Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“He talks when it’s convenient for him,” I said. “I’m fine, Nonna. I’m disappointed for allowing myself to become a mopey old bastard, but I’m workin’ on it.”
“You’re no bastard.” She smacked my arm, and I smirked. “But I’m glad you’re working on that. Mopey is not an attractive trait.” Wasn’t a whole lot I could say in response. “It’s because you have a soft heart.” She nodded to herself. “You’re only really happy when you have someone to take care of.”
I frowned.
“Your brother’s the same,” she added. “You get that from me. It’s a blessing and a curse.”
I raked my teeth across my lip and worded myself carefully, not wanting her to get offended. “It’s difficult to see the blessing in it right now.”
“Bah.” She waved me off and stopped at a bin with discounted dates. I fucking hated those. The seeds always got stuck in my teeth. “Maybe you’re a bit spoiled too,” she grumbled. “You have your health. Your dream job—your students love you. You have your family—and friends too. A nice home. It all comes down to sharing your life with someone? I know it’s the ultimate gift, believe me, but if you can’t see the gifts you’ve already been given, maybe you’re not ready for more.”
Her words were delivered like a brick to my face. I wasn’t as devoted to church as my grandmother, so I’d never been a fan of the use of “gifts.” My job wasn’t a gift. It was something I’d worked my ass off to achieve. I’d built it with my bare hands. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have a valid point. I was being ungrateful.
Had I been ten years younger, I wouldn’t feel so impatient either. As if I were reaching my expiration date, I felt this urgency to find someone quickly so I could experience something before it was too late. That was no way to live.
“You’re a smart cookie, Nonna.”
“I keep tellin’ everyone!” She waved her fist at me.
I grinned.
Amusement seeped into her gaze, and she gestured toward the registers. “You go back to work, polpetto. I don’t think I need your help with the rest. Your father’s picking me up.”
“You sure?” If he was picking her up, it meant she was going to the salon. Otherwise, she usually took the bus—with or without Nicky. It was his thing to meet up with her at Sahadi’s once a week.
“I am sure. Go.” She nodded and placed two containers of dates in her cart. “You need your music, Anthony. It always guides you.”
I knew what she meant. I made my best decisions when I was surrounded by music because it cleared my head. Another trait I’d inherited from Nonna. She’d once been a singer. I’d seen old tapes.
I dipped down and kissed her cheek, promising I’d see her for dinner on Sunday, and then I made my way toward the exit.
Music worked.
Music always worked.
Travel jitters had set in by the time I had my next class with James the following week, but his playing helped. It was just the two of us in one of the rehearsal studios—the two of us, two grand pianos, and two spotlights.
“Für Elise” had once been James’s biggest goal to master. These days, it was his preferred piece to use for warm-up and to wind down. This was the winding down part.
We played together, and after running through the piece a few times, we were in perfect sync.
Each bar brought back memories of when he’d once struggled with the shifts in the theme, but now he played flawlessly. And he often had a small audience outside the studio, peering in through the viewer’s window. Today, that audience consisted of Nicky and nine members of our local church’s gospel choir in Williamsburg.
James paid them no mind. Only his playing existed, his fingers on the keys, the music sweeping through him.
My fingers flitted across the keys too, and I smiled to myself as the light, flowing melody turned dramatic. Right around here, James had once suffered a complete meltdown because he, in his words, couldn’t get his fingers to cooperate. He’d been thirteen.
I drew a long breath and closed my eyes.
When was the last time I’d left New York? I’d been to Canada a couple times with buddies when I was younger. I’d been to Florida twice, Miami and Key West, and in the beginning of my relationship with Shawn, we’d gone up to Provincetown for a weekend. That…yeah, that was my most recent vacation. Three days in Provincetown nearly two years ago.
I hadn’t taken time off work in over a decade, though. I’d bowed out countless times, instead. When friends were off somewhere, there was nothing weird about taking Friday off to extend a weekend trip. But there’d been no possibility for me to just cancel classes. So unless the trip would fall on a federal holiday…