Phoebe's Performance

Reverse

It's snowing in London and nothing could convince me not to go to Vienna on the next available flight, except price. I book the cheapest one way plane ticket flying none other than Ryan Air. I pay for baggage. The suitcase I'm borrowing from Mickey is bursting as I try and squish more inside. I also pay for three nights at a youth hostel.

"But where will you live?" Mickey sits on her bed, her face frowning as I rummage through her cupboard.

"Veronica said Maestro's apartment will be ready for me." I select a long coat, shoved in the back of her cupboard. It appears to have been long forgotten otherwise it would be on the coat rack.

"Work?"

"I'll be fine." I throw the coat on, assess myself in the mirror. Mickey nods. I fold the coat as best as possible and try and find space in the suitcase.

Mickey's gaze follows me as I continue to fossik in her room. Her eyes are wide. "But you don't speak German." She sounds triumphant when she says this and my head whips round. My face is set like stone. It hasn't shifted from this expression since I returned to her place.

"I've purchased a phrase book and I've signed up for a class that starts in January. I'll be fluent in no time."

My sister stands from her bed, following me into the living room as I zip my keyboard into a bag. "But this is crazy, it's madness." She helps me shove manuscript and scores into the bag.

"You only get one life."

"How will you pay for all of this?"

"I can't wait for the world to come to me. I've got to go out and take the opportunities with both hands. Vienna is the city for classical musicians."

"But have you spoken to Otto?" Mickey asks.

I wince as if I'd just trodden on a thorn. "Don't say his name." My voice slices through the room.

Since I've gotten back to Mickey's place, I've pulled myself together. My ideas and ideals might have been smashed by a sledge hammer. My heart might be mutilated into tiny fragments. But I will own this anger coursing through my veins and I will pick myself up.

There will be no crying.

There will be no wallowing.

There will be no naming the man who shall never be named.

It was half-witted to consider he'd like me as floored as I am. Absurd to believe he loved me. Ludicrous to imagine we were perfect together.

I've been broken before and will put myself back together.

"He...he who shall never be named...might have calmed down. You should at least speak to him."

I swivel round on my feet and stare at my sister and a sickly laugh emerges from my guts.

Have I spoken to Otto? I should at least speak to him...Ugh.

What. The. Hell?

I swallow. My lower lip trembles and every part of my body radiates this frustration. "I think he said all he needed to say."

"If you think about it." Mickey's expression appears perturbed as she plaits and then unplaits her hair. "The revelation in Symphony Magazine completely attacked his career. He was caught off guard. It would be shocking to read. Maybe he's ready to be reasonable now. So try and talk to him?"

"He's got my number."

"Well what about Dirk? He seems extremely nice. He's been calling you for the last five days."