Finding the Magic (Tom Kelly's Boys Book 1) (2 page)

Chapter 2

My hand shook profusely as I dialed the number to talk to my mom. I usually tried to be careful placing calls while I was traveling overseas since it was so expensive, but tonight I didn't have a choice. I had to hear a familiar voice or I might just implode.

The phone shook as I held it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Mom?"

"Everything okay Addie?"

I hesitated and sighed hopelessly. "Not really."

"Are you okay sweetheart?" I could tell by the panicked undertones in my mom's voice that she thought I might be physically injured.

"I'm not hurt or anything, Mom, but I'm also not in good shape."

"Spit it out, Addie. You're freaking me out."

"I choked tonight."

"What do you mean, you choked?"

"I forgot the piece."

"You what?"

I was so shaken that my body literally vibrated—my hand causing the phone to clang against my earring. The driver glanced back cautiously but I acted like I didn't see him.

"The music left me. It just wasn't there. One minute I was playing, and the next I felt like I was desperately digging holes, looking everywhere in my brain for the music. It just wasn't there."

There was a moment of silence and I wondered if my mom had heard.

"What'd you do?" she finally asked.

"I walked off stage with the conductor, we looked at the music, I remembered it, and then we went back on stage and finished the movement."

"Where were you in the piece?"

"More than halfway through the final movement."

There was another long pause. I had no idea what my mom was thinking. "These things happen, Addie," she said, finally.

I let out an uncontrollable laugh at that, but otherwise said nothing.

"Everything's going to be okay," she said. She did her best to sound convinced, but I could tell she was as confused as I was at the news. I didn't mess up on stage. I spent every waking moment of my life
practicing
for the
sole purpose
of being perfect on stage. There was no way what I just experienced was stage fright.

"Do you think I have Alzheimer's or something?" I asked. "Maybe amnesia?"

"No baby, you just locked up."

"What the hell does
that
mean?"

"Calm down, Addison."

"It was just one of those things. It happens to the best of performers."

I shook my head even though she couldn't see me. "No it doesn't," I said. "This was not normal, Mom. This was devastating. Career ending."

"Now, let's not go that far."

I huffed a laugh. "I don't need you to try to talk me into thinking it wasn't a big deal, because I was there. I am perfectly aware of how big of a deal it was and it was a big freaking deal. I just need some support right now."

"What kind of support?"

"I don't know. I just needed to be on the phone with you because my world's upside down right now. Hang on for a second, Mom."

The hotel was only blocks from the venue, and the driver pulled up to the front and came around the car to let me out. I got out of the car and headed toward to the front door without speaking to him. I could see the concern in his expression when I glanced at him, so I gave him an attempt at a reassuring smile, but turned right after that to go inside the hotel.

"I'm in the lobby of my hotel headed up to my room."

"You want to call me back when you get up there?"

"No. I want to stay on the phone," I said.

I got into the lift (as they call it over here) and pressed the button for it to take me to the eighth floor.

"Everything's gonna be all right," she repeated.

I knew she was just trying to fill the silence, so I didn't say anything.

"Addison?"

"I'm here," I said.

The solitude of the elevator felt so good. I contemplated giving myself the go-ahead to start crying, but I decided to wait until I was behind the locked door of my room. Once on the eighth floor, I ran down the hallway with the phone to my ear, desperate to be somewhere that no one could see me.

I unlocked the door, went into the room, and collapsed onto the leather couch that lined the wall near the door. The tears started flowing immediately.

My mom just sat on the other end, listening for a few seconds as I cried. "Addison, you need to get a hold of yourself. It can't be this bad."

I did my best to catch my breath silently. "Mom, it's over. I can't believe I'm even saying this, but it's over."

"It's not over, Addison. Don't be so dramatic. It was one performance, and you recovered."

"Mom, the entire show stopped. I left the stage and then came back out to finish. It was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to a professional musician. I just
lived
my worst nightmare."

I flopped back onto the couch and cried, reliving the moment when I stared at the piano keys and had absolutely no idea what to do with them. I cringed with shame as I pictured the scene.

Because of the way my career sort of accidently took off, my dad was acting as my manager/agent for now, and at this very moment, I was extremely relieved that I didn't have any other phone calls to make. My mom would tell my dad for me and we'd deal with the backlash of everything when I got back to the states. At the moment, I just needed to curl into a ball on the couch.

"I need you to tell Dad for me," I said. "He might need to contact someone at the Phil, to see what we're gonna do about payment or whatever."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I don't know if they're gonna pay me after what I just did."

My mom huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Addison. I'm sure you're not the first person who's ever done this."

I paused before letting out a hopeless laugh. "I think it's worse than you think."

"Did they boo you off the stage or something?"

"No."

"Then what's the big deal? You had a little hick-up, you recovered, and you finished the show. You did what any professional would do."

I took a really deep, calming breath. "Mom?" I whispered. "I'm done."

***

A day later, I was on a flight back to New York. I wondered if I'd ever get over the embarrassment. It was distracting to the point of being crippling, and I thought I just might spend the rest of my life reliving it and obsessing about it.

