“Yes, Gram.”
Next up on my apology tour was Millie Janikowski, who was my piano, violin, and guitar instructor at Saint Cecilia’s School of Performing Arts. I had no idea what to expect that first day of school at Saint C’s. I had mostly outgrown my desire to wear girlish things by high school, so wearing a school uniform didn’t bother me so much. I felt there was a huge advantage to wearing uniforms versus street clothes, because everyone started out as equals, at least in dress.
The “fish out of the water” feeling didn’t come from the way I dressed or how I felt on the inside. I was out and proud and I didn’t care what anyone thought of my sexuality. I had already faced the worst that could happen and survived. My insecurities came from my perception of having inferior skills than the other kids. I figured that most of them came from much wealthier backgrounds and had the absolute best instructors money could buy.
I loved my original instructor, Mrs. Merrimen, but I supposed that the other kids had a more stringent and structured training. My recitals consisted of Gram, Chase, and Ellie, where the other kids most likely played for larger crowds. Mrs. Merrimen believed I was gifted and had what it took to get accepted into Saint C’s. Gram agreed with her and took the necessary steps to get an audition for me. I’ll never forgot the look of happiness on Gram’s face when the acceptance letter arrived at our home. She took us all out for a celebratory dinner the following weekend to a swank restaurant, so how could she not be disappointed that I threw all of that away? Gram had never lied to me before, and I didn’t think she was lying then, but hearing and believing were two different things.
All my nerves vanished the moment I walked into Mrs. Janikowski’s classroom. She, like me, marched to her very own beat. She wore wildly colored outfits with hair colors to match. It was shocking to see such a vibrant instructor working at such a prestigious institution. I liked her teaching style immediately and like quickly turned into deep admiration when she took us to the piano room and played the first piece of music we’d be learning to play in school. It was also made very clear why this eccentric woman was chosen to instruct us. She was magnificent as she lost herself in the music. I wanted to be just like her.
I knocked lightly on the doorframe before entering Mrs. Janikowski’s classroom. Not much had changed in the years since I had graduated and moved on. The same posters were on the wall and the desks were still situated in the same positions, which was the exact opposite of all the other classrooms. That same vivacious woman sat behind the large desk at the front of the room. Mrs. J’s head popped up as I entered the room and a bright smile lit up her face.
“Oh my goodness! Xavier Cruz, get over here and give me a hug,” she exclaimed and rose to her feet. “It’s been way too long since you’ve stopped in to see me.” I walked to her desk and hugged her like she instructed. She patted me on the back several times and pulled back. “Where have you been? Surely that rock band of yours takes a break now and then.”
“I’m no longer with the band, Mrs. J. I’ve come home for good.” It was obvious by the expression on her face that she knew something more was at play, but she didn’t ask. I appreciated that she didn’t probe further, because I wasn’t ready to share the reasons why I left the band with people yet. I walked over and took a seat at one of the student’s desks in the front row while she sat back down in her chair. “I’m really sorry that I let you down by not going to Julliard, Mrs. J. I know you probably think I’ve squandered my talent these last years and I. . .”
“I don’t think that, Xavier,” she interrupted. “There were some instructors that were very upset that you didn’t follow that path, but I was not one of them. Look at me, Xavier.” She waved her hands up and down her torso. “Do I look like a person who gives a damn what others think? You did what you needed to do at the time, which was explore your options and there’s nothing wrong with that. Do you know how many people float around life without taking any risks? Hmm? Too damn many,” she replied, answering her own question. “I was proud of you for spreading your wings and flying instead of going down the path that someone else chose for you.”
“You were?” First Gram and now Mrs. J; it was almost too good to be true.
“I was,” she said with a nod. “Can I ask you why you’re remorseful about that choice now?” I let out a deep sigh and was about to answer when she stopped me. “You don’t need to answer that, Xavier.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “I just didn’t like the person I became and I’ve been wondering if I would’ve done better had I gone to Julliard instead of LA to join a rock band. I guess we’ll never know.”
“You’re life isn’t over, Xavier,” she reminded me gently. “So you didn’t go to Julliard, but was that ever reallyyourdream?”
