The Gift, page 29
Chapter
Fifty-Seven
Being back to my schedule this week convinces me further that one of my two career choices needs to become reality—and fast. The kids are still in vacation mode at school, unable to focus and somehow unable to stop talking during class, while my private students keep cancelling lessons since they’re sick from holiday bugs. Feeling cooped up and ready to scream is putting it lightly.
Speaking of, Christian and I are on our way to watch 2CELLOS. I thought this would be time to see if we can be us again, but all I keep thinking is that I’d rather be going with anyone else. I know, that’s awful to say about my husband, the one who bought these tickets to try to be nice, but it’s the truth. My missing feelings for him haven’t resurfaced, and with each day that passes, I don’t have a large urge to search for them anymore. Sadly, more and more, I envision myself single…and find peace in the images.
Just picture it… I wouldn’t have to be on guard for everything I do and say, I could spend time with anybody I choose and not be reamed for it, and I could relax in my own damn home. Not only would there be no weird tension at home but none in front of my family either. Giving up ten years of marriage would be difficult, but I can’t see it being more difficult than how I’m living now.
Just look at him, driving over there. He’s gripping the wheel with both hands, at the ten and two o’clock positions, with board straight arms. Responsible? Yes. Annoyingly proper? Yes, times infinity. Doesn’t he ever want to be free from structure anymore? Doesn’t he ever want to recline his seat and ride with one arm on the wheel while one’s propped on the window, feeling the cool air blow through his hair? As a queasiness washes over my body, making my stomach tighten, I can hardly stand the sight of the well-known scene.
“What?” He glances at me.
“What?” Oops, I must’ve been staring.
“I saw you peering at me. What’s wrong now?” He switches his vision between me and the road multiple times, never loosening his arms.
“Now? Nothing. What do you mean?” How can we be bickering on our way to hearing one of the greatest pair of cellists on the planet perform? Let’s at least wait until intermission.
“Okayyy,” he moans. “This is supposed to be an enjoyable night.”
Sounds like a statement I’ve made, or thought, about five million times. “Uh…yeah. I love 2CELLOS.” My voice climbs to cover up any nerves.
“That’s why I bought the tickets for you, being the world’s best husband.” He smirks, pulling into the Hollywood Bowl parking lot, seemingly oblivious to my mask.
Can’t he ever leave his ego out of a conversation?
Instead of going down that road, I focus on the road ahead and say, “Thank you. It’ll be great to see them, and I always love coming here.”
“It’s a beautiful venue.” He changes lanes as his voice stays robotic, making his accurate statement lose all meaning.
Once sitting inside, I admire the stage under the half dome of the amphitheater, set simply with the two cellos of the members of 2CELLOS dead center, purple lights pinpointing a shine on their thin, black bodies surrounding the inner strings. How much I would’ve loved to play on that outdoor stage with LA Phil only a year ago. I’d still take a performance with Luka and Stjepan any day—we’re on a first name basis in my head, of course.
I nestle into my seat, breathing in the brisk LA night air, and shuffle my cotton scarf to form more coverage on my neck. “It’s colder than I thought it’d be tonight. Glad I wore this sweater.”
“Yeah, well, I can keep you warm.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond before plopping one arm on my shoulder and yanking me his way.
My body stiffens—and not from the temperature. I can’t play games anymore, so I tap his clutched hand and push back to the opposite direction. My peripheral vision catches Christian’s turned head, but neither of us speak a word.
Every unrhythmic movement we make and every lack of desire to interact with my husband keeps nagging me this week, conveying I have one choice that must prevail. I’m going to accept LA Phil’s offer. I need to.
You read right, folks. I can accept the offer and gain Christian’s satisfaction plus have a stable job with great pay and my own insurance. The second reason wins out for me, though. We can still go to therapy and see if our union can be saved, but if not, I’ll have security and can depend on myself.
Grr, I never want to sound like Christian with all his boring financial talk, but it’s needed. And I need to look out for me, because he pretends to look out for us yet only seeks personal fulfillment—and a wet noodle that will do whatever he wants while calling me whatever derogatory names come to his mind. That isn’t allowed by Toni Agosti anymore. Not this year and not ever again.
Once 2CELLOS enters the stage moments later, thank God, I forget about the real world and escape with them to Celloland. They kick off the show with a serene opening number of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” then segue over to a few songs into their legendary rock anthems. I’m instantly enthralled by their technique and showmanship, as always. When I say they smash out songs like Michael Jackson’s “Smooth Criminal” and Guns N’ Roses’ “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” I mean it literally.
“They’re amazing!” Christian shouts to me as bows disintegrate from the force the guys use in playing on their cellos’ strings.
“I know! Look at that passion.” I can’t help but be pumped as they take us along on their musical ride. Just witnessing their performance on the hollow electric cellos—only encompassing a neck, an outline for a body, and strings to connect the two—sends me on a minute-long consideration of tossing both dreams and begging those two hotties to allow me to join them as a third in their act. I’d rock it out with them, smashing bow hairs to unexpected tunes played by cellists. That’s what they do best.
