Page 84 of Not Another Love Song

Alex stayed at Juilliard for two more weeks until he dropped out. Lorenz set him up in an apartment in the Village with a boy named Dom who was half a head shorter than him, whose first loves were sugar, video games, and weed, and who was also the first violinist Alex had met in his life who didn’t care if he was getting better at violin, just that he could play.

Dom also didn’t know who Alex Fitzgerald was. Which was good, because Alex was going by Xander now.

Lorenz introduced Dom and Xander to three other guys, placed sheet music in front of them, and told them they had two days until they recorded.

It was the most alive Alex had felt since he was eleven years old and Josh Bell had shaken his hand and said, “Very nice, Alex. Very nice.”

And everything was good. Really good. They were making money. They were making music. And Alex maybe had friends. They were partners still, in a way, but they were friends too. Friends who invited him places. Friends who introduced him to their girlfriends. Friends who asked him his opinions, but who also felt like they could disagree with him.

Things were good until they weren’t. And again, Alex started looking for escape routes. He heard that the Pops were going to be restructuring soon and called his mother for the first time in six years, and asked for a meeting with her and Nathan.

Nathan looked the same, but his mother looked older, with streaks of silver through her dark hair. He said, “I’d like to be considered for first chair when Mom retires.”

His mother brought her fingers to her lips, and Nathan tilted his head, sitting back in his chair with arms crossed. “Really,” he said. Not a question.

But Alex knew Nathan. He knew that Nathan was doing calculations, even if he was trying to look unimpressed. They came to terms. Alex would take over first cello for a few years to make sure he was “a good fit.”

When they shook hands, Alex told him he would need to be Xander Thorne from now on. No slip-ups. He pretended not to notice his mother’s small inhale. Nathan squeezed his hand, and said, “Understood. But Xander Thorne will not be taking over as concertmaster of this orchestra. Alex Fitzgerald will.”

Lorenz wasn’t happy. But Alex signed the contract right then and there in Nathan’s office, forcing Lorenz to reschedule half of the Roses engagements for the following year. It felt good.

So Alex tried. For eight months, he played nice with others. He let Nathan introduce him to the orchestra like he’d found him lying in the street one morning. He let his mother correct him in front of his section. He knew he wasn’t the best team player. He knew that they expected him to be “Alex” for them. On time, professional, and giving a shit. He knew they didn’t like “Xander.” They didn’t have any power over “Xander.” Except the promise of first chair.

And then one morning, while his head was still spinning with the hum of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring,” Nathan told him they would not be offering him concertmaster. Ever.

Alex saw red. He thought of the weeks of his childhood that Nathan had commandeered, expecting him to play through Paganini’s 24 Caprices on tape instead of going to prom. He thought of the engagements Nathan had canceled on his behalf the summer after junior year, so Nathan could take him to shadow the Stockholm symphony. The year of his life he’d just lost, playing first cello in a Pops orchestra. Not even a symphony. A Pops orchestra. Not even worth putting on a resumé.

Alex stood from his chair, pacing, before finally exploding. “You’ve been doing this to me my whole life!”

He looked to his mother for help, and found her staring out the window, fingers over her lips again.

“Alex. We have not been pleased with your attitude or leadership abilities this past year,” Nathan said. “We don’t want to lead you on through another season.”

“Lead me on?” Alex laughed. “Lead me where? Where have you been leading me these past ten years, Nathan? Certainly not to the top. You’ve always kept me from the top.”

Nathan crossed his arms, and Alex could swear he saw a smirk in the corner of his mouth. “And what was supposed to happen here, Alex? You were going to take over first chair? For how long? How long until you got bored and looked for a new path? How did you expect to be satisfied with first chair when you’ve never stuck with something for more than a few years?”

“You know it’s different,” Alex hissed. “You know this is something I’ve wanted forever. Since Uncle Walt—”

“I don’t see how you expected this to go. You’d be giving up Xander Thorne. You’d be giving up your rock career. You know you can’t have both.”

“That’s what I wanted.” He felt the sting behind his eyes, and ran his hands through his hair to hide it, tugging hard. “You know that’s—she knows that’s what I wanted.” He flung an arm in his mother’s direction, but couldn’t look at her. “First chair. Eventually conductor.”

Nathan laughed. “Conductor? Conductor?”

“Joshua Bell is doing it.”

“Oh, and you think you’re Joshua Bell?”

“You used to tell me I was!” Alex shouted. “All the time, you said I was better than Joshua Bell—”

“I’m not sure I ever would have said you were better,” Nathan said softly. Condescendingly.

He had. Often. And he knew he had. Worse, his mother knew he had.

Alex left that room hoping to never see Nathan Andrews again in his life, hoping he’d never need to stare at his smug face again as he gave him a note. Hoping he’d one day see his mother again if she could ever wake up.

And again, he started the task of being happy. He had bandmates. He had an East Coast tour. He had friends who weren’t just partners. He could be happy with the Roses. With Lorenz.

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