“Not really,” I answered honestly. “It was such an honor to be accepted there, but I just couldn’t see myself playing in symphonies for the rest of my life, nor did I see myself performing cover songs of 80s rock bands and pop princesses.”
“I’ve seen your show several times over the years when you were on the east coast and once in Canada.” Mrs. J’s confession took me completely by surprise. “You can do a better Tina Turner than Tina herself can. Wow, you have some legs on you, kid.” She winked at me and we shared a laugh.
“You came to see me perform? Why in the world didn’t you try to come see me backstage or wait around after the performance and accost me in the parking lot?” My voice expressed the disbelief that I felt over her being so close, yet not hanging around to see me.
“Well, I did try to see you backstage on two different occasions, but your manager wouldn’t let me back there or even give you a message from me.” She must have seen what I was feeling on my face, because she leaned her elbows on her desk and rested her chin on her hands. “He’s your problem isn’t he?”
I could only nod, because I couldn’t speak around the lump that had formed in my throat. I was so ashamed that I allowed Damien to control so much of my life to the point that he kept me from seeing the people I loved the most.
“Take it back, Xavier,” she said passionately. “You don’t let a bastard like him ruin your life and dreams. Take back your life!”
“I’m trying, Mrs. J, but I’m afraid it’s too late.” I swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay. “I’ve lost my music,” I whispered painfully, “and I don’t know how to get it back.”
“What do you mean?” I explained to her how I no longer heard melodies in my head and I missed it so much. My life used to have its very own sound track, with every event creating a melody in my mind that I later put down on paper and turned into a song. “It’s from the stress, Xavier. You’ll get your music back as soon as you’ve come to peace with yourself, which is what I suspect has prompted your visit to me today.” I nodded my head in agreement. “Follow me, sweetheart,” Mrs. J said and rose from her desk.
She led me down the hall to her piano room and flipped on the light. I always loved how the lights gleamed on the shiny black surfaces of the grand pianos. I felt peace and harmony wash over me as I entered the room and approached a piano.
“Just play something, Xavier. Anything.”
So I did.
THE TRIP TOTampa was fucked from the word go. I arrived on time with the materials provided for the presentation, butnothingI presented went well. The materials weren’t in order and the power point was sloppy to say the least. I would be having a very firm conversation with Drew when I returned home. I mistakenly trusted him to put this together and was going to allow him to present it to the largest indoor aquarium in the United States without supervision. I wouldn’t be making that mistake again. It was my job as Creative Director to make sure these errors never happened. I was angrier overmylackluster job performance than I was with Drew’s.
Later that night, I sat in the hotel restaurant and ate dinner by myself. I was irritated by how my day went and by the fact I hadn’t heard from Bevan yet. How fucking hard was it to find this Drake Anderson douche anyway? I gave Bevan his name, where he worked, and the place he and Ellie met, because I figured it was one of his typical haunts. Did I need to do his job for him too? Damn, I was in a rare foul mood.
I looked up from my phone again to find a raven-haired man with a pair of fuck-me blue eyes scoping me out. Things were suddenly starting to look up. If I couldn’t get any information out of my brother then I could at least get laid. The sexy stranger kept staring at my lips and I knew what he was thinking. I’ve been told plenty of times that men fantasized about how my lips would feel wrapped around their cocks. A memory of Xavier popped up in my mind as soon as the blow job thought crossed it. I didn’t owe Xavier my fidelity, because he made it clear he didn’t want to pursue anything with me. Try as I might, I could not get the memory of Xavier out of my head as he leaned against my door with his pants around his thighs and his beautiful cock buried in my throat. The memory was so tangible that I could almost feel Xavier’s fingers in my hair, taste him on my tongue.
I had a choice to make that night. I could fuck a nameless man who I’d forget a few hours later or I could take care of business myself and hope that I wasn’t alone in the bone-deep attraction I felt when I was with Xavier. It seemed as if there really wasn’t an option after all. I broke eye contact with the man and signaled for my check. I picked up the phone and called my brother so the guy wouldn’t get the impression that I was asking for my bill so I could leave with him.
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked Van when he answered the phone.
“I’m trailing a cheating wife, which is why I haven’t called you tonight with the information. Can I call you back?”