Not what I do best, though. I giggle, imagining me playing with their charisma.
“They’re the greatest!” I shriek as soon as the duo plays the last note then runs off stage. “Ahh, I can hardly stand it. I love them so much.”
“And I love you.” Christian’s once-comforting eyes meet mine.
I grin. Instead of returning his sentiment, I guess I could give him another gift in return. Seeing this show, I know I can at least be mostly happy about continuing to play cello for a crowd who’d enjoy an orchestra’s show. “I’m accepting LA Phil’s offer.”
He stops exiting the row and turns around. “You have to. I wouldn’t let you do anything else,” glides from his lips as he immediately returns to leaving the grounds.
No excitement. No congrats. Just more of the same conceit.
The voltage from the performance turns off like a switch. But it’s okay. Electricity remains when I think how I can save more money in the next few years and still open my winery. It’ll take longer than I want, but I’ll still get there.
The key is that I can do both. I’ll play with LA Phil, continue teaching my private students—socking away money—and find new land in Temecula Valley. The gorgeous property of my dreams will be long gone, I’m sure, but that means there’s another plot out there for me.
Yes, that’s it.
But…
I’ll wait to tell Lesley about the change in plans. If I informed her of an update at every turn, she’d block my number. “Hey, Lesley. I’m in, I’m out, find me an apartment. No, never mind. I still want that tasting room and vineyard. Nope, never mind again.” Seriously, I’d even lose my number.
A bonus (not a barrier!) of all this is that proving to myself I could get a spot in LA Phil fulfills a lifetime of wondering if I was good enough. Now, I want to see if I’m good enough in another way…if I can qualify for the loan. Then, I’ll have to decline and reapply in the future, I guess.
I inhale and exhale loudly by accident.
Christian’s still not noticing anything outside of himself anyway. He continues to lead us to the car, among the humming crowd, and hasn’t said more about my announcement. Why am I surprised?
Timing is everything, and if I would’ve had the winery desire years ago, when we were still us, maybe we’d be living down there right now, with none of this detachment. There’d be wonderful people around like Barb, Tess, and Kent, and let’s never forget Gio, and we’d be one big happy family. I’ll just have to stay in touch with all of them and make a point to visit until I’m there too. I will have that family in my life.
Well, this isn’t the way I thought I’d start my career at LA Phil, but it’s only for right now, not forever. I know that without a doubt at least.
Chapter
Fifty-Eight
How is it already the last day at school before I start at LA Phil? Although the students, Mr. Caloosta, and David made sure to send me off knowing I make a difference here, I’m certain that I’ve decided on the right choice to start the path for my new career—a dirt path if you want to have the same vision as me. Greatest of all, I’m proud of myself.
“So, that’s it, huh?” David moves aside a farewell balloon from my last period’s students as he makes his way to me, cleaning out my desk.
“It’s hard to believe, but yeah. This is it.” My lips spread to reveal clenched teeth.
He slides onto the chair closest to me. “I’m really going to miss having you around here but can’t be happier for you. I know it’s what’s best.”
“I’ll miss seeing you so much too, but we’ll still hang out all the time. Don’t worry, I’m going to need someone to come with me to visit the gang in Temecula Valley as I establish myself.”
“I’m there for it. And for you.” He smiles in his open-hearted, can’t-be-mistaken-for-ulterior-motives David way.
What a relief that everything has been aired out, and we remain us, even though the main man in my life isn’t on my dirt path. See, that’s how true connections are—relationships that can overcome roadblocks and be better for them, not get stuck in the mud.
“Thanks for going with me to visit my parents today so I can tell them about Christian and me. When I told them about accepting the position, I left out the real reason. You know Flora knew, though.”
“Of course I’ll go with you. If you want, I’ll come inside too.”
“No, I think it should just be us. Having you there may make them act weird. Parents aren’t the same with guests present, even though you are honorary family by now.” I throw the last of my personal items from my desk into a box. I can’t leave my extra hair tie and a granola bar behind.
“I hear you. Well, I need to get some jasmine tea at the Asian market for my own parents, so I’ll go there and occupy myself until you’re done. My mom’s favorite is only sold in a few places, and one is close to your parents’ house. This gives me a good opportunity.” He looks toward the large window to the side of us.
“Thanks for not making me drive there and back by myself, in case I need to talk in person afterward.”
Meeting eyes, he says, “These are some life-changing things you’re going through. I don’t want you to feel alone.”
“I never do with good friends like you.” Standing up, I strap on my cello case and pick up the box. I’m one lucky lady to have such love around me, never alone and supported to stand on my own.
“Any going-away cake left?” He looks back toward the windowsill where it sits. “I can use another slice for the road.”
“Yeah, help yourself. And thanks for suggesting my favorite, chocolate cake with chocolate-fudge frosting.” I lick my lips by reflex.
“There’s only one chunk left. Want it?”
“Twist my arm. Let’s split it, though. I’ll have my half finished in three-two-one.” Stuffing the gooey clump in my mouth, I enjoy the last moment in my classroom to the fullest.
