The Ground Below

Chapter One

As I take the stage I look to the familiar spot where my grandmother always sat. I’m use to the crowd, use to the pressure of displaying my talents in front of hundreds of strangers.

This time feels different.

It is different.

I put my heart on the piano at each recital, and my grandmother always sat in the front row next to my brother and his wife with my nephew on her lap. My final performance is lonely.

I see my brother and his tiny family in their normal spot, but my Grammy should be here. It’s been a week since Grammy died. This recital has to happen or I can’t graduate, and as much as I’d like to be curled up in my bed, this is something I have to do. Grammy taught me how to play the piano, and even if this is mandatory to graduate, this is for her.

“She’ll be watching the whole performance,” Chandler assured me this morning. We talked on the phone while he made the trip to the city from Edgewater where we grew up.

As much as I’d like to believe Chandler, I wonder how he could be so sure. I place my fingers on the keys, because if I don’t start now I never will.

Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata was my Grammy’s favorite piece, and I had learned it years ago. Playing it now, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to cry so much, and know that I shouldn’t.

So, instead of crying, I do what most great musicians do, and put my feelings into the music. I play to my heart’s content, and hope my Grammy is watching. In this moment, I choose to believe Chandler.

When I’m finished, I head backstage where I see Grayson. Grayson and I have been dating for a few months.

“Hey, babe,” he smiles his cheesy smile. Yes, he is my boyfriend. No, I don’t care much for him.

“Hey,” I return blandly. Don’t get me wrong, I did like him at first. When someone close to you dies, things change. You start to take a look at your life and notice things you’ve never noticed before. Like, how much of a tool bag Grayson Holt actually is. He didn’t even come to my Grammy’s funeral. He didn’t know her, but I’m his girlfriend.

“Babe, I hate funerals,” he complained so I told him to forget it. Screw him.

“You want to stay at my place tonight?” he asks greedily.

No. “No.”

“But, babe. I haven’t seen you much lately.” I hate when he calls me babe.

I take a deep sigh. “Grayson, this isn’t working out.”

He has a confused smile like he doesn’t know whether I’m joking or not. I couldn’t be more serious. “You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack, babe.”

He stares at me for what feels like several minutes before he turns, and stalks off. I’m just extremely grateful that he didn’t pull the “love” card. We never said the L word, but guys usually do that when they seem to be losing their girl.

He didn’t care for me anyway. I’m arm candy to him, well, not anymore.

“What was that about?” A woman’s voice pulled my gaze from a retreating Grayson. Abby. My brother’s wife.

“I dumped him.” She made a sad sympathetic face. Always feeling sympathy especially for couples who break up, but I didn’t need her sympathy. I could care less. I just don’t care, and I know deep down that I should feel relieved, but at this point, I’m numb.

It’s not like we had a bad relationship. He just cared about himself, and I cared about me. And I guess as far as boyfriends go, he could have been worse.

“It’s okay, Abby. I wasn’t really into him.” She nodded, and my brother came up behind her wrapping his arms around her waist. For the first time since Abby came to me, I notice little Aiden standing at her feet.

After kissing his wife his eyes settled on me. “You did amazing, Parker. Grammy would be proud.” And just like that, I start crying again. I tried to hold the tears in, but then it turned in to those gulping for breath cries that people who don’t want to cry but do cry end up doing. I’m gasping air into my lungs, tears rush down my cheeks, and it looks like I have completely lost it. I hate crying like that. A few simple tears and silent breaths would be my preferred choice if any at all.

Strong arms wrap around me. Maybe I was numb to everything else, but the subject of my Grammy was a crippling, debilitating pain. She was everything to me. She was my grandmother, mother, and best friend all wrapped up into one. When I was sad because all the other kids hated me, she’d been there to cry along with me. Not once had she missed a performance until tonight.

“Oh, Parker,” is all that came from that sympathetic voice. There was nothing else Chandler could do other than hold me. He wasn’t as close to Grammy as I was. He had turned eighteen the summer before Grammy became my guardian, and he was off to college by the time I had to move in with her.

I took a deep steady breath as my tears let up. Abby was immediately at my side with some tissues. She wiped under my eyes to make sure the stray mascara disappeared.

“We should go celebrate your final performance. Would you like that?” She gently spoke. I nodded.

We started to leave when a couple approached us. The woman had a short blonde bob with brown undertones, and she smiled as she approached. The man had his arm around her waist as they walked and seemed to be married. They appeared to be in their late 40s.

“Can we help you?” Chandler asked seeming kind of rude, and Abby smacked him. I understand why he sounded agitated. We had just had a personal moment, but how could these people possibly have known.

“Yes, we would like to speak to Parker.”

Chandler started to speak, but I beat him to it. I did not need him being confrontational. “That will be fine,” I told them, and turned to my family. “I’ll meet you outside.”

I watched as they left before turning around to the couple. The woman began speaking, “I’m sorry if we interrupted something important, but we needed to speak to you before you left.” I tried to fake a smile, but only the corners of my lips twitched.

Then the man spoke, “We have a job offer for you. Please just hear us out, and take time to think about our offer.”

“Could you start by telling me who you are?” I asked a bit thrown off by this conversation already.

The woman let out a soft chuckle, “Oh, sorry about that. My name is Amy Gabbard, and this is my husband Dallas. We have three daughters, and the older two are already playing instruments. Our youngest daughter Kaylie is interested in the piano,” she nervously smiles. “We would like her to be Julliard ready by the time she reaches adult hood.”

“We want you to teach her,” Dallas informs me.

I nodded to show that I’m following. My head turned to Dallas as he began talking, “We live in South Carolina. We know that you most likely live around here, but we are willing to pay you quite a bit of money.”

“You want me to move to South Carolina, and teach your daughter how to play the piano?” To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

“We have a guest house that we would let you live in free of charge. The housekeeper makes all our meals, and you would be welcome to join or just tell her when you are hungry. You would only work for a few hours a few days a week, or as you would see fit.”

“My life is here. What about my family? And what am I suppose to do when I’m not working? I don’t know anyone there.” I sounded like a complete teenager throwing a fit to the parents who are forcing her to move, not someone discussing a job opportunity. “I don’t think I’ll be able to accept your offer.”

“Please just take a few days to think it over.” Dallas pulled out a business card, and on the back he started to write something. “If you take this job you can set up the sessions, and we’ll pay you this much per session.”

He passed me the card, and they started to turn away. Amy quickly told me she hoped I’d consider, and left me to look at the card. Quickly, I stuffed the card in my pocket without looking at the offered amount and headed to the parking lot where my family awaited me.