Your Mark on Me

Chapter 24: The Storm

I took a taxi back to Jackie's and Graham's house little before dawn, after a long sleepless night, which would turn into a just as sleepless morning. I had called Mark over and over, all night, but he never picked up.

I didn't know what to make of it all. On the one hand, he was mad at me, and that felt horrible. On the other hand, I now knew that he was not the heartless statue I had thought him to be.

Thankfully, the day was reserved for rehearsing with the orchestra before the big finale of the following day. I didn't think I would've have been able to pull off the actual performance in the conflicted state that I was in.

My turn came, and still no word from Mark. I thought I would completely mess up the rehearsal; it was only the second time in my life playing with an orchestra after that horrible failure in my childhood.

Instead, I found an unexpected relief in losing myself in the thundering chords of Tchaikovsky's No. 1 in B flat minor, letting go all of my worries through the music. While reinforcing the uplifting melodies played by the orchestra, I found that I actually enjoyed playing and felt grateful for having something to take my mind off him.

It was strange. It was as if Mark had managed to get to that something in me that didn't allow me to play in front of people, and had somehow unlocked it. I was still nervous, but now that I had done it once before successfully, whatever it was that had me paralysed before, was gone.

After the rehearsal, my calls still went to voicemail. I started wondering whether something bad might have happened to him. I barely ate anything for lunch.

He called me in the afternoon, his voice husky, proof of his sleepless night, and weary, which I attributed to the same reason.

"Did you get a taxi to the house all right?"

I confirmed.

"I'm sorry I left you there. It was foul of me. You were drunk."

I responded that it was fine and that I'd deserved it. "Are you back in DC then?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. But I'm sure you'll be fine. You've done it once before now. Do you think you can use that trick again?"

I knew exactly what he was talking about. "I think I can."

"Good girl. I shall see you on Monday, I suppose? For dinner like usual?"

"That would be great. Mom's leaving on Sunday night."

"I'm looking forward to hearing how you kicked the arse out of it."

I chuckled. He never swore, and that sounded funny coming out his mouth. "I'll bring the big fat check with me just to brag."

"When you'll have all that money, perhaps you can take me out for once to celebrate?"

I couldn't see him, but I heard his smile.

"No champagne though", I joked. Instantly, I regretted it. In a split second, the barely achieved laid-back mood had dissipated. Mark didn't laugh, he cleared his throat uncomfortably instead.

I didn't get the big fat check though. Not because of nerves, or because Mark wasn't there. I simply never thought I would make it to the finale. The concerto was the piece I had practiced the least and the Asian boy was considerably better prepared than me. He won the first prize, I claimed the second. Still, to me, it was incredible. My victory was, in ways other people didn't know, a million times bigger than his.

My horizons had opened immeasurably in the span of a week. The judges had only good things to say about me; as I floated in the cloud of appraisal, I seriously resolved to work hard and get into Juilliard. The dream of actually becoming a concert pianist felt more tangible than ever before.