“It’s not too late,” she reminded him with a wry grin. “You’re still a kid.”
“Thirty-two is not a kid,” he said seriously, but he looked like one to her at times. And she was fifteen years older, and they had been action-packed years. “That’s why I got out of it with the married woman. I don’t want to waste the next fifteen years waiting for someone else to get their life together, while they screw up mine. I finally had to think of myself.”
“So will you stay at Caldwell?” Blaise asked him, curious about him as a person now.
“I don’t know. Maybe not. I want to send some applications around to other schools while I’m here, bigger ones, preferably one in a city, where I’ll have a fuller life. And I don’t want to fall into the same trap again with her, if I go back to Caldwell after this year. I have to go back when they reopen, to honor my contract, but after that I don’t know.”
“I think you’re capable of more,” she said, and he was touched that she thought so. He had a lot of respect for her, more so now that he had seen her at home, what she stood for, and what she did, and the toll it took on her. She was the first to admit that she hadn’t been present enough for Salima, but she was an honest, honorable person.
“Thank you. At least I’d like to try,” Simon said, about doing more with his life. “Otherwise I’ll never know. I don’t need to be a star, or even want to be. I just need to be the best I can be at what I do.” He looked very earnest as he said it.
“From what I can see so far, you are the best. Eric said so. Give yourself a break. What you do is very noble. And if you want to, you’ll find a better job. You have everything you need, the credentials, the talent, the motivation, the gift. What you do for others is a gift.” Salima had begun to blossom in just two days, and she could see the difference now between Abby protecting her and holding her back, and Simon inspiring her to do more with herself. And he was kind to Blaise too.
They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Blaise stood up and said she had to go to bed. She had to get up in an hour, and he apologized for keeping her up.
“It was worth it,” she said in a gentle tone. “Sometimes I get scared at night when I think about my life. All I see are the mistakes in the past, and the dangers up ahead.”
“We all do,” he said gently. “Don’t be so hard on yourself.” One of the things she was coming to like about him was that he wasn’t impressed by who she was. He respected her and thought she’d had an amazing career, but he wasn’t dazzled by the tinsel. He understood who Blaise was, and just like her, he was real. They both knew that was rare. Simon treated her as though she were an ordinary, normal person, not a star. No one had done that in years.
“Goodnight, Simon,” she said, and waved from the doorway. “You don’t have to get my coffee ready in the morning. Get some sleep.” It was more than she would be able to do, having to get up in an hour, but he could sleep in till Salima got up.
“Someone has to take care of you,” he said seriously. “From what I can see, no one else does. You take care of everyone else, or at least you’re responsible for them.” He was the first person who had noticed it in years, maybe ever. And he was right. No one took care of her, and no one ever had. She was a fighter and a survivor, used to doing everything on her own. “At least I can provide hot coffee and some decent dinners while I’m here. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“It’s a lot,” she said. “Thank you. Goodnight.” She closed the kitchen door, and he went back to his room. And she went back to hers, after she checked on Salima, feeling like she’d found a friend. It was a nice thing to have.
Chapter 7
WITH ALL THE pressures and tension at the network, finding a music teacher for Salima had slipped Blaise’s mind. She and Simon were singing together almost every night, and Salima was having fun, but Mark hadn’t dropped the ball on the project, even if Blaise had. A week after she’d made the request, he put a memo on her desk for her to find after her morning segment.
There were three names with phone numbers and e-mails, two women, one man, two from LaGuardia High School of Music & Art and Performing Arts, and one from Juilliard. His memo said he had spoken to all of them, and Blaise wandered out to his desk to discuss it with him.
“So who did you like best?” she asked, impressed with his thorough research. Salima was going to be thrilled.
“The one from Juilliard, hands down. The others sounded good, but the woman from Juilliard was more appealing. A little wacky maybe, but she was excited to work with Salima even though she’s blind. I thought the other two might be more nervous about it, although I could be wrong. And all three come from great schools.”