“Like practicing for an audition I have tomorrow,” Crystal says.
“Or creating an agenda for a spring concert,” I add.
“Or having sexy times with the husband,” Lisa chimes in. Crystal and I roll our heads in her direction. “What?” she says, shrugging. “Two kids, remember? Some day you’ll understand.”
Crystal and I just shake our heads and laugh. At least Lisa has someone to go home to at night. Crystal and I are still hopelessly single, though not for the lack of Crystal’s efforts. She is constantly on Tinder and Match, swiping left and right. I think working all those weddings every weekend makes her wistful. I just hope she doesn’t choose someone based on what society thinks she should do by a certain age. No woman should ever settle.
“Hey, Emma, I saw I have eight kids in my Introduction to the Violin class. That’s too many,” Lisa says, her lips perched on her paper cup.
“I know,” I say apologetically. “I couldn’t deny the little guys. I mean, a seven-year-old who wants to play the violin? That’s amazing. What did you want me to do, tell them they had to take the drums?”
Lisa’s head tilts forward and gives me her deadpan stare. “I need a co-teacher. It’s impossible to teach that many kids, that age, with no musical experience, at once.” She ticks off the challenges using her three fingers.
“I asked Frank. There’s no funding for another teacher. Sorry.”
She gives me an exasperated look, her free hand flying out in a dramatic gesture. “You’re a classically trained violinist. Why can’t you teach them with me?”
Damn Frank for boasting about my has-been career. I hate this. I hate that I can’t even teach a child to hold a bow. I hate that everyone knows I’m incompetent in my craft. I rub my hand and try to figure out a way to avoid the conversation.
Crystal senses my unease. “Emma is way too busy setting up the program. If she had the time to teach she’d be doing so. Maybe she can get you an intern or something.”
Lisa nods and tells Crystal that’s a good idea. I, in turn, thank her with my eyes.
News reporters, students, teachers, parents, and local political representatives have all arrived for the special occasion. It’s a beautiful October day so a spot in the afternoon sun is greatly appreciated.
Cameramen point their cameras at a podium situated a few feet from the front of the building. First, a woman from the Children’s League makes a short speech and introduces the mayor. Everyone claps and listens as he deems the Juliette Academy a great asset to the city of New York.
More people have appeared in the crowd, many seem to be nosey passersby looking to see what the commotion is. My back gets slightly jostled and I have to steady myself on the pavement.
Calm down people. It’s just a school opening. Not a Jay-Z sighting.
“Oh, my God, he’s here,” Crystal breathes out in a loud whisper, moving closer to me and Lisa.
I hip check the guy to the side of me and let him know two can play this game. “Who’s here?” I ask Crystal, missing part of her statement.
“—No one has seen him for months. He just disappeared one day,” Crystal continues, her breath hitching a bit.
“Eh, I don’t see the appeal. At all.” Lisa rolls her eyes.
I get shoved again and am about to tell the person to shove it when the mayor says something that causes my jaw to drop, my stomach to lurch, and my heart to nearly explode.
“Alexander Asher.”
The crowd erupts in applause. I look up at the podium.
Asher.
He’s here.
He’s walking up to the podium.
He’s shaking the mayor’s hand.
I gasp at the sight of him.