Music From Standing Waves (22 page)

Hayley wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Thank
you.”

“Do you want some coffee or something? Or
water? Or my housemate bought this weird melon juice…”

“Please don’t hate me,” said Hayley.

I looked at her warily. “What have you done?”
My stomach began to twist.

She burst into a fresh flood of tears. “I’ve
kept this a secret for so long. I’m going crazy. You have to
understand.”

“Understand what?” I squeezed her hand. “It’s
okay Hayles, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You promise? Really?”

“I swear.”

She inhaled slowly. “Oliver…” A rush of tears
caught in her throat and she stopped abruptly.

“Oliver?” I repeated. “What about him? Is he
alright?”

“He’s not…” Hayley drew in her breath again.
“He’s not Andrew’s son.”

“What?” I pulled away sharply and stared at
her, pathetic and teary on my op shop couch. “
What
?”

“I’m such a terrible person.” She hid her
face against her shoulder. Finally, she looked up. “Please say
something.”

“What exactly would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know. I know nothing could ever make
it okay.”

“Well you’re right about that!” I stood up
and folded my arms. “Who’s his father?”

She buried her head in the couch. “It doesn’t
matter. It’s no one. I hardly even knew him.”

“You hardly even knew him?”

“We were at this stupid party,” she said,
choking on her tears. “I’d drunk too much and Andrew and I had been
fighting and-”

“You were fighting? That’s supposed to make
it alright?”

Hair clung to her wet cheeks. “I was so
young. I was nineteen, for God’s sake! I was your age!”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to make
excuses!”

“I’m not. I know there’s no excuse.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “Are you ever
planning on telling Andrew?”

Hayley balled herself up in the corner of the
couch. “Don’t you think I’ve been trying? I’ve been trying to find
a way to tell him for the past seven years!” She sniffed. “I just
know I’m going to lose him.”

“So you should!” I said icily. “Did you
expect me to tell you otherwise?”

“You don’t know what it’s been like,” she
coughed. “It’s been killing me, Abby. I hoped you would
understand.”

“Are you serious? Do you have any idea what
Andrew gave up for you?”

She wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. I should never have come. I just had to tell
someone.”

“Well why the hell did you have to tell
me
?”

“I just thought…” she spluttered. “You always
used to come to me…”

“I used to come to you with a primary school
crush!” I cried. “This is a just a little different! What the hell
am I going to do with this now?”

“Nothing! You promised me you wouldn’t say a
word!”

“And how am I ever supposed to look Andrew in
the eye, knowing what I know?”

A hiss rose from the kitchen as my carrot pot
bubbled over. I rushed out of the lounge and flicked off the
stove.

“Abby?” Hayley coughed.

I didn’t move. “Just go.”

She sniffed. “I’m going to tell him somehow.
I promise. Soon.”

“Yeah,” I said coldly. “Sure.”

Hayley left without speaking again and the
door echoed as it fell shut. Involuntarily, I tapped an anxious
salsa beat against the bench top. My head swarming, the rhythmic
drumming drifted until it had struck up with the quavers of the
Elgar
E Minor
. The Elgar
E Minor
that sung of
confusion and regret. The Elgar
E Minor
that made me
ache.

My mobile rang and scared the crap out of
me.

“Hey beautiful,” said Matt. “I finished work
early. Want some company?”

Sometimes I wanted to be Hayley so much it
hurt. And sometimes I was overwhelmed with gratitude for just being
me.

I stared blankly at the computer screen. My
techniques assignment stared back.

I nibbled chocolate off the edge of a Mars
Bar.

I typed some random notes into the
computer.

I deleted the random notes.

I changed the font of the title.

With a huge sigh, I glanced around the empty
computer lab. Screen-savers spun with stars and rainforest
panoramas. Torn scrap paper was scattered over the carpet and a
pile of empty instrument cases were crammed under the desks.

Where were the instruments?,
I
wondered vaguely.

Above my head, the air conditioner whirred. I
zipped up my jacket and shivered. Matt appeared in the doorway. He
sat at the computer beside me and checked his email.

