Page 28 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“You’re probably right.” Her voice was muffled against my chest. “Now I just have to stop sucking on that Vivaldi piece,” she grumbled.

“You just need practice,” I soothed. “I think you’ve played enough today though. Why don’t we watch some mindless show on TV, eat those cinnamon breadsticks, and be lazy the rest of the night?”

“First you want me to play, now you don’t.” She stared at me with a confused look.

“I’m glad you’re playing again, but it’s always all or nothing with you. I have to leave tomorrow. Maybe I want these last few hours to just be about us.” I pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“Who’s going to bring me pizza and make me stop practicing if you leave tomorrow?” She pouted.

“I’m working on that,” I mumbled as I pulled her next to me. What she didn’t know was I’d been on the phone all afternoon with my contacts in New York trying to get an audition set up for her. I didn’t want to leave her here anymore than she wanted me to, but I needed to give her a reason to follow me.

Chapter 18

Aspen

It was really happening. Bryson was leaving. I knew he couldn’t stay forever, but I didn’t realize a week could go by so fast. “I’ll call you when I get home to make sure you’re taking breaks.” He chuckled as he squeezed my hand.

“You know I don’t take breaks until I get it right.” I smiled up at him. We’d been standing here on the sidewalk for the last ten minutes saying goodbye.

“You know you could come with me?” he tried again. He’d asked me at least five times since last night to come with him.

“I don’t have anything there,” I murmured. All of my things and my life were here.

“We could find you something though. You’d have a fresh start.” His head dropped and his chin rested on top of my head.

“Please don’t make this harder.” I sighed. I’d been back and forth all night with this decision. I hadn’t heard anything from the New York Symphony, and I didn’t want to go all the way there just to be let down.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I gotta go. I’ll call you tonight.” He took a few steps back, and then rushed forward to give me one last hug before climbing into his car. He rolled down the window to wave, and then pulled away from the curb, leaving me there.

I watched until he turned the corner heading to the interstate. It was a warm summer day, and I should be happy. The sun was out and my life was normal again, if I could ever have considered it normal. All I could feel was sadness. Bryson had come in and ripped the bandage off my wounds and healed them in the process, but now I was here alone again and trying to decide where I wanted my life to go. Was I ready to be a concert pianist with performances nightly? Did I want that life in NewYork? Was it as golden of a future as Bryson was painting it to be?

As promised, he called when he got home, and every night after that. Sometimes it was late because he’d have a gig somewhere. He looked so tired when we Facetimed that I wondered if he ever slept. He gave a me tour of his apartment, and a few times he took walks around the city. The days melted into weeks, and the longer we did this, the more I asked myself why?

One day in the fall, I got a letter inviting me to audition for a role as an alternate. It wasn’t full time work, but they wanted to see what I had. I spent days practicing and getting myself back into playing shape. It was hard work, and there were many nights that I thought my hands would fall off. I took a leave of absence from my job and packed a bag to take a train to New York.

When I stepped on the train I had the weird sense of déjà vu. I remembered riding with my dad when I went to audition for summer camp. I had that same nervous energy, only this time there was no one there to calm me.

I watched out the window as buildings, and countryside blurred by. I tried to close my eyes, but my brain just wasn’t allowing it. When we came to a stop, I grabbed my music bagand stood. Patrons rushed off in different directions creating quite a commotion. I stepped onto the platform and just watched. There were a few buskers in the station playing various instruments. I dropped a few bills in their cases as I passed.

When I stepped out onto the sidewalks of the city, I watched in amazement. I hadn’t been here since high school, and I’d all but forgotten the pure massiveness of New York City. Boston was nothing to sneeze at, but I grew up there so as large as it was, it seemed small. This was just breathtaking.

I hailed a cab and rattled off the address where I was supposed to meet the team for my audition. It was in a little theater in the Broadway section. I watched the marquees as we made our way down the streets and imagined that one day I might be up there. My dad was once, and I have a picture of the sign at home from when he sent it to me. I was eight at the time, and it was one of my most prized possessions.

“Here ya go, miss.” The cabbie stopped. I was lost in thought and didn’t even realize we were there. I handed him some bills and climbed out. I swallowed as I looked up at the illuminated signs. This was it. The moment when my life could change. At one time this was all I thought about. I swallowed the lump in my throat before heaving the giant door open.

It was dark inside, but I could hear voices in the distance. I lifted my music bag higher on my shoulder as I followed the sound. When I rounded the corner, there was a small stage with a row of chairs nearby. One man dressed in all black stood and faced me. “Aspen Vaughn?” He nodded.

“That’s me.” I smiled as I held my hand out to shake his.

“Do you remember me?” He smiled softly. He looked to be in his late seventies, white hair perfectly combed, small wire frame glasses perched on his nose. I thought for a moment. Should I remember him? “Does this help?” He moved closer andhis face went blank, then he narrowed his eyes. “You have to sit up straighter if you want to have the control you need.”

The wheels in my head started turning. Those words… I knew those words. “Mr. Caldwell?”

“One in the same. It’s good to see you again.” He sat back down with the other two gentlemen.

“Same.” I smiled. Mr. Caldwell was one of the top instructors at the Julliard Consortium. I’d worked with him my high school years. He only took the top students, and after all the time I’ve wasted over the years, I felt guilty now playing in front of him.

“What have you brought for us today?” He crossed his legs and sat back.

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