High Note (9 page)

“Suffering,” Sean said at one point, when my parents were questioning the waiter about the wine and their attention was elsewhere.

“This again?” I said.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and maybe the moral of this story is about suffering.”

“Well, you’ve been talking about it enough. I’m sure it had to lead somewhere.”

“You’re suffering because you want things to be like they used to be. But you also know you have to look ahead. You are suffering because of the past and the future.”

“That is generally what people do,” I said. “We remember and we wonder.”

“Ah, good. Yes, exactly. Crissy is suffering in a different way. She’s suffering from wanting.”

“Okay. But she brought that on herself,” I said.

I hadn’t told Sean what Denise had told me about the vote. I didn’t think I would ever tell anyone. It was going to be one of those secrets that lingered inside me forever. The weirdest thing was that right after Denise had told me how the vote had gone, while I’d sat there alone in the dressing room, staring at my reflection in the mirror, the only person I’d wanted to talk to was Crissy. I’d wanted to tell her how unfair it was. How stupid. But I couldn’t. I never could. Even if it might make things better, I was going to have to keep this inside me forever and never tell a soul.

“She brought it on herself,” Sean agreed. “But it’s interesting, because you are suffering in the
quiet moments. The times when you’re alone and thinking about what has happened. Wondering if anything might change. You’re suffering because of the past and the future. Whereas Crissy is suffering in the present. That’s a difficult thing to do. She’s sitting on the side of that stage, watching you perform, and she’s suffering because she wishes she was you. I doubt she’s even thinking about how she could have done better in the audition or what might come next. She’s suffering because she isn’t you.”

“You think so?”

“I know it.”

“So do you think once this production is over, she’ll come back around?”

Sean shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said.

I looked at the fancy people around us. The waiters pouring fine wine into crystal glasses. The men and women in expensive outfits. The chatter and laughter and delicious smells. This was going to be my future. I had no doubt whatsoever. I was here because of my talent.

I was here because I belonged.

“Sorry, what?” I said.

“You never know what’s going to happen,” Sean said. “That’s the moral of this story.”

“That’s the moral of every story, Sean.”

He shrugged again, then speared a shrimp with his fork and put it in his mouth. “Or it could be that we bring all the good and bad in our lives upon ourselves.”

“That sounds closer to the truth,” I said.

Because then nothing that had happened to Crissy could be my fault. And in the warm glow of that amazing night, that was the exact kind of moral that would bring no suffering to me whatsoever.

JEFF ROSS
is an award-winning author of seven novels for young adults. He currently teaches scriptwriting and English at Algonquin College in Ottawa, Ontario, where he lives with his wife and two sons. For more information, visit
www.jeffrossbooks.com