Virtuoso

February, 2nd week

You deserve good things, and I want to be one of them.

Impulse, Ellen Hopkins

In between lessons, Jaden called for his weekly check-in. As usual, Zak had no answers for him: no idea when he would be able to start touring again, no idea when he would be ready to audition for another orchestra seat, and no idea if he was any closer to knowing. But he did have a question.

"So tell me about Marsella Cabrera."

A long pause. "What do you want to know about her?" Jaden asked warily.

"Well, I guess the first thing I want to know is why you haven't mentioned her." A spike of antagonism brooded beneath his casual tone.

"You seem to be sufficiently well-informed without my help," Jaden replied coolly. "As I understand it, my job is to organize your schedule and oversee your contracts, not fill you in on irrelevant gossip."

"We appear to be competitors for the same positions. It seems like she should be highly relevant to you. From what I've heard, she's taking Europe by storm." And oh, how quickly they've forgotten me.

"Zak–"

"Sorry, I've got to get back to my day job now. My student's coming in." He ended the call without another word and set his phone to silent.

Right on time, Ami knocked softly, then walked through the door. They finished going through her exercises before he realized that her responses were quieter and shorter than usual, and that her normally straight shoulders were slightly hunched. The anger and fear gnawing at him receded when he saw the haunted look in her eyes mirroring that in his own.

"Bad week?"

"Still no vibrato, I'm afraid."

"I noticed. Besides that?"

Ami glanced up at him, then away. "I…no, nothing."

"Never mind. It's none of my business."

She bit her lip. "It's not a big deal; I'm simply overreacting. One can't expect to be successful all the time, after all."

He waited patiently.

"I was rejected from Stanford."

Zak was surprised to feel a hot rush of anger flood through him. "Then they're idiots."

"Well… I guess I'm just not what they're looking for."

"Should I repeat myself?" He put down his instrument and strode across the room to shove open the window. "I hate all these endless hoops you have to jump through, these trivial little popularity contests where people who barely know anything about you try to judge you."

Seeing that she looked more alarmed than sad now, he stopped and let the cool breezes rush over him. "It's a damn shame, and I'm sorry to hear it, Ami. But I'm sure you'll hear good news soon."

She smiled at him for the first time that day. "Thank you, Zak."

"Let's play something. Pick your favorite thing from this week," he said abruptly.

To his surprise, she chose one of the Kuhlau duets from Opus 39.

"Not a solo piece?" he asked.

Ami shook her head. "No. I don't really like playing by myself, you know." Somehow, he had known it.

Although they each had their own distractions, they played well that day. She counted each of her rests properly, and he picked up on all her cues. Even though he performed primarily with a pianist or orchestras, Zak always savored the feeling that came with playing duets. There was just something there in playing with another flautist that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He loved the seamless handing off of a phrase, hearing the melody he had just played being echoed and re-interpreted by his partner, the breathless pause at the conclusion when they finished on a strong and dramatic downbeat together, as if the room itself was waiting for more. It was the conversation he never tired of having.

At the end of the piece, their eyes met. He was surprised and gratified to see the same glow of energy and joy he felt reflected in her expression, even though he knew the muscles of her arms and face must be aching. After their lesson ended, he called Jaden back.

"Yeah?" came the tired voice.

Better than he was expecting. He'd been afraid the call would go straight to voicemail. "I'm sorry, Jay."

"It's all right. Forget it."

"No, really, I–"

"It'll come back, Zak. I know it will."

He closed his eyes.

"I wouldn't represent Marsella Cabrera if she paid me a million dollars," Jaden continued.

He smiled despite himself. "Only if she offered you two million dollars, right?"

"Not even then. When she plays, the music… it has no heart. And even if it did, you're irreplaceable, you know that? They called James Galway 'The Man With the Golden Flute' and Eli Helios 'Pegasus.' You, they call 'Pan.' Chiba called me yesterday to ask when you'd be back in commission. He was hoping you would audition in the fall."

Zak smiled at the thought of Mamoru Chiba of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, who conducted so regally that his nickname was "The Prince."

"How do you know?" That I'm really irreplaceable. That the music will come back to me. That this isn't the end.

Jaden's heart contracted at the pain and uncertainty in his friend's voice. "The music is who you are. It's who you always will be. Besides, I have a bet running with Nick on when, not if."

"Thanks, Jay. I'm not going to ask you your timeline, but I hope you win."

"I'm sure I will. Now get back to work so you can pay my fee – I hear I'm worth two million these days." This time, Jaden was laughing when Zak hung up on him.