Still chewing while turning off the lights for the last time, I close the door on a room and a chapter of my career.
“David is more than welcome to come in.” Mom waves to him from the front door as he waves back and pulls away from the curb.
“Nah, he has an errand to run. And I need to talk to you two on my own,” I say, sitting on the couch.
Dad releases a sigh of comfort as his body meets his armchair but asks, “Is something wrong?” with a scared expression.
Mom joins me on the couch and echoes, “Yeah, tell us. And do you want some biscotti and coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”
“No, I’m fine, but thanks. Let me get to it.” The room’s pure silence, usually blasting with music played by us or the radio, is begging to be filled—even with news like mine. “Christian and I haven’t been doing so well.” I dip my head.
“We’ve…noticed.” Dad’s chair creaks as he angles toward us from the other side of the coffee table.
“I suspected.” Flashes of their past parental concerned faces come to mind. “And I thank you for not questioning me about it.”
“It’s not our business. But we don’t like what we’ve been seeing, Toni.” Mom places her warm, soft hand on my trouser-covered knee. “Christian is not the same young man we knew.”
Head still bowed, I admit, “Yeah, he’s been different for the last year or so.”
“Personally, I think it’s been longer than that,” Dad adds.
I never want to admit how long I’ve tried to be happy and make us work, especially to them. “The phrase love is blind exists for a reason.” I pause. “So, we’re going to couples counseling tomorrow. It took a long time to get in, and now it may be too late for us.”
“It’s not if you don’t want it to be.” Mom gently grips her caring hand.
“Well, that’s the other bit of news to tell you. I’m not convinced staying married to him is right for me anymore.” I wince like I’m twelve years old again and they have the power to punish me for being naughty. “But I’m giving it one more chance in therapy.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I’m not convinced they can overcome what my intuition is screaming at me.
Neither of my parents verbalize a response, though their stiff body language speaks volumes.
I pivot my head between them and continue, “That’s the real reason I took the LA Phil spot.”
“I don’t understand.” Mom retracts her hand and falls back into the couch, her voice quiet.
I explain my logic and, with each word, feel the synchronizing of our bond. They flow out like playing a song I’ve known my entire life. Each change in volume, intensity, and tempo pour from my heart as they’re received with appreciation from the audience.
“Life is short. You gotta do what you want.” Dad’s simple phrase he said all those years ago when I went off to college still rings true.
“I’ve been learning that recently. And I know what I want now,” I agree.
I continue by sharing everything from the loan details to the property I wish could be mine down south…just not the you-know-what David part. Hey, parents don’t need every last drop of specifics.
Dad hugs me on my way out the door. “My baby’s got a good head on her shoulders. And talent galore. I’m glad you know that now.”
Mom swoops in next for her hug. “We’ll help you get through this. It’ll be fine, just fine.”
David, who returned a few minutes ago, smiles and adds, “She’s got us. What more could she need?” He throws up his hands to pair with his humorous comment.
“And that’s why we keep you around, kid.” Dad returns the humor as he shakes his hand.
It’s always been easy having him around my parents. I need more of that in my life, and I’m on my way. But first, counseling.
Chapter
Fifty-Nine
"Tell me what brings you in.” Jillian, the psychotherapist, has an inviting voice and office. Its sky-blue tones plus silver-framed photos of nature scenes, some with inspirational messages, bring much-needed comfort. With her obvious love of being outside—she has a countless number of plants in the spacious room too—and the soft spa music playing in the background, I know I made a good choice. She’s an ideal match—at least for me.
“She thinks we need it.” Christian jumps right in the water. No, more like cannonballs.
I’m already speechless and haven’t even spoken beyond pleasantries yet.
“And what about you, Toni? What brings you here?” Jillian’s tone remains steady.
“We’ve been having difficulty communicating. I thought it would be a good idea to come and see if we can get on the same page again.” My legs tighten at the ankles, where they’re crossed.
“Communication,” she repeats. “Christian, how do you feel about the communication in your relationship?”
“We’ve had our times of not talking, but overall, we’re okay. Sometimes we argue, just like all couples.” He drops his ankle on one knee, taking up space like he owns the loveseat.
I rest my elbow on the couch’s arm on my side, aiming to claim my space as well. “I don’t know about that.”
“What do you mean?” he snaps.
“We do argue, like everyone, but the way we argue is nasty.” I look between Christian and Jillian.
“How so, Toni?” she inquires.
“You’re the one who has to get her way or doesn’t talk to me.” Christian doesn’t allow me to respond, of course.
“You have to be kidding.” I laugh and turn toward him, not avoiding the conflict anymore. “You have to get your way is more like it. And you don’t talk to me—sometimes for days.”
Christian opens his mouth to speak, but Jillian cuts him off this time. “I’m hearing a lot of ‘you’ language. Let’s try using how you each feel first, such as, ‘I feel like this when you do this.’ When we place the word you first, the other person can feel attacked.” Her glowing green eyes under her blonde bangs exude concern.