Regret.

I was swimming in a sea of regret, and having quite a hard time keeping my head above water. I'd never in my life wished so hard that time travel was possible.

I flew back to New York feeling incredibly uncertain about my future. Continuing a career in performance was out of the question. The memory loss I suffered was too unforgettable to move on with my career. The fear of it happening again was greater than my will or desire to put myself into that position. I was broken—no longer a performer. And I was heartbroken at the realization of it.

I got to my boyfriend Kade's apartment at ten o'clock Monday night. I could've moved back home to Florida when I quit school, but I decided to stay in New York since I had a good situation. Kade's apartment was only blocks away from Juilliard and I still had access to a practice space there.

I still called it Kade's apartment because I'd only been living there for a few months. Before I moved in, I lived with three other girls in a tiny apartment that was twelve blocks from school instead of Kade's four. It was a no brainer that I'd move in with him when he asked. His place was much nicer than the place I was in, and I'd been staying there a lot anyway.

It was almost Christmas, and as I walked down the hall, I noticed that most of the doors on his floor had wreaths, or lights, or some other kind of decoration. Kade's door just had a row of sleigh bells on a strip of leather hanging from the doorknob. The bells chimed when I opened the door, announcing my arrival. I put my bags by the door and set my purse and keys on a little table he had in the entryway.

I thought I was in the apartment by myself, so it surprised me when I came around the corner and saw Kade standing in the kitchen. He was casually leaning on the counter with a mug of some hot liquid in his hand. I could tell it was hot by the way he huddled over it.

"I didn't think you were here," I said, crossing the kitchen to stand close to him. I stood close enough to lay my head on his shoulder and he patted me on the back. I'd been in touch with him after the concert, and he knew about what happened. And now, with him patting me stiffly on the shoulder like he was, I could tell he was disappointed and disconnected.

"I just have to move on from here, you know?" I said, trying to sound positive. "Figure out plan B."

"That's sad, Addison."

I pulled back to look at him. He seemed so very disappointed.

"There are other things I can do with music besides performance," I said. I shifted to try to look at him, but he avoided eye contact. "I can be a teacher or composer or both. I still have a lot to offer the world of music—just not as a performer." I said it with as much confidence as I could muster. It was the same shit I'd been telling myself for the last day and a half, and I hoped it was enough to convince him that I wasn't ready to throw in the towel on my music career. But that's exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to walk into his bedroom, close the door, and never come out.

"I'm not good with you quitting to become a teacher," he said. He stared straight ahead, still avoiding my gaze.

I put a hand in front of his face and gave it a little shake to try to get him to look at me. "What exactly do you mean when you say you're
not good with it
?" I asked.

"I mean, we are together because you are who you are," he said. "We're a power couple."

I cocked my head at him. Kade was from a wealthy family (hence his apartment), and went to Juilliard, but he wasn't exceptionally talented, and I honestly didn't know what he meant by
power couple
. I had never heard him say something like that before, and it struck me as funny. I let out a little laugh, but he just stared stone faced at the other side of the kitchen.

"Are you saying you don't want to be with me anymore if I'm no longer a performer?"

"Well, obviously not Addison, because a performer
is
who you are."

I stared at him, completely confused. "I'm not a performer anymore, Kade. At least not at that level."

He finally looked at me. His eyes met mine and his expression begged me to see things his way. "You're still a performer. This was a one-time thing. Everybody falls. You have to pick yourself up and get back out there."

I smiled at him sadly. "I can't do it anymore," I said shaking my head. "I'll never be able to do anything at that level again. The fear of a repeat is too crippling."

"No offense or anything, but I think that's just showing weakness of character," he said.

Offense taken, asshole.

I stared at him with a disbelieving expression. "Can you not bring yourself to love a teacher, Kade?"

I expected him to deny it or at least look ashamed, but he just shook his head. "No. Hell no. I'm not letting you quit."

"It's not your decision to make. I quit. Past tense. It happened already."

A moment of awkward, tense silence passed before he shook his head. "I'm sorry but if you're not willing to persevere, then you're not the person I thought you were."

"Are you saying you don't want to be with me if I quit performing?"

"I'm saying that I warned you about jumping into this touring situation feet first like you did. I wanted you to finish up at Juilliard, but you and your dad wanted to take every gig that was offered."

"You just said you don't want to be with me if I
quit
performing, but then you turned around and said you tried to
warn
me about performing in the first place. Which is it?"

"It's both," he said. "If you would've listened to me, this wouldn't have happened in the first place. But now that you're on this path—now that you've chosen to put yourself out there, you can't just
quit
."

"Well, I can tell you right now my career as a concert pianist is over. I'm still trying to sort out what I can possibly contribute to music or the world in general, but I'm
done sitting at the fucking piano in front of an audience
."

He regarded me with a disappointed, almost disgusted expression. "You're not the person I thought you were," he said shaking his head.

I was unable to believe he was leaving me at a time like this. "I guess you're not the person I thought you were either," I said.

He seemed so emotionless toward me, and I stared at him in disbelief, feeling like my life was completely unraveling.