Page 29 of Heart Strings

Chapter Thirteen

Abigail

I had thought I was through with this, but I guess I was wrong.

Hiccuping, I swiped yet another trail of fresh tears out of my eyes. The salty little droplets had managed to visit almost every inch of skin on my face, leaving puffy red trails in their wake that only a blind person would fail to notice.I don’t have time for this.Angrily, I gave annihilating the manifestations of sadness another go. Whenever I removed the traces of one tear, another leaked from the bloodshot corners of my eyes to join it.

It had been five days since I told Al we couldn’t be together. I had passed all my classes and been approved for graduation, and now it was late May - a time I should have been celebrating, like many other university students.

I just couldn’t bring myself to feel any sort of accomplishment for two reasons. First, I still had my audition - that was today, in fact. Second…I may have gained some accomplishments, but I had lost something else.

Someone else.The correction wrung yet more tears out of the sopping towel of sadness I had devolved into. I had lost Al.

It had taken me so long to make that call. Every day after I realized we couldn’t work had driven home a spike of guilt in my heart with every text and call I ignored. I couldn’t answer and speak normally, knowing what I did, but I couldn’t tell him the truth either.

So, instead, I had left Al to his questions, confusion and doubts. By the time I called him and told him what I was feeling, it was probably too late. He probably already hated me for stringing him along.

I dragged my nails at my cheeks, staring into the puffy depths of my eyes. I missed everything about Al so much. I missed the bits of Spanish he threw into his sentences, the warmth of his body against my hands, his suggestive joking, our conversations, the feeling of his eyes on me - everything. Sometimes I missed him so much that I had to wrap my arms around my stomach and hold myself like I might fall to pieces if I didn’t.

But…I had made the right decision. I had gone to the Voodoo queen and spoken to her, asking her to connect me with my great-grandmother’s spirit, and she had comforted me. One day, when I had put some time between me and my broken heart, everything would be okay, and I would realize my fate.

I managed to regain enough conviction to stop the flow of tears. Sniffing with the aftermath of my sobs, I took out several bags of makeup from the cabinets and set them on the counter. Maybe if I could make myself look like a beautiful concert pianist, I would feel more like one and not a broken-hearted teenager.

Forty-five minutes later, I eyed my handiwork in the bathroom mirror. Not bad. I looked a little tired, but my cheeks weren’t swollen from crying, and I had hidden the redness well enough. I could work with this.

I slipped on the black palazzo-pants, white blouse and black jacket that I had bought specifically for this audition after my piano tutor had recommended it. A fairly plain black outfit was standard for most orchestras, and my tutor had told me that the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra was no different. My selection would give me a hint of style while also conforming perfectly to the orchestra’s standards. When I got the position, I would look into getting a few suits of different styles so I could mix and match a little.

The clothes reminded me of shopping, and clothes shopping reminded me of Miami, and Miami reminded me of Al. I had to quickly throw on my shoes and drape a purse over my shoulder so I could rush out the door before my eyes could turn on the waterworks again.

Zoe gave me a sympathetic look from her seat on the couch, but she just called, “Good luck!” before I tugged the door shut behind me. She and Maggie had both been there for me this entire week, distracting me with girls-only dinner dates and trips to places around New Orleans. It had helped - until I lay in my bed at night, wracked with sobs that I muffled with a permanently-soaked pillow.

The Uber I had ordered arrived within the minute, and then I was on my way to the building in downtown where the auctions were held. Ensconced in the back seat, I took deep breaths, holding my purse and focusing only on the three pieces I would play today. I knew them inside out, up and down, backward and forward, and my fingers knew them just as well as my brain. Even if my mind froze up, my fingers would carry on.

I hoped. The thing about auditioning to be a pianist anywhere was the stiff competition. The piano wasn’t like the violin or the flute. An orchestra might hire several flutists and violinists, but it would only choose one pianist. My performance had to be exceptional because several other music students from the Tulane Conservatory of Music would be there today, vying for that single position.

My driver found the building easily and dropped me off. I walked inside, found the registration desk and joined a short line.

“Hello. Which instrument are you auditioning for?” the man behind the table asked.

“Piano,” I said, trying to sound cheerful and confident.

“Got it. Can you please print your name and phone number here?”

My heart sank at the long list of names ahead of me, but I wrote down the requested information.

“Thank you. You can walk down the hall to your right, and you’ll see a row of chairs. Please, take a seat, and someone will come for you to take you to a practice room to warm up fifteen minutes before your audition.”

“Thank you,” I told him, heading in the indicated direction. Fifteen minutes wasn’t a long time at all to warm up, but I could at least practice all three songs.

I was called into a practice room in no time at all, and the fifteen minutes I had to warm up went by even faster. Before I knew it, a woman with a clipboard was standing in the door. I paused in the middle of a note to hear what she was saying, stomach somersaulting uncomfortably.

“They’re ready for you.” She gave me a friendly smile. If she could see my nervousness, the people I would be auditioning in front of would as well.

Swallowing, I followed her out of the room and down yet another hall. I needed to get myself under control.Breathe. Breathe. This is just playing the piano. You’ve done that a thousand times. You’ve played these songs a thousand times.I could do this. All I needed was to sit down at that grand piano, set my fingers on the keys and do what I was fated to do.

The audition lasted a laughably short time for all the angst I had felt leading up to it, and it went exactly how I had expected. Nervousness clutched my belly all the way up until I touched that instrument, and then everything else disappeared, and my fingers took over.

In fact, I had gotten so lost in my playing that I couldn’t successfully run through the entire audition in my head and look for mistakes I had made. I had let go and played my heart out.

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