Chapter Thirty-One
Gabby
My weekend with Jonathan is over before I know it, and I’m back at school. The contrast between the weekend and being at school leaves my head spinning. The weekend was spent on stage surrounded by the biggest recording artists around right now, who all wanted to talk to me about their music and working with them on new songs. At Marycliff, I’m just another music student who knows next to nothing. Homework, classes, practicing. Jet lag and lack of sleep make it hard to keep up, and when I head into my lesson on Wednesday morning, I’m still dragging and not as prepared as I’d like to be.
I can read the disappointment all over Clara’s face when I haven’t made any real progress on the third movement of the Mendelssohn concerto.
Dropping my violin from my shoulder, I tuck it under my arm and rub my eyes with my now-free hand. “I’m sorry. It was a busy weekend, and I didn’t get as much time to practice as I wanted.”
Clara purses her lips. “You need to focus, Gabby. I know you’re busy. Everyone is busy.”
I swallow down the urge to laugh at that. I don’t think most students are busy like I am, but I haven’t really talked to Clara about what’s going on with Jonathan. I don’t know if she knows I’ve started performing with him or that I was at the benefit concert this weekend or not. I haven’t told her. If she’s still following entertainment news, she should know. But since the attention surrounding me died down after its initial surge last year, she may have stopped. She may not know about the new attention I’m getting. For myself, and not just as Jonathan’s girlfriend.
Instead, I rub the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. I know. I’ll have more time to practice this week. It won’t happen again.” That’s probably not true. I’ll be gone again in a couple of weeks. And Jonathan’s coming to visit next Monday. Though it’s easier to get practicing time when he’s visiting me than the other way around. We tend to lay low while he’s here, hanging out in the hotel room and keeping out of the public eye. No shows. No PR. No hectic schedule. Just him and me, together. He’s happy to read or do whatever while I get my homework and practicing done.
I don’t say any of that, though. There’s no point.
Clara sits back in her chair, arms crossed, surveying me like she’s considering something. Finally she takes a deep breath and says, “As I’m sure you know, in the spring the Opera Workshop students stage a full opera.” She waits for my nod before continuing. “They use a small pit orchestra for it. Even though you declined the opportunity to be in the pit for the fall musical, they want you to play for the opera. You’re principal second violin this semester, and they typically choose the first desk of all the sections they need, unless someone has a conflict.”
“When is it?”
She eyes me again, like she’s trying to figure out if there’s more to my question than the obvious. Leaning over, she retrieves a piece of paper from her desk. “This is the rehearsal and performance schedule.”
I take the paper from her and start to look it over, but she keeps talking before I can even register what it says.
“I have a feeling you might have conflicts with some or all of those dates. And here’s my unsolicited advice.” She waits for me to meet her eyes before going on. “Cancel them. Whatever conflicts you may have, find a way to get out of them.” She points at the paper in my hand. “When you applied here, you told me your dream was to play in an orchestra. To do that, you need as much experience as you can get. You need to do more auditions like the one for the Spokane Symphony sub list. You need to jump at every opportunity to play you get. And you need to stop wasting your time flying all over the place to be with someone who’s more focused on his career than yours.”
My nostrils flare, but I keep my lips clamped together, holding in the retort that wants to spill out. Jonathan is anything but unconcerned about my goals. If that were true, he wouldn’t be trying so hard to make it so I can have everything I want. So I can finish school and still be with him and now performing with him and all the other craziness that’s coming along with it.
But she makes a valid point. I did tell her that my dream was to play with an orchestra. And she’s in a better position than Jonathan to advise me on how to get that.
So I nod. “Okay. Can I have time to think about it? I need to look this over and compare it with my schedule.” I know there’s at least one date that I’m supposed to play a concert with Jonathan. But it’s a rehearsal. The performance is on a weekend that I’m pretty sure I’m still supposed to be here.
Clara purses her lips like she’s disappointed. “Keep in mind what I’ve said. If you’re serious about a career in classical music, you need to stop devoting time to things that won’t pay off in the long run.”
Once again, I have to swallow back the laughter that threatens to bubble up. What I’m doing is already paying off. I finally checked the balance on the account Jonathan set up for me. I got the first royalty check from last quarter’s record sales. My eyes about fell out of my head when I saw how much money that was. And that’s not even counting my cut of ticket sales from the concerts that I’ve played.
“Right,” I say instead, setting the schedule on my stand.
Clara takes that as some kind of agreement, and her posture relaxes. “Good. Let’s go from the beginning then. See if that last time through shook out some kinks and get some work done.”
With a nod, I put my violin back on my shoulder, the bow to the string, and start. But I don’t think this’ll be any better than the last time. My head is swimming with the decisions I need to make. I need time and space to process this. I need to talk to someone. And Clara is clearly not the right choice.