Virtuoso
December
One day, when I am a braver man, I will tell her these things, and then I will look her in the eye tell her I love her and ask her to be only mine. But until that day, we're just friends.
Already Dead, Charlie Huston
Zak closed the door after his last student of the day, resisting the urge to slam it shut. He sank down onto the piano bench and buried his face in his hands. "Of course, Jay," he muttered to his absent friend, "giving flute lessons to hot college students who also happen to be serious musicians. How could it not help?"
He remembered Jaden's blithe offer, "I'll screen them for you to make sure they're all over the age of consent."
They were all over the age of consent. It didn't guarantee that they had a shred of skill. It didn't guarantee that they practiced. It didn't guarantee that they could count for beans, and it didn't guarantee that they loved music. Worst of all were the ones who worked hard and loved the music, loved their instrument, even loved him (or whatever idol they made him out to be), and would never get to where they wanted to be. It was disheartening to see all that hope and effort going to waste.
He pressed his fingers harder against his temples and groaned. I should have listened to Keth. He recalled his friend's words all too clearly: "Sometimes you need time away from the things you love, even when they're the things you love the most."
How had he gotten here again?
Jaden was waiting for him outside the practice room, his normally-cheerful face taut with anxiety. "Any luck?"
The thin line of Zak's mouth was answer enough.
"Look, Zak… I've been thinking. There's an opening for a flute teacher at Juilliard. I think they would jump at the chance to have you."
Zak stared at him. "Me? Teach? Where did you get a crazy idea like that from?"
"Just hear me out, all right? You need a break from performing, but can you honestly imagine yourself doing something unrelated to music?"
Jaden had a point. The mental image of himself dressed in a suit, commuting to an office and a 9-to-5 job seemed not only dull, but inescapably foreign to him. Worse, it scared him.
"Going back to the root of things, but from the other side – being the teacher instead of the student – it could be good for you. And it's Juilliard, which has quite a bit of clout in the circles you run in."
He frowned, considering.
"Besides, think of all the hot, talented college girls you'd be meeting, who would also happen to be serious musicians."
Zak raised his eyebrows. "First, it's inappropriate for a teacher to have relationships with his students. Second, what makes you think they'll be hot?"
Jaden just grinned at him.
He didn't agree to think about it, but three days later, he picked up the phone and dialed Jaden's number. "How long?"
"Just for a semester. Sixteen weeks."
"Have you–"
"They promised, no performances."
Sixteen weeks. It was short enough that he didn't feel trapped. Long enough to provide some sense of stability, the illusion that he had a purpose and a semi-routine schedule again. His predecessor was out on maternity leave and decided, towards the end of fall semester, that she'd like some more time at home with her child. When the music department asked if he would be willing to stay for the spring semester, he accepted, trying to ignore pressure coiling at the base of his neck and waiting to strike from there.
He was a better teacher than he thought he would be. His music still hadn't come back.
Ami was one of only three beginners among his students, a college student studying at Columbia. She had started playing flute a year ago under the instruction of Lunaria Weiss, his predecessor. He hadn't had high hopes of her to start with, but she had changed his mind in three weeks. She didn't play any other instruments, but she had learned to read music on her own. She learned so fast, and she kept time like an angel. He could never tell her, but her lesson was the best hour of his entire week.