“Matt!” I cried. “Go finish your assignment
before you fail composition!”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it later.” He
leant his head on my shoulder and kissed my neck. “What are you
doing?”

I rubbed my eyes. “This stupid assignment is
going nowhere. I can’t seem to concentrate on anything at the
moment.”

“Anything except what Hayley told you,” Matt
corrected.

I nodded.

He rested his hand under my ponytail. “I told
you. She had no right to say anything to you.”

“I know that. But it doesn’t make it any
easier to deal with.”

I had tried to forget everything Hayley had
told me, but it hadn’t worked. Each time I pulled out the Dvorak
concerto, my mind tangled over itself, thinking of Andrew.

What would he do if he knew, I wondered?
Raise Ollie as his own, I had no doubt. But would he try and
resurrect his career? Make one last grab at the dream he’d
sacrificed?

I couldn’t imagine giving up my dream for
anyone. Not even Matt. Did I not love him enough, I wondered? Did I
not love him as much as Andrew loved Hayley? I didn’t think it was
possible to love anyone more. And yet crouched in the back of my
mind was the belief that if I ever had to choose between Matt and
my career, music would win out every time.

“Deal with?” said Matt. “You don’t have to
deal with it, Abby. It’s got nothing to do with you.” He pushed
gently against my shoulder to make me face him. “Okay? Just forget
about it.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Why the hell are you taking this so
personally? It’s none of your business.” He paused. “You’re
homesick aren’t you.”

“No,” I said quickly. Matt knew nothing about
my relationship with my family and I planned to keep it that
way.

“You know it’s okay if you are.”

“I’m not,” I assured him. “I’m really happy
here with you.”

“I’m glad,” said Matt, covering my hand with
his. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t miss your old home too. Maybe
you should go back and visit in semester break.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

I turned hurriedly back to the computer. “Can
you look at my assignment?”

Matt popped his gum and scrolled quickly
through my manuscript. “It’s fine,” he told me. “Let’s go
home.”

I turned off the computer and trailed him out
of the Con. The last lectures had finished and the foyer was being
vacuumed.

“How was the junior school orchestra?” Matt
asked as we walked hand in hand to the station. I had started
tutoring ten of the world’s worst young violinists at a nearby
primary school.

“Horrendous,” I said. “I hate children.” I
dragged my feet through a pile of crisp brown leaves.

Matt laughed. “So quit.”

“I can’t. I need the money. I was way too
close to not being able to pay my rent last month.” A flock of bats
glided over our heads as we passed the dark market.

“Why don’t you ask your parents for a
loan?”

I shook my head.

“How long has it been since you spoke to
them?” Matt asked.

Seven months, two weeks and one day. I
shrugged. “I don’t know. What’s with all the questions?”

“Just trying to help.”

“Well don’t.”

“Alright, alright.” He squeezed my hand.
“Calm down.”

We stopped outside the station.

“Are you going to practise my stuff tonight?”
Matt asked.

I smiled. “Sure. But I’ve got a quartet
performance on Saturday before the Standing Waves gig, so I need to
run through that too. And I guess I should do some of my
concerto.”

He ran his thumbs over my palm. “I’m
exhausted just listening to you. I was going to see if you wanted
to come over, but it doesn’t sound like there’s room for me in that
schedule!”

“Not tonight,” I said apologetically. “But
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.” He kissed me. “See you then.”

I ran down the station steps and felt a stale
wind shiver down my neck.

That weekend, we crammed ourselves onto a
tiny pub stage for Standing Waves’ first gig. Matt and I stayed
behind afterwards for a celebratory drink with Clara and Julian.
Clara and I slid into a booth at the back of the pub, while the
boys disappeared to the bar.

“What did you think?” I asked her.

She shrugged. “I think you’re wasting your
time. I mean, Matt’s stuff is okay, but how can you find it as
rewarding as playing all the great composers? It’s just a bunch of
you jamming in a pub. How can that compare to playing first violin
in a Beethoven symphony?”

