Page 33 of Strings
“Don’t make me embarrass you,” he whispers through clenched teeth.
“Remember, I’m a reflection of you. What you do to me, impacts you.”
“Natalia, tell me of the first time you heard classical music. I find that first memories shape the way we feel for the rest of our lives.”
Oh, dear God. When did I hear classical music? Do I need to make something up, or do I have an actual memory? I place my finger alongside my lip as I desperately try to remember.
I can feel both Sebastian and the conductor staring at me as a small salad is placed on the table in front of me. It sparks a memory. Fancy food.
“I grew up very poor,” I begin, capturing their attention. I decide to leave out the details of the scam my mother was running and focus on making the most of my story.
“My mother was meeting someone about a job in a restaurant in a tall building.” I leave out the part about us having to sneak into the kitchen and add the part about the job, for good measure. “And since she had no one to watch me, she took me with her. It was my first time in an elevator and I was afraid. I don’t remember what piece was playing over the speakers, but it was beautiful. I remember it made me feel as if I were flying. Without that music, I might have had a much different experience. Music has a way of making everything better.”
“Mmm, yes. I agree.” He leans forward to make eye contact with Sebastian. “Che storia meravigliosa. Dovresti tenerla stretta.”
Sebastian smiles and nods his head before he touches his fork to his salad, shuffling the lettuce around. I try my best to not feel impressed that Sebastian can speak Italian and focus on the fact that he could have said something terrible.
“What did he say?” I whisper.
“He told me your story was magnificent and that I should hold on to you.”
“Did he really? Don’t fuck with me.”
He sighs. “Oh yeah, you’re a real keeper.”
“Did you like the way my heel felt on your foot?”
“Do you want your first violin to walk with a limp onstage tomorrow?”
“Eat your salad.”
“Eat yours.” He lifts his fork to his mouth and I place my napkin on my lap. I can’t help but smile. He definitely keeps things interesting.
I spend the next thirty minutes listening to Sebastian and Lorenzo discuss music, travel, wine, and staging. I throw in a “oh really” here and a “how interesting” there but I’m mostly bored. I have to stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day. By the time dessert arrives, I’m so full, I can barely move. I’ve eaten more food today than I’ve eaten in the last three.
I notice Cherese excuse herself. I can only assume she’s going to the bathroom. I decide to follow her. I want to know why she was staring at me earlier.
“Gentlemen, will you excuse me for a moment?” I stand, and both Sebastian and Lorenzo stand as well. The manners thing isn’t lost on me. It’s odd, but nice in a weird way. Although, now, as heads turn to see what Sebastian is doing, I feel like the whole room knows I need to pee. Might as well put a sign on my forehead.
I watch Cherese go through the bathroom doors and I follow her.
She’s fixing her lipstick at the sink.
“Hi,” I say when we make eye contact. “Did I do something to offend you?”
“Hell no. I’m sorry if I looked pissed. I have major RBF.”
“RBF?”
“Resting bitch face.”
I laugh. She kind of does.
“And sorry about leaving you to the bus. They changed a piece last minute and I had to stay late to practice.”
“No worries. Seriously. You don’t owe me anything. I just swore you were shooting me a dirty look when I first came in.” I chuckle awkwardly.
She cringes. “I probably was. I’m sorry. I guess I was surprised to find out you were dating Sebastian, but even more surprised he invited you to dinner.”
