Page 13 of Broken Chords

Chapter Six

Deceptive cadence:the most dramatic of any individual chord progression, where the chords move from dominant (V) to submediant (vi), rather than from dominant (V) to tonic (I) as expected.

Charlie

Damian and I have dinner together again on Thursday and spend a few hours in the instrumental rehearsal room playing through more music, which ends with more kissing. Friday is different, though. The university is hosting the Helios Quartet as a visiting artist, and Damian got us tickets.

I offered to pay for mine, feeling weird about letting him cover everything since I know I can afford it easier than he can, but he insisted.

We walk into the music building hand in hand after dinner at a fancy restaurant. He even made reservations. I’ve never had a guy go to this much trouble before. Usually our PR people would set up all the public appearances, including the restaurant reservations and organizing our activities. All we had to do was show up.

Nerves and excitement flutter through me every time I think about tonight and him and what all this means. This is our third date. And even in my string of fake and slightly-less-fake relationships, that’s a milestone. Damian’s been stepping up the touching with more kissing, even more tonight than last night. He kissed me hello, and before getting out of the car at the restaurant, and again after dinner. Plus hand holding, escorting me around with his hand on my low back, keeping me close to his side as we walk into the recital hall and get programs.

I shaved everything tonight in anticipation, and that seems to have been the right decision. Because I definitely think things will be moving to the next level tonight.

A grin comes to my face, and I squirm a little in my seat as we settle in. Damian glances over at me, and I beam a smile at him. He smiles back and reaches over the armrest to hold my hand, letting go so we can clap at the appropriate intervals.

I’m glad that he’s holding my hand, though, because apparently there are rules about clapping that I’m unfamiliar with. This is only my second recital—the first one was the faculty recital the first week of classes. That time we clapped after every performer.

The string quartet is playing multi-movement works, and I guess we don’t clap between movements. Someone started to after the first movement, and a few others joined in, but it quickly died out when the performers gave tight smiles of acknowledgment and kept their instruments up and ready to play.

At first I’m relieved that there are only a few pieces on the program, looking forward to the post-recital portion of the evening, but each piece seems to go on forever, making the recital last nearly two hours including the intermission.

After realizing that we’ll be here a while, I settle in to enjoy the music. It really is beautiful, and I especially love the last pieceAdagio for Stringsby Samuel Barber. When it ends, the full recital hall gives the quartet a standing ovation. The performers’ faces beam at us as they stand and bow together.

After they leave the stage, the lights come up, and I start looking around for a professor, so I can get my program signed and we can decide where to go next—Damian’s place or mine. Damian’s fingers wrap around mine again, and he starts to tug me to the aisle. As if reading my mind, he bends his head close to my ear. “Since we have paid tickets, you don’t need to get a professor’s signature. You just staple your ticket stub to the program when you turn it in, and you’re good. Come on. Let’s go see if we can talk to them for a few minutes when they come out.”

“Perfect.”

We mill around in the lobby while waiting for the quartet to come out. I keep looking around, hoping they’ll come out sooner than later. Just when I’m about to suggest that maybe we can go without talking to the performers, Zeke and Jason come over to say hi. Lauren waves and comes over too, Tamara and Madison, two of her friends that I’ve met before, following behind her. Once everyone is ensconced in conversation ranging from their opinions on the performance to their orchestra repertoire and a paper due soon in Music History, Lauren sidles closer to me. “Things are going well with you and Damian?”

Taking a tiny step back, I angle my body closer to her so that our conversation is less likely to be picked up on by the others, my giddy smile irrepressible. “It is.” I want to say a lot more than that, but not with everyone around.

Damian’s hand reaches out and wraps around my waist, pulling me closer to his side. Yeah, tonight is definitely a step up in where our relationship is heading.

Eyes dancing with mischief, Lauren leans in close enough to speak directly into my ear. “I’ll be in the practice room after this. Probably for an hour or two. Let me know when it’s safe to come home.”

“What’s all this girl talk going on over here?” Zeke’s booming voice cuts in. “Why’s Charlie blushing?” He points at Damian, Lauren, and me. “What’s going on?”

Lauren laughs, and gives him what I’m starting to realize is her signature eyebrow arch. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yeah, I would.” Zeke’s tone sounds like he’s talking to a preschooler. “That’s why I asked.”

But I’m saved from having to answer by the quartet coming out into the lobby. “Oh, look.” I point in the direction of the four string players who’re scanning the crowd. The department head approaches them and shakes their hands one by one. “Didn’t you want to talk to them, Damian?”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

With his arm still around my waist, he guides me in that direction. Lauren’s huge grin catches my eye as we move away from our group, and I grin back. Both of us ignore Zeke’s exclamation of, “Hey! Wait!”

Damian approaches the cellist first, another tall, thin man, this one several years older, with pale skin and short, medium brown hair. His eyes light up as we approach, and he extends his hand to us. Damian’s arm drops from my waist so he can shake his hand. “Great performance tonight.”

“Thank you,” he says, giving Damian’s hand a firm pump before turning to me and shaking my hand. “Thank you both for coming. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He releases my hand and sticks his hands in his pockets. “You both students here?”

I nod as Damian says, “Yeah. I play cello, and Charlie plays piano.”

“Nice.” The two of them chat about cello things, and I scan the room. The second violinist, a pretty woman in a full black skirt and sleeveless top with a scattering of sparkly beads that shimmered under the stage lights, sees me glancing around and comes over to say hi.

We chat for a few minutes while Damian finishes up his conversation, then someone else comes up to congratulate her on her performance and claims her attention.

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