Chapter 7

Aspen

Senior Showcase day. I've been both dreading and looking forward to this moment for most of my college career. Everyone knows that this is the moment you get hired. Everyone in the industry is invited to watch us perform, and many will walk away with a job offer. I've been preparing for this all year. I sifted through music, added lesson time with my professors, practiced until my fingers went numb, and prayed that I'm good enough. It isn't something that can be redone. Once you step on that stage and into the light, it's game time.

"You've got this." I've been staring at this little piece of paper for the last ten minutes. The words are scribbled on a napkin from Cool Beans. I stuck it on the mirror over my sink two nights ago when Bryson gave it to me. He's been pushing me to relax for weeks. Between him and my dad, I don't know who's tried harder to convince me that I've got it in the bag. I have three more hours until I have to be at the auditorium. I received letters this last week from the Boston and New York Symphonies. New York has always been a dream, but being near home would be nice too. The only thing is, I've been the backup for my dad. He hasn't retired yet, and I don't see that happening in the near future.

I paced back over to my bed. It's like being a caged animal in this apartment. There's no room, and when I'm anxious like this, I need to move. I grabbed my phone and went outside. There's an ice cream shop a few blocks away, and ice cream is the answer to everything.

It's beautiful out today. Summer is right around the corner, and everyone walks everywhere. I'm trying to enjoy the weather and calm my nerves just as my phone rings. I smiled when I glanced at the caller ID and saw it was my dad. "Hey." I grinned as I answered the phone.

"How's the newest pianist for the New York Symphony doing?" I could hear the happiness in his voice. He didn't sound like this often. After Mom died, he became very quiet. The moments I got the happy carefree man he once was were few and far between. Music was one of the only things that brought out that side of him.

"I don't have the job yet." I sighed as I heaved open the door to Mike's Sweets Shop.

"You will. Just remember to pace yourself and don't let your nerves or surroundings distract you." The more serious tone was coming out.

"Yes. We've been through this. I'm trying to stay calm, remember?" I reached the counter. "Double chocolate cone," I rambled off, paid, and then went back to my conversation with my dad.

"Where are you?" He laughed lightly.

"Getting ice cream. I felt like I was suffocating at home. It's a nice day." I accepted the cone from the guy at the counter, and then began the walk home. "I needed to get out."

"You get that from your mother." A melancholy sound filled his voice. "Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to check in. I'll see you at the showcase. I've got front row seats." The happy sound was back.

"I'll be looking. Maybe we can grab dinner after," I suggested.

"Sounds good. I love you."

"Love you too, Dad." I hung up and stuffed my phone back in my pocket. I took a giant lick of my cone before wandering around to the grassy area by my building. There were tables for outdoor eating set up, and I really didn't want to go back inside just yet.

"This is it," I mumbled under my breath as I paced the wings. I could hear cello music filling the auditorium. I was sure Bryson was blowing them away. I had a while to wait for my turn. I was last. This was a coveted spot, but I have no idea why. Waiting all this time. Listening to everyone else. I just wanted to preform and get it over with. I needed to get it over with.

I continue to move about backstage. Clenching my fists until my nails cut into my palms. Trying to be quiet as my heels clicked along the wooden stage. It was maddening. Applause erupted when Bryson played his final chord, and I moved to meet him when he stepped off stage.

"You were amazing." I grinned.

"You're just saying that. Did you actually listen or are you back here wearing a path down on the floor?" He laughed as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Maybe a little of both. You did sound great though." I smiled sheepishly. "Do you really want to play cello though? What about guitar?"

He shrugged. "Cello is what I came here for. Guitar is something I taught myself."

"I guess I just see you in a band or something." I stared at the ground.

"Hey." He waited for me to look at him. "A symphony is a band, silly."

"You know what I mean. After seeing you at open mic, I know you could be a rock star someday." I gave him a half smile. Bryson was talented, more talented than he gave himself credit for, and sometimes I think I'm the only one who sees it.

"Maybe." I stared off toward where the stage lights were glaring onto the black curtains.

We stood there talking for a few more moments until I was up. "Break a leg." He smiled as I took a deep breath and headed for the baby grand that was front and center on stage.

My feet dragged as I clutched my music in my hands. I strode over to the bench and gracefully sat down. I straightened my back and placed my music on the stand. I glanced out at the filled seats. It was hard to make much out. The lights were blinding, but I could see him. Right where he said he'd be. Front row, center stage. Dad smiled as he gave a slight nod of encouragement. I closed my eyes and let the words you are good enough drift through my head. I could do this.

Without thought, I placed my hands over keys. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and pressed down, sounding the first chord. The piano filled the auditorium. My fingers danced as I rocked to the beat on the bench. Effortlessly, the music poured out of me, years of practice making me perfect in that very moment.

