“It is you.” Snacks forgotten, I stepped toward the reminder of my past.
“Yo-Yo, I can’t believe it.” I shook my head at the nickname he’d called me most of my adolescence.
I threw open my arms and wrapped them around his neck. He held me tight. He was muscles, sharp bones, and expensive cologne now; such a different feel than the thin frame I used to hug all the time. I started to pull back, but he held on a second longer. He tucked his head into my neck and groaned a little as he squeezed me tight. Him being back and knowing he saw my solo tonight added to my already muddled brain.
“God, look at you.” He finally released me, his eyes glinting as they moved over my face. “You haven’t aged a day.”
We held each other’s hands and grinned like children as we shared looks of happy disbelief.
“What are you doing here?” I asked finally.
“I’m in town visiting my folks. They wanted me to see Carla’s solo. They want me to represent her.” He grimaced. “But then you came up. I knew it was you the second I saw you. My God, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.”
I blushed. It was Roddy, all these years later. Roddy from orchestra camp. First chair violin. Adored by all, and my first boyfriend. My guardian angel. He’d been the one to keep me going with his words. Even after Jethro and the time at the retreat. It was his notes I had pulled from my memory to keep me going.
He interrupted my thoughts. “You were amazing tonight. Perfect. Nobody could tear their eyes away from you.”
“Thank you.” I shook my head. I hadn’t been perfect at all. I was sloppy from nerves, especially at first.
It was hard to be complimented on my talent. I took it with a combination of modesty and deflection. “I’ve been practicing a lot lately.”
“It shows,” he said. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
“I can’t believe you’re back. You’re so huge now.” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “I mean successful.” I had heard that Roddy had left playing music himself to manage soloists instead. “I’ve heard of some of your clients—Markus Savagno and Caroline Tetch. She’s touring Asia right now, isn’t she? So impressive.”
His dimple appeared with a sheepish grin. “Just lucky.”
“Luck is timing and preparation,” I said quoting one of his notes from so many years ago.
I quoted them all the time, but only I knew that.
He shuffled with hands deep in his pockets and smiled at the ground. “You’re right. Thank you. They’re amazing clients. But tonight is about you. That performance. You should hear the buzz … I can’t believe you’re Christine Day. When did you change your name?”
“My parents thought I should have a—a stage name after …”
He cut me off. “We don’t have to talk about all that.”
Most people never wanted to discuss the darker parts of my past. It was a blip on the radar and people preferred to ignore it. Christine Day was all that mattered now. But maybe Roddy and I could talk about it. Maybe he was back to finally help me move on with my life. My chest lightened for the first time since Carla had missed practice.
“We should go out.”
“Now?” I glanced longingly again at the snacks.
“Are you too busy to celebrate?”
“Celebrate what?”
“Your successful solo.”
I frowned at that. It should have been Carla’s solo. My stomach growled loudly, and I made a face.
“I was actually about to get a snack.” I thumbed behind me to the vending machine.
He grimaced. “Don’t eat that. Come back to my box. My parents had it all set up. I have real food.”
Roddy tugged me away down the hall and I mourned the trail mix still in the snack machine. By the time we climbed back up the flights of stairs, made small talk with a few acquaintances, and wound through a pressing crowd, I was pretty dizzy. With how regularly I worked out and practiced, my blood sugar tended to be an issue. I knew better than to wait this long to eat and drink. I was highly susceptible to coquettish fits of fainting. It was pretty embarrassing actually, so I was diligent about snacking regularly.
Roddy’s box, or rather, his parent’s box, sat just left of the stage, high up with an amazing view. The room spun a little as I plopped into one of the chairs. I’d never been so grateful to stop moving.
He handed me a glass of champagne. I held up my hand and shook my head. “No thank you. I don’t drink.”
“Not even to celebrate your fantastic performance?” he asked.
I didn’t feel like arguing. I just smiled and accepted the glass.
“Cheers.” He tinged his glass against mine and took a hearty gulp. He eyed me closely, raising his eyebrows. I brought the glass to my lips and took a tentative sip.
“Cheers.”
Even the small drop in my stomach seemed to burn. Rationally, I understood that one tiny sip of fancy champagne wasn’t going to set me down a path of self-destruction again. But it was best if I steered clear. I set the glass back down and smiled.
“You don’t seem as happy as you should,” he said with a concerned frown. “You’re probably just in shock from everything. You just found out today you were going to play, right?”
“I’m happy. It’s been a lot really fast, and I think I just need to eat.”
He glanced around the box suite lined in red velvet curtains with gold tassels. “Looks like they cleared the food already. Let me go track some down. You drink that champagne.” He pulled me close and kissed my cheek with a little growl. “I’m so happy to see you again.”
I nodded and smiled.
As soon as he left, I sat back into the seat and pressed my palm to my forehead. The skin there was clammy and cool to the touch despite how I burned up. I needed to eat. I needed to breathe. For the past ten years, I had followed the same strict schedule and now all this change was all too much, too soon. I bent forward, holding my knees and taking big gulps of air as best I could as the doctors had suggested.
Something snagged my attention on the floor near the opposite seat. A folded piece of paper.
My shaky hand reached out and snagged it.
It read: Don’t let nerves make you sloppy. You’re better than that.
I smiled and gripped the note to my chest, still in that same familiar handwriting. Never had a critique felt so good. Roddy was still leaving me notes. He may have upgraded his lifestyle, but he was still my best friend from camp.
I re-read the note again and tucked it into my pocket. Roddy wanted me to be happy and successful. I picked up the champagne and stared at it for a long minute. I could relax and have a nice time. I took a big sip. The past was the past. I would be okay.
The note was still gripped in my hand when Roddy returned a few minutes later wearing the charming, easy smile of the kid that I knew. Maybe it was the high of night or the buzz of the champagne, but I felt like it had to be fate that we’d met back up like this. I’d always wished I could end up with the one who had given me all those treasured notes. Obviously, I was just getting to know Roddy again and I didn’t want to rush anything, but still, what if he had been the missing piece all these years?