Phoebe's Performance

Next Steps

Chapter 16    

I can't forget the Friday night that just past and the promising piano lesson I had with Otto. Playing Brahms was a monumental breakthrough since the accident. And then the compliments Otto relayed from Maestro, my ex-piano teacher. All through the weekend, even when I conjure plans with Sophie and Carol, of how to help my sister and Artie's relationship, occasionally I was left staring into oblivion wondering the possibilities of my future...

Both Saturday and Sunday night I wake in the middle of the night, dripping with sweat because the words hit me like a freight train.

He solemnly believes that you could become a great concert pianist if you wanted to. He thinks you're one of the exceptional ones, highly talented.

Something deep inside me, things long forgotten, and wishes I dared not remember stir. These thoughts cause havoc with my mental state. These past dreams and desires taunt my brain. Childish infatuations, of me on stage in a world class concert hall, carry on in my head.

I'd always wanted to be a concert pianist.

I'd imagined walking off a plane in Vienna, suitcase in my hand, endeavouring to become the next Mozart. How amazing would that have been? How amazing could it still be? Is that golden future still within my reach?

But since the accident – I've been bogged down, plagued by the nature of what happened. Will my conscious forgive me for what happened to my parents? For what if the accident wasn't completely my fault?

Monday morning, again I wake with the sheets soaking wet and contemplate how the horrific collision changed the course of my thinking and my life. But...since the accident I believe people can achieve anything if they put their mind to it.

Surely this applies to music as well and not just physical well being?

At three o'clock in the morning, I sit on the keyboard in Mickey's living room and make a decision. I need to try to change my mindset. If I learned nothing from the accident it was that the mind is powerful. I should at least try.

A few hours later that same Monday morning I resolve to accept Otto's offer and use his grand piano to practise on. Mickey would have some sort of coronary if I began playing on the keyboard at odd hours in her apartment.

I arrive at the mansion early, at a time when the bus is still void of passengers. A light nip brushes my cheek as the day hasn't yet had time to warm up as I walk up the manicured path toward the Arnold residence. It's then when I notice the shutters are still drawn on the bedroom window. And for the first time, I wonder whether arriving at the mansion at half six was what Otto expected and whether I've made the wrong decision in an overly tired state.

A flicker of doubt ripples through me as I dump my handbag on the music room floor. I should have double checked with Otto.

To date the history between Otto and me is filled blunders: introducing myself with the embarrassing slipper manoeuvre, not realising baking cookies on the first day of work was something he regarded as an essential daily task, then overhearing his private conversation with Kathleen. Of course there was the interest I'd taken in his performances and played a DVD within earshot and not realised he was too sensitive to hear. Following that I fell apart playing the piano for him.

In fact, whenever it comes to Otto, each past step I've taken has led to some sort of angry confrontation.

There are too many reasons not to be here.

The consequence of practising might result in some sort of catastrophic argument with Otto and I'd end up without a job. I've spent most of the weekend developing a plan to get Mickey and Artie back together, holding this position is paramount and I close the music room door shut and deliberate what to do next.