When I reached the final chord, I paused. You could hear a pin drop, and when I stood, applause filled the air. The audience stood, clapping and whistling and right in the middle of all of it was my dad. The look of pride that filled his features was unmistakable. I'd dreamed of this moment for years, but my dad had envisioned it for most of my life. All those years ago when I begged him to teach to me to play, I know that he knew this was in my future.

I gave a quick curtsy before rushing off the stage and into the wings. Bryson was standing there waiting. "You were amazing," he shouted as he wrapped me in a hug. "I knew you could do it."

"Did you see?" I wiggled my hands in front of him as he sat me down. "No mistakes." I grinned.

"You've lived in that practice room for weeks. I knew you'd be perfect." He laughed.

"Penny!" My dad came rushing around the corner. "You were brilliant." He kissed my forehead as I grinned even more if that was even possible.

"Do you think they liked it?" I nibbled my lip, daring myself to be happy.

"I think they'd be crazy not to offer you the job. We must celebrate!" He lifted me in his arms and spun in a circle. "We must all celebrate." He pointed at Bryson.

"Come with us." I motioned for him to follow. "Dinner, wine, and most important, ice cream." I giggled.

"Who could say no to that?" He chuckled.

Dad offered his arm, and after linking mine with his, we left the auditorium with Bryson trailing behind us. It was a nice night, and I all but skipped down the sidewalk like a young child as we made our way to the restaurant district with a blanket of stars overhead.

The walk didn't take long, and when we paused in front of the large wooden door, I couldn't keep the smile off my face. Embers was famous for their brick oven pizza, and I hadn't been here in ages. "I thought something like this was appropriate." Dad smiled as he opened the large door.

"I don't remember the last time I ate here." I stepped inside and was flooded with nostalgia. Large sconces adorned the walls with flickering lights to emulate candles. Small wooden tables were scattered about the room. Waiters dressed in black with red and green aprons bustled about smiling at patrons.

"How many?" The hostess greeted us.

"Three." Dad nodded.

"This way." She motioned for us to follow her. The smell of fresh mozzarella and tomato sauce flooded my senses as we were led to a table on the back side of the restaurant.

"I don't think I've ever been here," Bryson mused as he sat down on one side. Dad sat across from me and offered me a menu.

"I don't know why I even look at this," he mumbled. "I get the same thing every time."

"Be adventurous." I giggled. "Try something new."

"New?" One brow raised. "What are you going to get?"

"I think I'm in the mood for deep dish." The image of a huge pie filled with cheese and sausage filled my head. I closed my eyes and sighed.

"That sounds good. Why don't we share? You can pick the toppings."

"Deal." I nodded as I perused the menu. Dad was never picky, so I knew I could get pretty much whatever I wanted.

"I think I might join you." Bryson set his menu aside.

When the waitress came, I ordered us a large deep dish with cheese, sausage, and mushrooms. Dad added a bottle of champagne for the table, and our server suggested some breadsticks as an appetizer. Deep dishes take a long time to bake, and she didn't want us starving, or so she said.

We sat waiting, engrossed in conversation about school, and where we wanted to be after. I could tell the idea of me moving to New York was making my dad sad. It was just him at home, and even though it was just a train ride, I knew we'd both be busy if I got the job.

"I just hope I pass theory class." Bryson rubbed his eyes. "I feel like a dummy in there."

"You're brilliant and everyone knows it." I pushed on his shoulder. "Own it."

"Easy for you. You're perfect." He rolled his eyes.

"I'm far from perfect." I shook my head as I sipped my champagne.

Conversation changed to lighter topics like summer and vacations and before long, our pizza arrived.

"This looks delicious." Bryson licked his lips as the server dished out a slice and handed him the plate. Cheese stretched down to the dish and my mouth began to water at the sight.

"Oh, it is." Our server smiled as she served me next. After handing my dad a plate, she told us to let her know if we needed anything, and to enjoy.

The next several minutes were fairly quiet as we began devouring our slices. Soft music played in the background and a lull of voices filled the air. It was a nice evening and just what I needed after a long stressful week of practices and preparation.

When we finished, Dad paid the bill, and led the way back outside. We walked as a trio back to campus. After Bryson headed toward his dorm, I turned to my dad. "Thanks. This was one of the best nights ever. I don't think anything could make it better."

"I'm glad you had fun. You nailed that solo, and you're going to do great things. I can see it now. You'll play Carnegie sooner than you think, and I'll be there to see it. Your dreams are right there. You just have to grab them." I smiled up at him, my father, my hero. I wanted to believe what he was saying, but until I got that letter with an offer to play, I wasn't going to let the excitement in. I was holding everything back, waiting. He leaned down and wrapped me a giant hug before turning toward the train station to go home. "I wanna be the first call you make when you get the letter," he called as he offered one last wave and turned the corner.

"You know you will be!" I shouted before opening the door to my building. I laughed to myself thinking that he thought I'd call anyone else. He was the one who got me here, and he sure as hell was going to be along for the ride.