I pass it over to the others who promptly pull theirs out and start scrolling through their messages because we all switched them to silent so as not to distract an axe thrower.
“To reply or not to reply, that is the question,” Dorian dramatically states, thumb hovering above the keyboard. “I’m going with not.” He tucks it back in his pocket and I grin.
He’s been handling Lucien’s moods far longer than I have and he’s well aware he needs a slap of reality. He’s falling back into old habits, and while I know his work is important and it’s hard enough taking all of the time off we need to cross over, he forgets that life passes him by while he’s locked in that office. Even if he has to work, he could have at least let her come to help out around the place so that he could spend time with her.
Cambria waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “He’s going to come home all sorts of worked up.” She turns to me and winks. “Good thing we’ve already arranged for entertainment.” There’s an ear splitting screech that makes us all promptly release each other in favor of covering our ears, cringing. “What in the ever-loving-fuck was that?”
I scan the street, not seeing anything out of place, when it happens again.
Dorian points at the building just ahead of us on the right. “Must be in the middle of some kid’s lesson.”
Shuddering, I rub my temple. “They should pay that poor teacher double to be subjected to that horror daily.”
Cambria looks like she might actually throw up when it happens again. “Nope, not standing for this travesty.” She marches ahead purposefully, right inside the studio door without knocking.
We follow behind, the horrendous screeching even more obnoxious now. It’s just one giant room, a piano off to the side out of the way, with various replacement parts and instruments hanging on the walls. A few chairs for parents are pushed off to the side and in the center, a pretty blonde I’d peg for being in her thirties is wincing. The little girl across from her can’t be more than ten and she’s sawing away at that violin like she wants to slice its neck clean off.
“I’m in the middle of a lesson, but if you’re willing to wait twenty minutes, I’ll be able to help you.” The woman gives us the cold shoulder as she reminds her pupil of the correct way to hold the bow.
Cambria practically weeps as the little girl hits a particularly sour note. “I was actually passing by and thought maybe I could help?” she nearly begs, looking at the instructor with desperation.
The woman frowns. “Why?”
Cambria just gestures to the oblivious child.
“You think you’re more qualified?” She scoffs indignantly, and Dorian rushes to intervene.
“Not at all, ma’am, she didn’t mean to insult you. Cambria just has an unparalleled love of music and always wants to help wherever she can.”
She purses her lips, but eventually nods. “Fine. Good luck.” She says the words kindly so the kid doesn’t pick up on what she’s really saying with the statement.
Cambria asks the girl to stand up, correcting her stance and hold as if it’s second nature. She stands behind her, covering the child’s hands with her own to guide her motions, and gently prompts her to where she wants her fingers on the strings. When she slowly drags the bow across, the sound is far smoother and in tune.
“There we go.” Relaxing her rigid posture, she sighs. “You’re not trying to murder the poor thing, you want to play with it. Pretend it’s your friend if that helps; you don’t want to hurt her.”
She carries on for another ten minutes at an agonizingly slow pace, but by the time she steps back and releases the reins, the girl is far more careful than before. That’s not to say her playing isgood,but the volume is more subdued and you can at least tell what song she’s trying to play; even if she botches half of the notes.
The instructor’s eyes practically bug out of her head, looking at Cambria in awe. “Three months. Three months, and yet you made more progress in ten minutes. You’re not thinking of setting up shop in town, are you?” she asks with blatant concern.
Cambria snorts. “Heck no, I don’t have the patience for this sort of thing, or children in general, honestly. I just couldn’t stand not intervening when I heard her. No offense, kid,” she tosses out there last minute to soften the insult.
The little girl shrugs, tucking a lock of her raven hair behind her ear. “It’s fine. I don’t even want to play, but my mom makes me.” There’s a flash of pain across Cambria’s face before she quickly conceals it.
Bending down so that she’s face to face with the little girl, she gives her a sad smile. “Yeah, my mother was the same way. Made it really hard to enjoy it for a while. But you know what I realized?”
The little girl hangs on her every word. “What’s that?”
“Once you learn, it becomes such an intrinsic part of you that you can’t ever imagine letting it go. It’s freeing in a way I can’t even put into words. No matter where you end up in life, you’ll always have that. That music is a part of your soul striving to get out into the world; you just need to learn how to open the door. It’s a friend that will always be with you, no matter how lonely or sad you get. Take care of that part of yourself and it will take care of you.”
The little girl cants her head to the side as if she doesn’t quite believe her or fully understand. “What do you mean?”
Cambria bites her lip, warring with herself, so I bump her shoulder, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “I’ll stop you if you start getting carried away. Go ahead.”
She kisses my cheek before asking the instructor if she has a full size one she can borrow. Curious, the woman obliges, crossing the room and returning a minute later. Cambria makes a few adjustments before stepping up the few steps onto the mock stage in the back half of the room. Tucking it beneath her chin, she closes her eyes and releases a steadying breath.
With the first draw of the bow across the strings, I’m transfixed. She makes it seem so easy, each note fluid and blending into the next seamlessly. With just a few flicks of her hand, she can run a person through the emotional gauntlet; melancholy, hopeful, and then get your heart racing in a bid to keep up with her fury.
Faster, harder, she pushes herself, always going all in. When I see the first shimmer over the violin, watch the polished wood start to transform to crystal as the piano did, I fight through the mesmerizing pull to cross the room. I circle around behind her, setting a hand on her hip and stroking my thumb back and forth so as not to startle her.