I didn’t bother reminding her that as lowly
first-years we’d been relegated to the back of the second violins
in the Con orchestra, where we played harmony and listened to the
double bassists crack dirty jokes.

“Because,” I said. “It’s Matt. This music
is
Matt. It’s like looking inside him. And I love him.
Anyway, I can do both. They’re hardly going to kick me out of the
Con for playing Matt’s music.”

Clara twirled a strand of hair around her
finger. “So you’re doing it for Matt.”

“I’m not doing it
for
him. I’m doing
it
because
of him.”

“What’s the difference?”

The boys returned with a jug of beer and a
stack of glasses. They slid into the booth beside us.

“So three people just stopped me and told me
how good they thought we were,” said Matt.

“We were good, weren’t we.” Julian filled the
pots and passed them around.

Matt nodded to the rock cover band that had
taken the next slot. “Way better than these guys anyway.”

I elbowed him. “Don’t be up-yourself.”

“To an awesome first gig,” said Julian,
raising his glass.

Matt grinned. “The next one will be even
better. I’m working on this great piece with Celtic percussion.” He
squeezed my knee. “It’s got a great violin solo in it too.”

Clara smirked. “You’re turning into a real
little hillbilly aren’t you, Abby?”

Matt raised his eyebrows. “What’s that
supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Geez. Don’t be so defensive.”

Matt turned to me. “Why do you let her speak
to you like that?”

I took a nervous sip of beer. “She’s only
joking.”

“No she’s not.”

“Of course I am,” said Clara.
“Obviously…”

“Seriously, Abby,” said Matt. “You go on and
on about how playing the violin is your one great passion and then
you let Clara say what she likes about it.”

Clara rolled her eyes. “Do you two mind
taking your domestic elsewhere? Some of us are trying to have a
nice night here.”

“She’s right,” I murmured to Matt. “Let’s not
talk about this now.”

“I want to talk about this now. You let her
walk all over you.” He waved his glass at Clara. “You know what I
think? I think you can’t cope with the fact that Abby has a
thousand times more talent than you.”

Clara laughed incredulously. “What?” She
whacked Julian on the arm. “Hello? Are you going to speak ever? A
little support wouldn’t go astray!”

Julian put down his glass obediently, but
Matt charged on before he could speak.

“She’s a more intuitive musician than you’ll
ever be. You’re just jealous and pathetic.”

“Jealous?” snapped Clara. “You think I’m
jealous of
her
? With her disgusting junkie brother and
parents that don’t even speak to her?”

My stomach plunged. I stared into my glass,
anger welling inside me. I clenched my teeth and felt my cheeks
grow hot.

“What?” Matt turned to me. “Abby? Your
parents don’t speak to you? Why not?”

I slid across the seat and pushed against his
shoulder, suddenly desperate to escape the booth. Desperate to
leave the noisy bar where my shameful secrets hung in the air for
all to see.

“Let me out,” I hissed. “I want to go.”

Matt stood up and I slid past him.

You’re not going yet are you?” said Clara. “I
was just starting to enjoy myself.”

Matt took me back to his place. We climbed
into bed and he curled his legs around mine.

“What happened with your parents?” he
asked.

I told him about Nick and about Sarah’s phone
call on the day of my audition. As I spoke, I felt an odd sense of
detachment, as though it had all happened to someone else.

Matt stroked my hair. “Why didn’t you tell
me?”

“Because I’m ashamed of it,” I admitted. “I
thought it would turn you away. But now I’ve told you, it’s like it
never happened. Like it was a different life.”

“It can be,” he said. “You don’t ever have to
go back. Your home is here now. If your parents don’t want to be
part of your life, it’s their loss.” He held his lips against
mine.

“I love you,” I whispered. “So much.”

It surprised me how easily things happened
with Matt. Admittedly, sometimes too easily. It made me think of
Justin and the years of tension we had built up. I remembered the
way the touch of his hand had sent a bolt through my body. Catching
his eye had made my cheeks fill with colour. And then, it had all
been for nothing. Everything I thought I had wanted hadn’t really
been right at all.