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Finding the Magic (Tom Kelly's Boys Book 1) Page 2
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Page 2
I knew she was just trying to fill the silence, so I didn't say anything.
"Addison?"
"I'm here," I said.
The solitude of the elevator felt so good. I contemplated giving myself the go-ahead to start crying, but I decided to wait until I was behind the locked door of my room. Once on the eighth floor, I ran down the hallway with the phone to my ear, desperate to be somewhere that no one could see me.
I unlocked the door, went into the room, and collapsed onto the leather couch that lined the wall near the door. The tears started flowing immediately.
My mom just sat on the other end, listening for a few seconds as I cried. "Addison, you need to get a hold of yourself. It can't be this bad."
I did my best to catch my breath silently. "Mom, it's over. I can't believe I'm even saying this, but it's over."
"It's not over, Addison. Don't be so dramatic. It was one performance, and you recovered."
"Mom, the entire show stopped. I left the stage and then came back out to finish. It was the absolute worst thing that could possibly happen to a professional musician. I just lived my worst nightmare."
I flopped back onto the couch and cried, reliving the moment when I stared at the piano keys and had absolutely no idea what to do with them. I cringed with shame as I pictured the scene.
Because of the way my career sort of accidently took off, my dad was acting as my manager/agent for now, and at this very moment, I was extremely relieved that I didn't have any other phone calls to make. My mom would tell my dad for me and we'd deal with the backlash of everything when I got back to the states. At the moment, I just needed to curl into a ball on the couch.
"I need you to tell Dad for me," I said. "He might need to contact someone at the Phil, to see what we're gonna do about payment or whatever."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means I don't know if they're gonna pay me after what I just did."
My mom huffed. "Don't be ridiculous, Addison. I'm sure you're not the first person who's ever done this."
I paused before letting out a hopeless laugh. "I think it's worse than you think."
"Did they boo you off the stage or something?"
"No."
"Then what's the big deal? You had a little hick-up, you recovered, and you finished the show. You did what any professional would do."
I took a really deep, calming breath. "Mom?" I whispered. "I'm done."
***
A day later, I was on a flight back to New York. I wondered if I'd ever get over the embarrassment. It was distracting to the point of being crippling, and I thought I just might spend the rest of my life reliving it and obsessing about it.
Regret.
I was swimming in a sea of regret, and having quite a hard time keeping my head above water. I'd never in my life wished so hard that time travel was possible.
I flew back to New York feeling incredibly uncertain about my future. Continuing a career in performance was out of the question. The memory loss I suffered was too unforgettable to move on with my career. The fear of it happening again was greater than my will or desire to put myself into that position. I was broken—no longer a performer. And I was heartbroken at the realization of it.
I got to my boyfriend Kade's apartment at ten o'clock Monday night. I could've moved back home to Florida when I quit school, but I decided to stay in New York since I had a good situation. Kade's apartment was only blocks away from Juilliard and I still had access to a practice space there.
I still called it Kade's apartment because I'd only been living there for a few months. Before I moved in, I lived with three other girls in a tiny apartment that was twelve blocks from school instead of Kade's four. It was a no brainer that I'd move in with him when he asked. His place was much nicer than the place I was in, and I'd been staying there a lot anyway.
It was almost Christmas, and as I walked down the hall, I noticed that most of the doors on his floor had wreaths, or lights, or some other kind of decoration. Kade's door just had a row of sleigh bells on a strip of leather hanging from the doorknob. The bells chimed when I opened the door, announcing my arrival. I put my bags by the door and set my purse and keys on a little table he had in the entryway.
I thought I was in the apartment by myself, so it surprised me when I came around the corner and saw Kade standing in the kitchen. He was casually leaning on the counter with a mug of some hot liquid in his hand. I could tell it was hot by the way he huddled over it.
"I didn't think you were here," I said, crossing the kitchen to stand close to him. I stood close enough to lay my head on his shoulder and he patted me on the back. I'd been in touch with him after the concert, and he knew about what happened. And now, with him patting me stiffly on the shoulder like he was, I could tell he was disappointed and disconnected.
"I just have to move on from here, you know?" I said, trying to sound positive. "Figure out plan B."
"That's sad, Addison."
I pulled back to look at him. He seemed so very disappointed.
"There are other things I can do with music besides performance," I said. I shifted to try to look at him, but he avoided eye contact. "I can be a teacher or composer or both. I still have a lot to offer the world of music—just not as a performer." I said it with as much confidence as I could muster. It was the same shit I'd been telling myself for the last day and a half, and I hoped it was enough to convince him that I wasn't ready to throw in the towel on my music career. But that's exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to walk into his bedroom, close the door, and never come out.
"I'm not good with you quitting to become a teacher," he said. He stared straight ahead, still avoiding my gaze.
I put a hand in front of his face and gave it a little shake to try to get him to look at me. "What exactly do you mean when you say you're not good with it?" I asked.
"I mean, we are together because you are who you are," he said. "We're a power couple."
