Page 34 of Charm City Rocks
“I won’t,” she says. Then, with the grim determination of a Depression-era gravedigger, Sophia plays the intro to “Levitating”by Dua Lipa. Billy always asks students to bring in a few of their favorite songs so they can learn to play them. It helps Billy convince them that the vast instrument before them is something to be enjoyed.
“Keep going. Little louder. Hit those keys now, show Dua some love.”
The girl fumbles over notes, but she does so with impressive force. When she gets to the end of the first verse, which is as far as they’ve practiced, Billy finally gets her to smile by suggesting that maybe he briefly lost consciousness and therealDua Lipa climbed in through the window and started rocking out.
“No, it was just me,” Sophia says.
“If you say so.”
There’s a knock at the door. Billy checks the clock. “Probably your mom. Moms love sneaking back early to see the action.”
“She says you’re famous,” says Sophia. “My dad said so, too.”
“Who, me? Nah, I’mInternetfamous. Barely counts.”
She’s just a kid, but Sophia seems to get the distinction. “Is that why you’re moving out? Are you gonna live in a mansion, like The Rock?”
There are packed boxes stacked in orderly rows all around them. The walls are bare, and his TV and stereo are unplugged. His old acoustic guitar sits on a crate ofRolling Stonemagazines. There’s a second knock at the door. “I’ve been to The Rock’s place a bunch of times. Not super impressed. You ready to show your mom how well you’re doing?”
Billy hops off his teaching stool and heads to the door. As he opens it, he says, “Hope you’re ready to be impressed.” The first thing that crosses his stupid mind is that Sophia’s mom looks different. His second thought is a happier one. So happy that it’s difficult to fully trust what he’s seeing.
Margot Hammer pushes the hair out of her face. “Hi.”
A few seconds pass. Could be three, could be twenty. Probably somewhere in between. “You,” he says. “Again.”
“I forgot to sign your friend’s wall,” she says. “Kind of a bitchy move, right?”
Billy is thrown. Maybe this is the sort of thing famous people do. They return to cities far away from their own to sign their names next to local authors and retired baseball players. But then Margot pushes the same bit of hair out of her face again.
“I’m joking. Can I come in? It’s windy out here.”
Chapter20
“What are you…what are you doing here?”
Margot has had some time to think through the answer to this inevitable question. Two and a half hours on the train, plus fifteen minutes with a cabdriver who seemed to care very little whether they lived or died.
They’re tearing my ex-husband’s face down. I only went to college very briefly, but a metaphor like that can’t be an accident, right? Also, my daughter thought I should come find you, and she’s often right about things. I’m trying to prove to her—probably to myself, too—that I’m not a recluse. And I saw on the Internet how you made me smile, and the last time I smiled like that I was very, very happy. Oh, and I know this is weird, but I wanted to see the look on your face when you saw me. And now that I have, I’m pleased to report that you looked thrilled. And it’s nice when someone is thrilled to see you. Right?
She decides to distill all that, though, because it’d probably be too much. “I wanted to see you.”
“You did?”
Just then, Margot realizes two things. Billy’s apartment is packed up and barren, and there’s a little girl in a giant cardiganstaring at them with her hands over the keys of the most gorgeous piano she’s ever seen.
“Should I start?” the girl asks.
“Oh,” says Billy. “No, actually, why don’t you chill for a sec, Soph? Margot, this is Sophia, my student. Sophia, Margot.”
“Hi,” says Sophia. “I like your boots.”
Margot looks down at her feet. She’s interrupted. Billy is working, and she’s just shown up to his weirdly empty apartment, assuming he’d be sitting here waiting for her. The bag over her shoulder seems horrendously presumptuous now. All that time for thinking, and she’s forgotten to work through the logistics of where exactly she’s going to sleep tonight. “Thanks,” she says. “I like your sweater.”
Sophia points at Billy. “It’s his.”
“Yeah, the Soph-meister was chilly, so I hooked her up.”
“We’re having a cardi party,” says Sophia.
