“I prefer Rachel Green. And for your information, I am curled up on the chesterfield, drinking a nice Pinot and listening to the soulful sounds of Joshua Bell.” I take a sip of my wine and twist my face a bit. I said it was a nice Pinot, not a great one.
“First, you are so a Monica. Second, the couch is awesome but you need to stop referring to it as ‘the chesterfield.’ It makes you sound like Grandma. Next, I’m jealous, and last . . . what was the last thing you said?”
I laugh into my sleeve. “Joshua Bell,” I remind her.
“Oh, yeah. Boring! Throw on some pop music and dance around in your underwear. That’s what I do.”
If Leah could see me she’d be privy to an eye roll. I know she dances around in her underwear. I grew up with her and witnessed it many times.
“I got the wedding invitation. Do I have to RSVP? You know I’m going.”
“Of course you’re going. My maid of honor has to be there. That’s actually why I’m calling. I decided I want my bachelorette party to be in, drum roll please,” Leah’s hands can be heard slapping a table on her end of the phone in a drum roll pattern. When they come to a halt, she shouts in her best game show voice, “New York City!”
My legs swing around from under me and hit the floor. “You’re coming here?” My voice squeaks in excitement. “When?”
“In a few weeks. Halloween gets crazy around here and of course there’s Thanks Conaughey weekend so that leaves the middle of the month as the best time.” Leah’s mouth crunches around a potato chip, the sound easily recognizable through the phone.
My toes dance at the thought of seeing Leah. I haven’t seen anyone in my family since I moved to New York. Even when I lived in Pittsburgh we saw each other at least once a month. “I will have to start researching the best places to go. I haven’t gone out since I’ve been here—”
“Ems,” her curt voice cuts me off, “you’ve lived out there for two months. What do you mean you haven’t gone out?”
This—coming from my social butterfly of a sister—is expected. She thrives on going out and meeting new people. It’s in her nature. Not mine.
When I first got to New York, I had two weeks to find an apartment before my new job began. I stayed in a hotel, spending way too much of my savings to do so, before I found a place to live. And for the last six weeks I’ve been working my ass off getting the Juliette Academy ready for opening day.
The Juliette Academy is a free after-school music school for children in New York City. It is offered to everyone, regardless of economic status. You are accepted through a lottery. All you need to enroll is a New York City address and the willingness to learn.
I love the school’s name. Juliette sounds like a mini-Julliard. It’s a cute play on the name of the famous school uptown where some of the greatest musicians have trained.
A lot of inner-city kids submitted an application for entry. I wish I could give the spots to only those kids but the lottery is open to everyone. Our first run is two hundred and fifty kids, each receiving a lesson once a week. If they progress, they can apply for grants or pay out of pocket for more lessons.
Running a program isn’t what I had planned for my life. In fact, if I weren’t at the place in my life I was this summer, I never would have taken it. But I needed out and New York was a perfect escape.
I’ve kept myself busy hiring the final round of teachers and working on a curriculum for them to follow. My job description also requires me to make sure every applicant is in the proper class for their age and skill level as well as make sure they have the proper equipment. Ordering two hundred and fifty instruments with the budget I had was difficult but it got done.
And then, of course, it was getting said two hundred and fifty kids in the right classrooms with the right teachers with the right equipment—
Yeah, I’ve been so engrossed in getting the program up and running I haven’t had time to go out.