I cocked my head at him. Kade was from a wealthy family (hence his apartment), and went to Juilliard, but he wasn't exceptionally talented, and I honestly didn't know what he meant by power couple. I had never heard him say something like that before, and it struck me as funny. I let out a little laugh, but he just stared stone faced at the other side of the kitchen.
"Are you saying you don't want to be with me anymore if I'm no longer a performer?"
"Well, obviously not Addison, because a performer is who you are."
I stared at him, completely confused. "I'm not a performer anymore, Kade. At least not at that level."
He finally looked at me. His eyes met mine and his expression begged me to see things his way. "You're still a performer. This was a one-time thing. Everybody falls. You have to pick yourself up and get back out there."
I smiled at him sadly. "I can't do it anymore," I said shaking my head. "I'll never be able to do anything at that level again. The fear of a repeat is too crippling."
"No offense or anything, but I think that's just showing weakness of character," he said.
Offense taken, asshole.
I stared at him with a disbelieving expression. "Can you not bring yourself to love a teacher, Kade?"
I expected him to deny it or at least look ashamed, but he just shook his head. "No. Hell no. I'm not letting you quit."
"It's not your decision to make. I quit. Past tense. It happened already."
A moment of awkward, tense silence passed before he shook his head. "I'm sorry but if you're not willing to persevere, then you're not the person I thought you were."
"Are you saying you don't want to be with me if I quit performing?"
"I'm saying that I warned you about jumping into this touring situation feet first like you did. I wanted you to finish up at Juilliard, but you and your dad wanted to take every gig that was offered."
"You just said you don't want to be with me if I quit performing, but then you turned around and said you tried to warn me about p
erforming in the first place. Which is it?"
"It's both," he said. "If you would've listened to me, this wouldn't have happened in the first place. But now that you're on this path—now that you've chosen to put yourself out there, you can't just quit."
"Well, I can tell you right now my career as a concert pianist is over. I'm still trying to sort out what I can possibly contribute to music or the world in general, but I'm done sitting at the fucking piano in front of an audience."
He regarded me with a disappointed, almost disgusted expression. "You're not the person I thought you were," he said shaking his head.
I was unable to believe he was leaving me at a time like this. "I guess you're not the person I thought you were either," I said.
He seemed so emotionless toward me, and I stared at him in disbelief, feeling like my life was completely unraveling.
Chapter 3
"I'm gonna go spend the night at Rachel and Jon's so you can figure out what you're doing."
I squinted at him, wondering if I was hearing him right. "Are you saying I have the night to get my shit and get out?"
He regarded me like it was a stupid question. "It's not really gonna work for us to live together if we're broken up, and I figured you would be the one to leave since it's my apartment."
I flinched at his words. He was so cold that I honestly had no idea what I ever saw in him. "You’re a real asshole."
He rolled his eyes. "Call me what you want, but it would never work out with us if you're the type of person who gives up this easily."
I couldn't help it.
I had to cry.
I was already so hopeless and frustrated with myself that his hurtful words put me over the top. My eyes stung as tears filled them and spilled out onto my cheeks. Kade was so disappointed with how my failure affected him that he didn't even stop to consider how it affected me.
I wiped my eyes, doing my best to stop the tears from coming out, and then looked up at him. He stared back at me with such indifference that I was disappointed in myself for ever being with him.
"I'm going back to Florida," I said.
I was probably hoping to get a little bit of a rise out of him, but he didn't give me that. He just shrugged and threw a hand up as if to say what I chose to do was of no consequence to him.
I felt nauseous, but tried to remain expressionless. "Text me before you come back tomorrow because I'm not sure what time I'll be out of here."
"Just text me when you're out."
Those were the last words Kade said to me. He set his mug on the counter and walked out of the apartment without glancing back.
I had never in my life been so ashamed. I was still drowning in a sea of regret about the concert, and his coldness toward me was just another crushing blow. I took my clothes off right there in the kitchen and ran to the bathroom, turning the bath water on as I stepped into the bath. I let the water run on my feet for a few seconds before it was warm enough for me to sit down.
Baths had always been a source of comfort to me, and I felt like the bathtub was the only reasonable place for me to be at that moment. I sat in it and cried ugly tears with my head in my hands. I cried embarrassed, angry, hurt tears that had my head pounding within minutes.
I let myself cry until the headache got distracting, and then I got a grip on myself enough to quit the sobbing. I sank under the water until I was fully submerged. I opened my eyes and could see my long, brown hair floating in the water above me. I focused past my hair and could see the outlines of the ceiling tiles. I didn't usually do weird things like hold my breath in the bathtub, but it was one of those days. I came out of the water, smiling a little at how delirious I was.
I shampooed and conditioned my hair in the bathtub even though I usually only did that in the shower. I didn't even know what I usually did. I was finding it hard to even remember who I was. Where in the world could I go from here? I felt like I was in a free-fall and it was up to me to try to figure something out before I hit the ground.
Or was I hitting the ground already?
I wasn't really sure.
