AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m stuck in Chicago in a fucking ice storm.
Unless there is some drastic change in the weather, I’m going to miss practice tomorrow.
I’m going to pay dearly for that. Weather is not an excuse when pulling a stunt like this. I didn’t pay attention to the weather—not here, anyway. I paid attention to the conditions that would impact my return to Colorado in Colorado, not my ability to actually leave Chicago. I had calculated everything time wise. I gain an hour returning…so even if I spent the entire night…I could get off the ground and back for our 11:00 am drills.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I’m just coming off an injury. I’ve only played a few games since.
I feel the sweat trickling down my back. Looking down at my hands, I see Nandy’s eyes follow mine and he catches the shaking before I can wring my hands together and hide it.
Claustrophobic. Yep, let’s go with that.
“Sit,” he whispers.
I stare at him. My ears are ringing now. I heard him. But the voices, the panic, it all makes it hard to act on the simple request.
He gestures to the floor and then he puts his violin case down and sits across from me. He’s so calm. So quiet.
I don’t know if that makes things better or worse. It’s all horrible. Someone is actually with me, witnessing this meltdown. Judging me…the elevator is feeling very, very small.
Maybe I am claustrophobic. Maybe it won’t be such a stretch to explain this away as that.
I exhale and sit on the floor of the elevator. At least this is a fancy building. This elevator is carpeted. Rough, old, filthy carpet…but carpet, nonetheless. Focus on that TJ. Count the little paisley scrolls. How many types are there?
1, 2, 3, 4, 5…. I reach 27 when the row I’m counting reaches Nandy’s violin case. He picked this one up from the security desk when we walked into the building. Where is the one from the concert? How many does he have?
“Is that one new?”
He furrows his brow. And then reaches for the black case.
“You picked it up when we walked in…”
He nods. “Nope, this is the first one my parents bought me. It was out being restrung. I don’t let it out of my sight for long, usually.”
He opens the case and pulls out the instrument. His face lights up as he looks at it and strokes the strings lovingly. I don’t know if his sentimentality is about the violin or his parents, maybe a bit of both? I’m pretty sure his parents are still alive. His adoptive ones. He’s done a good job of keeping them out of the media glare. I couldn’t find much info out there. Is that for their benefit or his?
I know they are wealthy and white. Nandy is a Jr. though? So, his real father…?
This is good. Keep focusing on him. My hands have stopped shaking. Sweat is still oozing out of every pore, dripping behind my ear. I can feel my hair damp against the back of my neck. I swipe it back from my forehead, my hand wet with sweat. I rub it along my pants and exhale.
Nandy. Think more about him. Ask questions. I try to conjure up something simple. He opened the door to a discussion of his parents…but that may lead to a discussion about mine. And that will not calm me down. That will do the exact opposite. That, or rather, him, my father, is one reason I am sitting here in a panic sweating through my clothes.
Before I can think of a question, Nandy places the violin under his chin and plays. Every care in the world. Every worry I have. Everything stops. Everything softens. His hands cradle the instrument so lightly. His hands are large and strong. Fingers so long. They dance across the strings and the sounds. How the hell do so many sounds come from such tiny movements of a pair of strings being touched together?
“You didn’t play that tonight.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Correct.” There is a long pause. “I’ve never played that for anyone.”
“You wrote it?”
He nods. “It’s unfinished.”
“Is that the title or a state of being?”
Nandy chuckles softly. “Possibly both.”
“Maybe it never needs to be finished to be complete,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”
