Another New Life Read online

  I dropped my bags by the door and sat down on the piano bench. I leaned over and inhaled the keys. They had been cleaned within in the last few days, and the smell of the string oil hung in the air. I loved the smell of a freshly tuned piano.

  I played a chord, and my heart raced as my ears took in the sound. The sense of familiarity made me giddy. I got a little emotional about music. Playing piano had become my only positive outlet growing up.

  When we first moved to Seattle, I spent the first year not speaking to anyone. My parents worried, but not enough to get me professional help. They turned to the teachers at school for suggestions to break me out of my shell. The teachers asked about my interests, and my mother suggested piano. I didn’t say no.

  I started lessons twice a week from that point forward. I couldn't say whether I loved it or hated it. It made me sad but brought back good memories, especially memories of Troy. All my memories of Troy were good memories.

  When I was little, my mother made me practice for an hour before I could go out and play. Troy would lay underneath the piano and listen to me practice, making up his own lyrics to the music. We had so much fun.

  When I started playing again, I did it because it was something to do that others found normal and allowed me to avoid obligations other kids had to deal with. I knew my behavior scared my parents, but as long as they heard the music coming from our gameroom every day, they left me alone.

  My parents found me a piano teacher who came to my house for lessons, but when I outgrew him, I went searching for a new one on my own. That was when I met Riley. He worked at Benaroya Hall in Seattle. A few times a year, the venue held concerts by famous pianist from all over the world. Often, they would play with the ensemble, but I preferred the solo performances. In my mind, the piano stood alone best.

  Lang Lang, a famous pianist from China, performed in concert. My parents bought me a ticket for my thirteenth birthday, and it took some persuading, but they allowed me to ride the ferry across the bay by myself. The concert hall stood on the water near the ferry dock.

  I created a fantasy where Lang Lang would notice me and ask me to play for him, and he'd be so impressed he would adopt me and take me away with him to travel the world. He never noticed me, but Riley did. I guess a chubby teenage who liked classical music and managed to sneak herself back stage, stood out.

  He allowed me to watch the concert from the side of the stage, and he gave me a tour of the rest of the hall. When the concert hall cleared out, Riley let me play the grand piano on the main stage. The sound overwhelmed me, and I discovered an emotional connection to music. I fell in love.

  Riley was a brilliant pianist himself, a sophomore music major at the University of Washington. I asked him to take me on as a student, and we have been working together ever since.

  My parents were concerned when I decided to work with Riley, but they felt better when my dark mood lifted occasionally, especially after a lesson.

  ***

  I spent some time doing Hanon exercises, figured why not stick with the basics. My stomach started growling sometime between number seven and number eleven. I powered through the rest and played through some Beethoven, but couldn't ignore my hunger. The only thing I had today was the coffee with Troy. I didn't want to stop, but I needed food or I wouldn't be able to concentrate. I had the rest of the day to practice, and it might be a while before I had this opportunity again.

  As I walked over to the student center to grab some food, I called Riley.

  "Hello, Sensa." Our favorite teacher/student analogy took on characters from movies.

  "Mr. Lawrence, how are you?"

  "I am good."

  "You just finished practicing." He laughed. "I can hear it in your voice."

  "It's been nine days; I had to get my hands on a piano."

  "What did you practice? Your famous piano renditions of current hip-hop tunes?"

  "You know me too well. I also threw in some Beethoven for good measure."

  "Good." The familiar sound of the ferry horn in the background made me sad.

  "Where are you heading?" I asked.

  "Across the bay to meet a new student."

  "You’re replacing me already?"

  "You're irreplaceable," he sang like the Beyoncé song. "You seen Professor Davison?"

  "Yeah, this morning in performance. He's pretty cool. He let me into a practice room early. I think he felt sorry for me."

  "You really doing okay?" he asked again.

  "Yes, well, it's just the first week." I stood outside. "And already, I've been thrust in an environment where I'm forced to interact with forty-five thousand people on a daily basis. My roommate is a bit over the top, and my parents call me six times a day." I left out the part about reconnecting with my oldest friend in the world, and my current obsession with his lips.

  "Oh, so you're good?"

  "I miss you," I said. "That's something."

  "I miss you, too, kid," he said. "Things will be fine once you get into a routine, and you know if you need anything, I'm only a phone call away."

  "I know."

  "Try to have some fun. You're in college, for heaven’s sake."

  "Even a thousand miles away, you still sound like a ninety-year-old grandmother."

  "Don't sass me, young lady."

  "Goodbye, Obi Wan."

  "Bye, my little Padawan."

