And later in that lesson, when I’d had her play a more dramatic, melancholy piece, she’d hidden away even more. She didn’t take the pain I knew she felt and use it — she ran from it.
That would be our biggest hurdle.
“What do you think so far?” I asked when I spotted Fight Club sticking out of her bag next to her mat. The bookmark was about a third of the way in.
She eyed me curiously for a second before she followed my gaze, and she smiled. “Honestly, I’m just happy I got past the first chapter. I thought for sure it’d go into my did not finish pile, along with every other book I’ve tried to read this year.”
“So, you like it so far?”
She shrugged. “I think so. He’s got a dark sense of humor, and I love the subtle hints of minimalism. Crazy to think about how much we think we need that we really don’t.”
I nodded, impressed that she’d already picked up on that. “You meditate, eat plant-based food, and know the definition of minimalism. Are you sure you’re only twenty-one? Because you take better care of yourself than I ever did at that age.”
Sarah chuckled. “Not hard to do, judging by all the cereal at your place.”
“Touché.”
We fell silent then, and she slipped back into her calculated breathing while I fought the urge to light up another cigarette. I needed to get back inside, but as I watched her on her mat, I couldn’t shake our last lesson — the way she’d looked at my piano, like she was about to fight it instead of play it. I’d never battled an injury like hers, but I had experienced the same shift in relationship with the piano. It was the most unnerving thing, to have an instrument that was supposed to be your closest friend, your easiest confidant, shift into a monster before your very eyes.
The road to rekindling that relationship was long and dusty and rough, and I wished she didn’t have to travel it. But she did, and I needed her to understand what the journey would require of her.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked when she started rolling up her mat.
Sarah stilled, her hands clamped over the rolled-up mat as she flicked her eyes to mine. “I…” She opened her mouth, shut it again, and then cleared her throat. “I mean, I work until ten.”
“And after?”
She shrugged. “I’m new to town and I live with my aunt and uncle,” she answered with a subdued smile. “I don’t exactly have big plans.”
I fought the urge to smile. “Good. I want to take you somewhere.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “You do?”
“It’ll be part of our lesson,” I explained, checking the time on my watch. I was already a few minutes over my break, and not that I was being watched that closely, but I knew the sooner I finished my set list, the sooner I could get out of there. “Meet me here when you’re done.”
“Wait,” she said, standing with the mat under her arm. “Where are we going?”
“I’d like to just take you there, if that’s okay. Trust me. It’ll make sense when we get there.”
“Okay,” she answered softly, but there was a hint of panic behind her wide eyes — one that made me instantly aware of how aggressive I’d been.
“Are you comfortable with that?” I asked her. “With going somewhere with me? It’s a public place, and I won’t keep you out too late. I promise.”
She breathed a little easier then, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry, I just…” But she didn’t finish her sentence. Her words faded, and she closed her eyes, smiling when they opened again. “Just know I’m bringing my pepper spray. And I’m not afraid to use it.”
I pushed off the wall on a laugh, swinging the door open as the chatter from the kitchen filled the space around us. “Deal. And just so you know, I’m bringing my pepper spray, too.”
Sarah chuckled.
“My time’s up. I’ll leave you to your good habit and take my bad one back inside with me.”
She flushed then, and like she still had hair on her head to brush away, one hand slid behind her ear as her eyes fell to her mat. “Sorry I ragged on you.”
I chuckled. “Honestly, I needed it. It’s been a while since someone has called me on my shit.” I knocked my knuckles once on the door, offering one last smile. “See you in a bit.”
“See you,” she squeaked.
My smile slipped the farther I walked into the kitchen, the temporary relief I’d found from the nicotine and my conversation with Sarah disappearing altogether once the door shut behind me. I handed Ronaldo his pack and lighter with dread settling back in my stomach.
Just a couple more hours, I told myself as I swung through the kitchen door and back into the restaurant.
My eyes involuntarily drifted to table thirty-two, and Charlie’s parents waved back at me excitedly as I forced another smile, remembering what I’d run outside to escape in the first place. Cameron was smiling at something Charlie had said, and he leaned in to kiss her cheek, sending my stomach churning. I wondered if he knew I was watching, if that was the reason he’d done it.
But that wasn’t Cameron.
If I knew anything about him, it was that he was twice the man I was. And truthfully, he probably didn’t even care that I still existed. He’d won, after all. He had the girl. The family.
He had everything I wanted.
Just a couple more hours, I repeated.
Why did it feel like a lifetime?
Sarah
My father grew up in Mount Lebanon.
We’d made the trip north for nearly every Christmas when I was younger, but we’d mostly stayed at my grandparents’ house or at Uncle Randall’s. Exploring the city wasn’t at the top of our list, especially since my father’s side of the family was all the family we really had. My mom had fled from Haiti, and her parents had passed away only a few years after she’d left, so when we were fortunate enough to visit my father’s family, we cherished the time.
Maybe that’s why my face was pressed against the glass of the rickety old car that slowly pushed us up the side of Mount Washington, the city lights spanning out and growing wider the higher we got. The Duquesne Incline was one of the top tourist attractions in Pittsburgh, and yet I’d never had the experience.
Until tonight.
I wondered if my dad had ever sat there, in that same spot, looking out that same window. I wondered if he brought my mom there, or if my grandparents took him and my uncle when they were kids. I wondered how many generations of my family had existed in the same space I now resided in.
Somehow, I felt them all there with me.
My hands were in the pockets of my light jacket, one wrapped around the pepper spray I’d brought with me. I was pretty sure Reese thought I was joking about it earlier, but I’d been as serious as a car accident. Being alone with him in his house was one thing, but going to a non-disclosed place with him at night was another. I liked Reese. I liked the way he talked to me, the way he played piano, the way he seemed to see what others didn’t.
But that didn’t mean I fully trusted him.
He was still a man. And I was on my guard.
Reese sat quietly in the far corner, the two of us the only ones in the small cable car. It ran until half past midnight, which gave us just a little over an hour before we’d have to make the trip back down. I didn’t know why we were here, or how any of this could possibly be tied to our piano lessons. But, I knew he wouldn’t have asked me to come if it wasn’t important — especially on a Saturday night. A man who looked like him, who played the way he just played in front of a restaurant packed with people? I was one-hundred-percent positive he had better offers on how to spend his evening.