Page 68 of The Woman in 3B
His freckled nose scrunched. “No.”
I knocked my shoulder against his smaller, bonier one. “Be nice.”
His face remained comically contorted. “Youdon’t have to listen to her practice.”
The lights in the gymnasium flickered, indicating the performance was about to start. The conversations around us quieted and the few stragglers who’d remained standing took their seats among the family and friends in the sparse audience.
A small, older woman in a long, flower-patterned skirt and grey sweater took center stage. Her outfit was conservative, but I wondered at its practicality for a warm, summer day. The gymnasium wasn’t air conditioned and there were no exterior windows to let in any cooler air. The performances hadn’t even begun, yet the air was already sticky. Several people around me used their paper programs as fans.
The woman stepped up to a lone microphone. “Good afternoon, everyone,” she spoke to the crowd. “And welcome to our summer recital. Our students have worked hard since their last performance so thank you for coming out to support them.”
She continued with some reminders about technology etiquette, which reminded me of the innumerable pre-flight announcements I’d made over the years. I had to hold back an audible snort. This woman was wasting her breath; no one ever remembered to silence their ringers. I should have made a wager on how many times a phone would go off that afternoon.
Over the next hour, a succession of children ranging from kindergarten to pre-teen took the small stage. Most played piano while others played string instruments like the violin or cello. My niece, June, had her moment about forty-five minutes into the program. It was a long enough delay that I’d started to suspect Dawn had tricked me into watching stranger’s children poorly play their instruments as some kind of twisted punishment. If not for Anissa’s presence beside me, I probably would have dozed off in the overly-warm gym, or worse yet, rudely paid more attention to my phone than to the performers on stage.
I periodically observed Anissa in my peripheral vision. She didn’t know any of these kids and yet she’d remained attentive and supportive throughout each painful performance. In fact, I caught her leaning progressively forward in her metal folding chair, as if silently willing the terrified adolescent on stage through each awkward performance. Every wrong note, every off-key exchange, seemed to pull even more empathetic energy from the woman beside me.
When my niece June crossed the stage in her pretty sundress, Dawn scrambled to pull out her phone to record the performance while simultaneously nudging Peter awake. June was small for her age. Even though two years separated she and Peter, she wasn’t much bigger than her younger brother. Peter had gotten his father’s bright red hair and freckles while June had pale blonde hair and skin so white it was almost light blue. Her pallid skin always looked like she never went outside, contributing even more to her fragile appearance.
June didn’t make eye contact with anyone in the audience. She walked directly for the piano and solemnly sat down at the piano bench. My stomach twisted in knots before she struck her first note; I didn’t want to see her struggle.
My niece played slowly and carefully. I didn’t recognize the song; it wasn’t “Hot Cross Buns,” but it wasn’t overly-complicated either. But she was also only seven years old, I had to remind myself.
I could feel Dawn clenching beside me during June’s song. I couldn’t imagine the stress of a parent watching their child perform in a public venue. I was nervous enough, and I was only an aunt.
June’s song came to an end, thankfully, with no major errors or tears. She turned towards the crowd with a pleased smile on her tiny, pale face. I joined the others in clapping. I wanted to stand and make a scene, but Dawn had remained in her seat, so I took my cue from her. I didn’t want to embarrass the poor girl.
When Anissa finished clapping, she set her hands lightly on the top of her thighs. I was keenly aware of the press of her leg against mine. The tip of her pinkie finger just barely touched the outer edge of my leg. Her movements were slow, like an inching caterpillar. She moved her finger discreetly so the short nail scratched against the denim of my jeaned thigh.
The touch was subtle and unassuming, yet its intimacy affected me. It was the secret, stolen touch of a new couple still trying to figure the other person out. She might have wanted to be more overtly physical, more obviously Out, but she was sensitive to the fact that maybe I wasn’t comfortable with PDAs around my family.
We only had to suffer through a few more performances until the recital came to a close. Families collected their children and had begun to scatter while we waited on June. My niece skipped across the gymnasium, holding onto her sheet music.
“Great job, Junie!” I congratulated.
“Aunt Alice!” she squealed when she saw me.
Her excitement produced a pang of guilt and regret. I really needed to make a better effort to spend more time with my family.
“These are for you.” I handed her the bouquet of flowers. I was suddenly very thankful that Anissa had suggested we pick them up. The gesture made me feel a little less rotten. “You were so good up there!”
June mashed her face into the flowers.
“We were going to grab a late lunch after this, if you’re free,” Dawn said as she gathered Peter and her purse. “You probably have to get back to the city though.”
I couldn’t tell if my sister was giving us an excuse for an early exit, or if it was more of her passive-aggressive guilt tripping.
I looked in Anissa’s direction, not sure how much more of my family she wanted to endure.
She shrugged. “I can always eat.”
“Good,” Dawn approved with a rare smile. “Anissa, do you eat pizza?”
“She’s American, isn’t she?” I snapped.
“I … I was more asking about food allergies,” my sister explained. She looked startled by my outburst. “Mom reflexes. You wouldn’t believe how complicated pizza parties have gotten. It’s all gluten-free crust and vegan cheese these days.”
Anissa flashed my sister a brilliant smile as if I hadn’t just been rude. “I eat everything.”
