‘You can trust me,’ he says, unable to meet my eyes, pain spreading across his face, his energy pulling away from mine already. ‘But you’ve read the tabloids.’
What’s that supposed to mean?
‘Audrey, sorry. I just need a minute.’
47
FRASER
‘Who’s in the room?’ Joshua asks me once the piano falls quiet.
How do I answer that?We both look like we’ve seen a ghost. It sounded like Audrey, until it didn’t …
‘It’s got to be Parker,’ he says, matter-of-factly.
Is he jet lagged?
‘How could it be, Josh? She’s thirteen. That was really advanced.’
He stares at me for a second, trying to work out my point. ‘Sheisreally advanced. You’ve heard her! How do you think she got into this gifted program?’
‘She’s in Year Seven. That piece was composed by someone who almost got through her doctorate.’The less said about that, the better.
‘And the transition into the new section is glorious,’ my brother says. ‘You should be soaring.’
He pushes past me, knocks lightly on the door, then opens it a little, peeks in, and quickly throws it open all the way. ‘Thought I heard my favourite niece!’
She leaps off the piano stool and rushes over to him, throwing her arms around his neck while I compute the exponential development of her talent, and the fact that I’ve missed it.
‘Uncle Josh! I didn’t know you were here yet!’
‘Would I miss a chance to hear you perform?’
I should be soaring.
He’s right. I can’t believe that was Parker playing. The realisation of what my unresolved grief has been pushing away punches me in the gut.
‘Can I play you something?’ she begs her uncle, face shining. She’s always longed for his feedback, ever since he introduced her to the piano when she was tiny. She glances at me. ‘You don’t have to stay, Dad.’
All this time, she’s been making allowances like this while I’ve been extinguishing the stars in her eyes. It’s been three years of turning music off, of hitting mute and leaving rooms. Three years of jogging only to podcasts and audiobooks, of driving listening to talk-back radio, and of leaving events before the DJ kicks off. Three years ofParker, can you play that somewhere else?Of buying two concert tickets, psyching myself up to go, and then giving the other one to Maggie.
As my brother stands close to the piano and she double-checks he’s listening, I realise it’s been three years of missing out not just on music. Missing out on Parker. Time that I’ve lost sharing the one thing she loves more than anything else in the world and, worse, the outlet she’s used to bring herself through the loss of her stepmum.
Josh catches me floundering. I thought I’d done so well. I manage my mental health like a pro. I take the medication. I go to counselling.Why can’t I handle this?The sight of my gifted daughter in her element.
Just as I’m about to walk out, he pulls me beside him while she plays, throwing his arm around me the way he used to do when we were boys and I fell off the equipment at the playground, or I was tormented by the neighbourhood bullies. After yearsof frostiness between us, this touch of humanity hits almost as hard as the notes she’s playing.
This music sounds like Audrey.It sounds like everything I’ve missed with Parker. It sounds like bad parenting and cowardice and makes it desperately clear that unless I can conquer this grief, I’m going to lose my daughter, too.
‘I am shutting out my own child,’ I admit to Josh once Parker has packed up and gone to a tutorial. ‘Denying the part of her that connects her to Audrey, because they were kindred spirits on this.’
He knows that feeling. I wait for him to remind me he was Audrey’s kindred spirit first.
‘Give yourself a break,’ he says, instead. ‘You’re parenting through a horrible situation, and look at her. She is a fantastic, talented kid. You know, I’m envious of you. You got the family I always wanted.’
Has he been paying attention?
I glare at him. ‘You’re aware my first marriage ended in divorce and the second in death? What can you possibly find to envy here?’
