Crescendo

Chapter Three

Oh my God. I think this may be the best thing I've ever eaten in my life. The meat. The sauce. The melted cheese. The oregano. It all mixes together to make the most delicious meatball sandwich of my life. I know I'm being somewhat overdramatic. I mean, I do eat these suckers about once a week. But I never get tired of them. I think they're my absolute favorite thing to eat. Or at least my favorite thing to eat outside of my house. And the best thing is they come from this little hole-in-the-wall place just by the shop called Santorelli's. Tourists don't know about it either, so it's a great place to go during the summer, when places like Hudson's Hamburgers are so full of people you have to wait a good thirty minutes at least to get a spot. There are hardly ever any lines at Santorelli's. It's just so perfect. Especially when you're prone to getting hangry like I am.

Suzie just left a few minutes ago. Her last lesson finished about an hour ago, and after working on some stuff around the store, she said she had some errands to run. So I'm closing shop today. And I still have two hours before I can shut it all down. But at least she let me go and get a sandwich before she left. Oh man, did I mention how much I love that woman? She's the best. Even though she leaves me by myself on a perfect summer day. But whatever. At least I'm getting paid. And these two hours will give me time to choose a solo piece for my performance in the Know Strings Attached Recital, which is the name of the show Suzie puts on every year starring her students. It's a chance for them to show their parents what they've learned over the year. This year will be my last one, probably ever. Ugh, there's that stupid knot again. Must. Find. A. Distraction.

I plunge my fingers back into my bag, and I frown when I see how chipped my nails look. As soon as I can I'm going to have Claire touch them up. She's the best with nail polish. Like, she does the coolest designs. The types you see on social media videos. Sometimes she posts a nail polish video on my social media page and forces me to watch. I pick my favorite ones and she does them for me. The last design I had her do was of the galaxy. There's even a little rocket ship on my thumb. But it's starting to get all chipped and gross looking. Probably from me biting at my nails. A bad habit I only do when I'm nervous. Which, lately, seems to be all the time. OH MY GOD! WHERE ARE MY FRICKIN' EARBUDS!

There they are! I grip the cords with my fingers and practically rip them out of my bag. Then I shove the plug into the port of my phone and start searching for solo violin pieces. I find some really great ones, but none that speak to me. And they do, you know. Speak to me. Some are louder than others, and some are only loud at certain times. I've been trying to find a good piece for the recital, but it's been difficult with the spark having left me behind. I mean, I still play just as good as I always have. Everyone always says I sound like perfection when I play. And I know they aren't doing that thing people do when they're just saying what you want to hear. They really mean it. But other people aren't the problem. It's me. I hear the difference. I feel the difference. I've always played with soul. Most musicians do. But lately my music, to me, sounds like boring elevator Muzak. I've never felt like this before. I guess that's what happens when your spark just poof, vanishes into thin air.

It's a lonely feeling, when everyone else thinks things are okay and you're the only one who knows how not okay they are. It's been a week since graduation, and a couple months since I found out about my acceptance to Juilliard. Yet I still don't feel it. And I keep hoping that, if I find the right set piece for the recital, it'll all come back to me. But I haven't found anything yet, and I'm starting to get scared. If I don't find something soon, I won't be able to practice it enough for the recital. And I'll look like a complete loser on stage. For my last recital with Know Strings Attached. I cannot let that happen.

I scroll through a list of violin solos, pick one from Bach that looks interesting, and close my eyes, allowing the music to wash over me. I feel so warm when I hear the sound of the violin. It's like I'm dancing in a field of flowers or sitting in front of my living room fireplace on a really cold winter night. It's comfort. It's home. I sigh in content. Even if I don't choose this piece for my solo, it's still spectacular. So Bach. I feel a smile creep up onto my lips, and I feel better. The song is so beautiful, as they always are. I feel the rise and fall of the notes in my gut, like I'm on a rollercoaster ride and I'm going through a corkscrew. It's such a fun feeling. And I imagine the feel of the chin rest against my throat. The feel of the vibrations running down my neck, into my shoulders, down my torso, all the way to the very tips of my toes. It's like it's taking over my soul. The music reaches its peak, and I can feel my breath hitch in anticipation. I. Love. This. Sound.