Who knows how long I stayed in the bath. I was as confused as ever when I got out, but I didn't have a choice, I had to start making moves.
I'd pretty much decided that I was moving back to Florida. The first thing I did after I got dressed was make a call to my mother.
"Did you make a good trip?" my mom asked, answering the phone.
"Yeah, the flight was good."
"You all right?"
I sighed. "I'm just going through a lot right now. Kade and I broke up and I'm thinking I need to move back home."
"Did he break up with you because of what happened in—"
"No." I laughed nervously. "Actually, I was the one who broke up with him," I lied (because the truth was far too humiliating). "It was a long time coming, and I guess everything in London made me just reevaluate."
She was quiet for a few long seconds. "Dad and I were talking about your options, and we both think it's in your best interest to just stay up there and finish up at Juilliard."
"Well Mom, I'm sorry to disappoint but I just don't think that's what I want to do—especially now that I broke up with Kade. There's no point in me staying at Juilliard if I'm not continuing with performance. I can study theory or composition in Miami."
She sighed. "When are you looking at coming back?"
"Now. Tomorrow."
"We're two hours from Miami," she said.
"I know that, Mom; I grew up there, remember? I was thinking I'd call Megan. She's staying in her parents' guesthouse until she finishes up with school and I know she has an extra bedroom."
Megan Richie was my best friend since the eighth grade. We went to a private, catholic school together and kept in touch even after graduation when I moved to New York and her whole family moved to Miami. When we graduated, her father moved his business down there. Megan was going to college there, but that wasn't the only reason he moved his business. As Jensen Beach's most sought-after plastic surgeon, he thought he'd outgrown the small town and wanted to move to Miami anyway.
They lived in a beautiful, waterfront home on the north side of Miami, and I knew I'd be welcome there. The Richies were like family to me, and I thought of their house as a second home growing up.
"Sounds like you've already been making plans."
"I haven’t talked to Megan yet."
"Why don't you just hold off on that for now? You could come home for Christmas and think about everything before you go burning bridges in New York."
"Mom, I already told you I'm not finishing school at Juilliard."
"It's just that these types of big decisions aren't something you take lightly."
"Anne," I said in a measured tone. "I can assure you I'm not taking any of this lightly. And I'm not calling to get your permission. My mind is already made up. I'm leaving New York and I'm coming to Florida. I'm going to stay with you and dad during the Christmas break and maybe for a little bit this spring, but I'm thinking I'll stay with Megan while I finish school."
"What are you gonna study?"
"I don’t know—probably musicology or composition. I might try to teach."
"Brie will be glad to have you back."
Brie was my older sister who moved back to Jensen after college and was working as a physical therapist.
"Does she know what happened in London?" I asked.
"I told her you had a bad night, but she had no idea it would be anything that would cause you to move back."
I was quiet for a few seconds, not knowing what to say. "It was a pretty big deal," I said, finally.
She didn't respond to that. Instead she said, "I'm going to get your room ready. When do you think you'll be home?"
"Probably tomorrow sometime." I knew I had a pretty good chunk of change saved from the concerts I performed during my short career, and I was feeling just reckless enough to spend a little of it. "Tell dad I'm gonna want to go to a car d
ealership too. I'm gonna need transportation down there."
"I'll catch him up on what's going on," she said. "In the meantime, you just let us know what your plans are when you figure them out."
Within a minute I hung up the phone with my mother and placed a call to Megan.
"What's up super star?" was how she answered the phone, and I cringed.
"Hey, I'm good, how are you?" I said, trying to sound upbeat. "I've been done with school for a week now, and I've just been getting into trouble." I didn't doubt that was true. Megan was always the one getting us in trouble.
"I'm moving back to Florida," I said.
"Nu-uh!" She sounded excited, which was more than I could say for my mother. "What made you decide to come back?"
I sighed. "I'm not going to be touring anymore, and then I broke up with Kade. It's just time to make a change."
"What happened?"
"It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime."
"Are you okay?"
"Oh yeah, I'm good. It's a lot of change, but it's all good change," I said, lying through my teeth.
"Good," she said. "I'm excited you're coming back. Does that mean I'll get to see you more often?"
"That's why I'm calling. I'm thinking about finishing school in Miami and wanted to see if you guys had room for me to maybe stay there."
"What? Are you moving in my crib you little bitch?"
I smiled because I could tell by her voice that she was excited.
"I'm not going to be at school with you because I finish up this semester, but I'm still staying in the guesthouse for a while after I graduate."
"Are you sure you and your parents don't mind? It'll just be for a year."
"Just get your little ass down here!"
I giggled. Megan always started talking like her little brother when she got excited, and it never failed to crack me up.
"I'm going to stay with my parents in Jensen while I sort things out, but I'm thinking I'll want to move down sometime in spring or early summer."
She let out an excited yell. "Ahhh, I can't wait!"
I sighed and closed my eyes, basking in the glory of someone not being disappointed and awkward with me for a change. "I love you Megs," I said.