Page 23 of Play Me

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” And hoping she’ll believe.

“Then why would they need me?”

Well, that shut me up.

I had never thought of it that way before. Probably because I’m a selfish bastard.

“Wow. I didn’t even think...”

“It’s OK. It was sweet, thank you.” And she gifts me with the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my life. “Thank you for thinking that I could have a chance at such amazing places as those. That you think I could do better. But that exact want for me to have something better? That’s exactly how I feel about my kids.”

Her sincerity touches me and I feel warmed by her giving spirit.

“It’s too bad that not everyone sees it that way, though.” She adds.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.” She sounds embarrassed that she’s said it.

“No, tell me.” I urge her softly.

“Well, it just looks like we’re not going to have enough money to take the kids to Nationals in Canberra. We just don’t have the money.”

“Canberra?”

“Oh, I forgot, most people don’t know that Canberra is the capital city of Australia. It’s where the National School Orchestra Competition is held.”

“How much would it cost?”

“Thousands. Thousands we don’t have and don’t have enough time to raise. For the bus, for accommodations. For the entry fees. A lot of miscellaneous costs you couldn’t imagine. Thousands...it might as well be millions.” It’s the first time, other than when she declared that there was never going to be anything between us, that she sounds like she’s given up.

“So – what will happen?” I ask, honestly interested.

“What do you think?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Strangely, she grins at me and it’s nice to see the life light up back in her. “You’ve been a privileged meeeeeeeeeeeellionaire too long. What happens when you can’t afford something? You just don’t do it!”

“Well, that seems wrong.” I said plainly.

She laughs, “Change that to ‘unfair’ and you’ll sound just like my kids.”

“I like me already.” I say haughtily.

“Well, yeah, most people like hanging around with people the same mental age as themselves,” she chuckles.

I turn to her, trying to look insulted. But seeing the light dance in her eyes makes me burst into laughter as I shrug, surrendering, “Hey, when you’re right, you’re right.”

Our laughter dies down and it’s quiet in the room, but not awkward. I’m watching her as she looks around the room, and I can see pride on her face. She’s built something here, I feel. Probably something like the pride I feel when I see our CDs on display or walk past our promo posters. Something tangible that documents the success, the result of all our hard work.

“Did you enjoy the concert last night?” I don’t want to stir up her ill feelings about last night, but I’m hoping she won’t mind talking about the performance.

She turns completely around on the piano stool, tucking her hands under her legs. She doesn’t answer immediately, but it doesn’t make me worry. It looks like she’s trying to find the right words.

“It...it wasn’t what I expected,” her words are slow and measured.

Well, that makes me a little nervous...what HAD she expected?