Keep My Blood Cool

Chapter Thirty-Two

Romeo took a deep breath and sat at the piano, trying his best not to look at the audience. Not that there was a large audience: most of the seats were empty, except for the three professors evaluating him. The three professors who held his future in their hands, who would decide if he was worthy of studying there and becoming a professional pianist. How did three people hold so much power?

It wasn't like this was his first audition, either. He had done a few by now, all for good colleges, and they all went well. So, why were his hands shaking? Why was his breath so shallow? He shouldn't be so nervous. It was just one more audition. The last one, actually. After this, he was free and his future was out of his hands and in destiny's instead. He should be happy, thrilled, looking forward for it to be over. But he wasn't. Because this was the most important audition of them all. This was the college he wanted to go to the most. Even if he passed the other auditions, it wouldn't mean as much as this one. This was the one he truly wanted.

There was no use in looking at the audience, because he knew Savannah wouldn't be there. She had been to all of his auditions, but failed to come to this one because she had a mandatory class. She felt terrible about it and apologized a million times, but Romeo didn't blame her. It pissed him off that she had a mandatory class literally on her last day of school, and even more that it was at the same time as his audition. It was ridiculous, but it wasn't her fault. And in a way, maybe it was best he did this alone.

Still, he looked at the audience. A stupid move, as he knew it would only make him more nervous. He didn't know why, but an empty auditorium felt more intimidating to him than a filled one. However, the auditorium wasn't empty. Of course, there were the three professors, looking all superior with their clipboards, but it wasn't their presence that filled the room.

His father was sitting in the middle of the upper row. He looked the way he always did: clean, well-dressed, sitting straight, with his legs and arms crossed and an expressionless look on his face.

He was... there. He was there. How could it be? Why was he there? One of his premises for Romeo to learn the piano was that he couldn't play in front of him. He never listened to him practice at home, or any of the other auditions. Even with their relationship improved, even after they visited his mother's grave more than once, he still couldn't listen to him play. It was something Romeo had learned to accept. So, why was he there now?

"Mr. Russel, you can start now." One of the professors said, and it was then Romeo realized he had probably been staring for longer than he should.

Romeo slowly looked away from the audience and to the keys of the piano. It was a beautiful, great quality piano. Which could be as harmful as it could be helpful. What if the audition, the only time his father ever heard him play, went terribly wrong? What if he showed his father that he didn't have it, and that he had made a terrible decision by allowing him to pursue a career in music and invest so much money on a private teacher? What if he embarrassed himself and his mother's memory?

"Mr. Russel?" One of the professors insisted.

Romeo took another breath. If he took too much longer, they would send him away, thinking he had stage fright. He had to do it now. He had to play, and he had to be great. He spent the entire year practicing for this. How could be anything other than good? He had played this song so many times, there was no way he would get it wrong now. He would make his father proud. He would make his mother proud. He could do this. He could do this.