were priceless some nights. Tonight, the crisp fall air and the hint of chill creeping in was my only companion. If I could just focus on the next few shows, I would begin to gain the reputation I wanted. Zina had taken a chance on me, and I would not let her down.
Now if only I could convince my heart I didn’t need a man in my life to get by. That was the hardest part. Since I was just a teenager I’d felt this stabbing, lonely emptiness in my chest, like part of my soul was missing. My therapist—who I stopped seeing because it wasn’t helping—told me it was a “father wound.” She said because my father had deserted me and my mother when I was very young, I would always have this need for someone to fill that spot.
I’d tried to ignore that and prove I could be independent, but anymore I felt like I was failing. Maybe being dependent on a man wasn’t a horrible idea. But depending on Javier was never going to work. He wasn't a man. He was a child trapped in a man’s body, and I needed so much more.
I was almost to the subway entrance when Taylor rushed up and accosted me. With an arm hooked around my elbow, she tugged me past the steps to the tunnels below the city.
“You’re coming with me. I’m sorry I was a bitch. I should have comforted you. Let’s go get some wine and you can tell me your sob story.” Taylor was only trying to brighten my day a little, and she would save me from drinking alone at least. “We are going to go get plastered and talk about boys, and maybe you’ll see someone you like, and I can play wingman.”
I smiled, unable to pull away from her. I didn’t want to go home and be alone, so I didn’t even fight her. Drinking wine with a friend was better than drinking wine in a bathtub alone. Besides, heartbreak was even worse when you were lonely. Bethany was out of town this evening, so I didn’t mind drinking with Taylor.
We wound up finding a nice Peruvian restaurant at the Green and settling into a corner booth where we had a bit of privacy. It wasn’t my style, but Taylor had a hunger for all things high class. And all I wanted was the wine, so it didn't matter much where we went. We joked and laughed, and at one point the waiter asked us to quiet down a bit. But what really got me was when I looked across the room at the most handsome man I’d ever seen.
It took a moment for my memory to trigger, but when it did, my heart burst out of my chest.
Victor Beringher. In the flesh.