Page 1 of Heart Strings

Chapter One

Abigail

Gregorian chants were first used in: A) The Middle Ages, B) The Renaissance, C) The Baroque Era, D) The Romantic Era, or E) The Twentieth Century. Obviously, not the Twentieth Century but beyond that… I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?

Luckily, this was just a practice quiz for my Music History class at Tulane University’s Conservatory, so I didn’t actually need to know just yet. Honestly, I felt like I shouldn’t need to know this at all - I played classical piano, and Gregorian chants, whatever they were, probably had nothing to do with the evolution of piano music. However, I did need good grades, so I’d better get to searching for that term.

I highlighted it and copied it, but my concentration had been broken, and now the sound of voices distracted me from pasting it into the search bar. Looking up from my comfy armchair in the corner, I gazed around at the mismatched furniture of the Kappa Omega Epsilon Sorority house and found my two best friends chatting on one of the big sofas.

I hadn’t been paying any attention to anything Maggie and Zoe had been saying for the past several minutes, but it didn’t take me long to catch up with the conversation. Zoe had boys on her mind, as usual, and Maggie was complaining about something - also as usual. This time, her mother had used her full name - Magnolia - on a card she had sent her daughter. Still, she had a point with what she had just said about family.

“You’re lucky your family lives right here in New Orleans,” I said, reinserting myself into the conversation with a comment directed at Zoe, whose parents lived half an hour from Tulane University.

Zoe neatly turned my comment into a joking jab at Maggie instead of replying to it. I knew family was a slightly touchy subject with her, now that she was so close to graduating and attending Tulane Law School. She had a lot to live up to, and her parents’ close proximity definitely added some stress she didn’t need or want.

So, instead of pursuing the matter, I joined in, poking fun at Maggie until she rolled her eyes at us and flounced into the kitchen to grab a snack.

“You’re still invited to my dad’s costume party tonight,” Zoe told me, her voice hopeful.

“I can’t,” I reminded her. “I have work tonight.” I had made the decision not to take off work for this party weeks ago, but suddenly I found myself regretting it. Ordinarily, I liked my job at Le Coin Musical, a bar in the French Quarter. Working evenings as a full-time university student wore on me sometimes when I had to get up for those early classes I had twice a week, but playing the piano to a clientele that was mostly there to drink certainly wasn’t a particularly difficult job. While the pieces I played usually weren’t all that difficult and didn’t tease forth the complexities of classical piano, they were still decent practice.

“-Abigail could still have a hot pianist walk into the bar and request songs or something.”

I had gone back to my Music History question, but hearing my name snapped me back again.Yeah right,I scoffed even as I laughed and played along with my friends’ cheerful joking. I got hit on every single night, and self-labeled “pianists” had approached me before. The horrific clashing coming from the piano had prompted the owner of the bar to instruct me not to let anyone else play the piano and tell me that if I wanted to flirt, to take it away from the instruments.

He didn’t tell me not to flirt at all, of course. Any reason was a good reason to get returning customers - even if that reason was to watch his hired pianist and ogle her while she played.

I didn’t really care. I needed money, and I’d just continue to consider it a sort of compliment that people came to see me play, even if it was only to stare at my booty while I sat on the piano bench.

This most recent bout of joking amongst us three ended in Zoe impersonating a princess (her curtsy was decent, actually) and asking us to help her get ready.

Anything to get me away from Music History - my quiz wasn’t even until Monday, and today was only Fat Tuesday. You know, the last day of Mardi Gras week. A time for students to relax and have some fun, not stress over Gregorian chants and go to work.

Work, I couldn’t escape just yet, but Gregorian chants could wait a day or two. I closed my laptop, left it on one of the many tables around the room, and headed upstairs to help Zoe turn into the princess that would be her costume at her party tonight. Maggie and I sat Zoe down in the large bathroom and headed down the hall to the second-floor bedroom that we all shared to gather clothes, her mask and a few extra little makeup supplies we kept hidden from the rest of the KOE sisters. In a house with very little privacy, every girl had her hidden stash of personal belongings somewhere…and Maggie and I were going all out on Zoe’s makeup for tonight.

It’s amazing how something so simple can be so therapeutic,I mused as I gently worked at Zoe’s face with a brush and felt my stress melt away under the cheerful banter of my two friends. Sometimes, I felt like many students had an outlet for their frustrations that I and other students of music didn’t - using their hands as a way to do something different from what they usually did. “Mind over body” was the saying, and most college students used their minds a lot more than their bodies, staying up late at night prodding their minds for answers.

Not so much for me, though. I played classical piano, and I played it a lot. I practiced on the grand pianos in the Conservatory, at home on my electric keyboard and even at work on the grand piano at the bar. My hands had to be limber, alert, untiring, but my mind also had to work through classes like Music History and Music Composition. Sometimes, it was hard to find things that felt different from what I had to do on a daily basis - it was hard to find a mental and physical break.

Makeup took some coordination and some concentration, but it felt…good. It felt good to do something for someone else voluntarily, something I already knew how to do and didn’t need to learn to do better.

Maybe that’s the secret. I need to do more things I’m good at.But I was good at playing the piano…there was just a lot of stress associated with that right now. Really, I just needed to graduate from Tulane University. Maggie, Zoe and I were all so close. If all went to plan and everyone made the grades they needed, we should all graduate this summer in just a few short months.

Maggie and I refused to let Zoe see her makeup until she put on her deep green dress, and when we finally allowed her to turn to the mirror and see our handiwork, she let out an excited squeal. “This is so perfect! But I wish you were both coming.”

I wish we were too.I didn’t feel jealous, not exactly. A long time ago, I’d learned to accept that Zoe had the money and time to do things Maggie and I couldn’t - and I did feel a little…left out. Zoe was heading out to this great Mardi Gras party, Maggie was going home to watch the parade in her hometown with her family, and I…I would just go to work and play jazz music for the people who wanted to spend their Fat Tuesday at the bottom of a bottle.

Quickly, I managed to shake away such sour thoughts. There was no reason to ruin my friends’ fun just because I regretted not taking the evening off. It was with a genuine smile that I waved goodbye to Zoe as she stepped delicately into the limo her father had sent and pulled away, shortly disappearing around the corner.

Maggie tapped her phone and widened her eyes at the time that popped up. “Wow, I’ve got to hurry.”

“Do you want any - help,” I tacked onto the end as Maggie disappeared into the house and thumped loudly up the stairs. “Guess not.” I sat down in my beanbag again, listening to loud footsteps jog back and forth upstairs, accompanied occasionally by muttered lists of items Maggie wanted to bring or had already packed.

Twenty minutes later, Maggie hurriedly made her way down the stairs, a heavy bag banging against the railings with every step. I hopped up to open the door for her. “See you…?” I trailed off, unsure when she’d be back.

“Thursday, I think? I’ll text you,” she called back as she gave the door a nudge with her bag, swinging it mostly shut.

I sighed and pulled it fully closed, then just stood there. Suddenly, it was so…quiet. This house with its many rooms, huge living room, big kitchen and multi-sink bathrooms never seemed very large - but then, there were usually at least five girls home at all times.

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