Page 149 of Things I Read About
I’m nervous, though.
Really, really nervous.
Which is normal.
This is fine.
The player before me walks out. That is my cue.
I don’t look back at Nate, I’m too flustered. I just shuffle in and sit at the piano, waiting for them to tell me to begin.
I set up my sheet music that I don’t need.
I am nauseated.
I don’t like it.
It’s just nerves. I’m fine. It’s fine!
I hear someone on the other side of the curtain clear their throat. “Okay, begin.”
I start. I play perfectly, but it is not fun.
With each note, I grow more nauseated.
It’s fine.
No,it’s not. I’m going to hurl on the piano.
There’s no joy in this like there was at home.
And the pressure to be perfect, to play this well, will only continue if I make a spot. It’s a symphony. A professional symphony.
It’s fine, just finish the piece.
Wait.
All my space. All my space. I hate this feeling. I hate this.
I stop playing.
There.
I immediately feel better, and I have the answer to my question. I gather my pages and walk out. I hear someone call out a question, but they’ll figure it out. I just want to get away from this space and all these feelings.
I burst out of the room and inhale freedom.
“Sal? You didn’t finish?” Nate starts walking to the audition room. “Did those sons of bitches cut you off, because I will—”
“Nate! No! I just stopped.”
He rushes back to me and bends down to look me in the eye, holding my face with his hands. “You stopped? What’s going on, baby? Are you okay?”
I smile. “I am.” He stands up, eyebrows raised. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes ma’am,” he says. Then he turns and walks toward the car. He doesn’t hold my hand.
He didn’t hold my hand earlier when we came in. And I thought he’d give me a good luck kiss, like really kiss the crap out of me, like I like, but he didn’t.
