"Mother, my practice was cancelled tonight, Ms. Maisie is sickly," I said to mother who whipped her head to the side and looked very annoyed.
"I don't pay that woman to get sick I pay her to teach you how to play the violin," my mother groaned, giving me a lecture, " That's the second time she's cancelled, this is unacceptable! I think I'll call her to see if she's really sick."
Ms. Maisie was my newest violin teacher. My parents had hired her in hopes that she would get me into The Goliath Music Academy of London, the most prestigious music school. Ms. Maisie had gone there on a full scholarship, and my parents hoped the same for me. It wasn't even that I needed a scholarship, they had enough money to buy Goliath, but it was a symbol to them, a symbol that I wasn't a failure. I had practice everyday, even Sunday's.
I reasoned, " Dad, can you please tell mom I don't need practice every night, I've played since I was four."
My father shook his newspaper and folded it in his lap and pulled down his glasses, as he sat on our leather couch, "Sybil, your mother is right, you only have two months until you apply, we don't have much time, and practice is essential."
My mother stiffened up, and tugged at the bottom of her pencil skirt, which she paired with a flowing blouse as always, " Richard, call up Dave and see if he can come over," my mother commanded my father.
Afraid of the consequences, my dad did as told. While he was on the phone I fiddled with my car key ring and shook it. At that same time Carlisle came into our kitchen and gave me my violin. Carlisle was one of our family servants, and the head of our other servants. I looked at the violin and grabbed it out of his gloved hands, and then I dismissed him.
I left my parents to themselves and went up to my room and plopped down on my pink chiffon bed. While lying down I turned the knob on my old stereo to turn up the volume. One of Beethoven's songs were on and I began humming it. I knew all of his songs like others girls knew all of Taylor Swifts "songs". I would often dream about what it would have been like to meet him.
My room was very large and spacey. My day bed rested along my right side wall, and had an excellent view of the beautiful forest that surrounded our home. My actual bed rested in the middle of my back wall. My room itself was pretty plain, as my mother didn't want me to have any modern works of art or a television, since they could have all distracted me.
I let out a sigh as I looked at my ceiling, which had a mock famous painting. I ran my fingers across my finished wood bed post, going over each individual carving, or mark in the wood.
"Sybil your parents have requested your presence in the practice room, some man is here," Anna, another servant said as she entered my room to clean it.
I knew who the man was, David Farlough, my fathers best friend, and famous modern day conductor. I dreaded practicing with him since he always wanted me to sit perfectly poised and to pour out my feelings when I played, and at that time it seemed impossible.
•••
"Long time no see," Dave said to me as I entered the practice room, where my parents waited for me to arrive.
"Well right now, we are preparing for auditions for Goliath Music Academy, and Sybil seemingly doesn't see the importance in it," my father rudely explained to David.
"Very well, what piece are you preparing for them?"
Then it was my mothers turn to meddle in my musical affairs," That's what Sybil was supposed to do today, pick her piece, but Ms. Maisy knows the songs that will get her into Goliath."
Now it was my turn, "I was thinking a mash up of a lot of famous productions!?!"
"It's called a collaboration, we don't use slang in this house, and David tell me if you agree, but that seems so.... So unprofessional," My mom jumped in, likely ruining my chances of getting to do a mash up."Well, I think if we find the right songs, it could be amazing," David came to my rescue."Well I was thinking, a mash- a collaboration between Beethoven, Mozart, and an original that I've been working on, and I" I was saying before my mother shut it down. "Have you lost your mind, you are not trying to become a songwriter, you trying to get into Goliath," she snapped at me, making it very clear that I had no chance. "But mama, being good at the violin isn't going to get me into Goliath, having character, and being able to take risk will get me in," I reasoned with her, but it was no use. "Enough is enough," my mother barked, "You will do a classic piece, and nothing else, no collaborations, or anything!" Often at times, it seemed like my parents, especially my mother, were more interested in me getting into Goliath, other than what I wanted. I mean of course I wanted to get in, but I knew the chances were slim to nothing, every mother wanted their kid to get into Goliath, but not to the extent that my mother wanted me.