  I headed into the student center and grabbed a sandwich. I looked around praying I didn't see any of my new friends. Relieved, I didn't see Troy. Even thinking about him made it hard to concentrate on anything else. I took my food back to the practice room and ate alone. Right now, I needed to practice and try to stop thinking about Troy.

  I turned my phone off during practice, but as soon as I turned it back on, I had a message from Troy. Over the next day and a half, an hour didn't go by where we weren't talking or texting back and forth. We caught up on every detail from the day I moved away to the day we reconnected in calculus, sprinkling the present with references to the past. Obviously, I left a few things out.

  I spent most of my adolescence trying to be invisible; Troy was the most popular guy in school. While I gained an unsavory reputation in high school, Troy was Mr. All-American. His entire life seemed like a well-written teen hero novel.

  "If it wasn't for your dad, I might not be a football player," Troy said.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "When we were seven, he took us to my first game."

  "Oh yeah. I remember it was cold, and the hot chocolate was hot."

  "Yeah, I can still hear the noise in that stadium."

  "The Broncos won."

  "Yeah."

  "Yeah." I laughed.

  "Are you laughing at me?"

  "Maybe." I got in the habit of taking calls in the quad, not comfortable with my new roommate listening in on my conversations. I sat down on the picnic table. "I like hearing you talk about football."

  "You sound the same way when you talk about piano."

  "No, I don't," I argued, knowing I did.

  "Oh man, you do. 'I played the most amazing grand piano on the main stage. The acoustics in that place were outrageous,'" he said.

  "I don't sound like that."

  "Are you kidding? That was a direct quote. I remember everything you say to me."

  Troy had a talent for throwing in a compliment without hesitation, and it stopped my heart every time.

  "I have to get inside, I have chapters to read for class tomorrow."

  "Okay, I'll call you later."

  "You do know people in this day and age, they communicate by text messages. You don't always have to call me."

  "Yeah, I do. I haven't heard your voice in eight years, and I like the way it sounds."

  ***

  I took the elevator up to my floor and strolled down the hallway, oblivious to the other students as they yelled and ran past me. The things Troy said to me played on a loop in my head. He liked the sound of my voice: corny,
but sweet.

  I entered my room in a daze, thinking about when Troy and I were kids. His kind nature made him a sensitive kid. From the first day we met, it was Troy and me against the world. He would always hold my hand and hug me when I was upset or cried. He always stuck up for me, even when it wasn't cool for boys to like girls. He protected me as much as an eight-year-old could. He had the same personality now, with the addition of sexy confidence and an amazing body. I not only heard it when he spoke, I felt it every time we were together.

  "You just got off the phone with Troy." Darcy's voice pulled me back to the present.

  "How can you tell?"

  "Oh, come on, Miranda, you have that 'oh, my boyfriend is so dreamy' look on your face."

  "He's not my boyfriend." I dropped my books on my desk and sat down in front of her. "Besides, we just met like two days ago."

  "Miranda," Darcy said as she fell back on her bed, as if talking to me was exhausting.

  "What?"

  "You met when you were like four years old, right?"

  "Yeah."

  "You've known him all your life, and you're obviously meant to be together. Why else would God put you back together after eight years?"

  "Yeah, well, I am perfectly happy with having a new friend, old friend."

  Darcy laughed.

  "Whatever."

  I threw a pillow at her, and she kept it, but at least she stopped talking.

  I grabbed my stuff and went to the bathroom. Hopefully twenty pages of music history would be enough to take my mind off of Troy.

  ***

  On Thursday, I arrived to class five minutes early, hoping to be seated. My feelings for Troy might have been tied with the novelty of seeing him again after so many years. I needed to find out, with minimal distraction. Not knowing was driving me crazy.

  It was not as if he'd been pining away for me over the last eight years. He had gone on with his life, as I had. I had thought about him a few times over the years, but nothing obsessive. I wondered where he lived and what he was into, but I had never looked him up. Deep down, I didn't want to know how great his life had turned out while mine was such a struggle. Fond memories from our childhood helped me through some of the worst moments of my life.

  When I walked into class, Troy had already arrived. He and Ryan occupied the same seats. It was hard to catch my breath. It could have been because when Troy saw me, he stopped laughing. I climbed the steps. He tried to suppress the goofy grin from spreading any wider across his face, and he turned to watch me enter the row behind him and sit down, but he didn't stand up. He didn't speak. He watched me, and it made me uncomfortable.

  "Jeez, Rand, I could barely keep up, you were walking so fast," Darcy said, trying to catch her breath. She flopped into the chair beside me.

  "You okay?"

  This girl did not know when to shut up.

  "Why were you in such a hurry?" Darcy asked, and her face turned bright red when she noticed Troy grinning up at me.

  I kept my eyes glued to anything besides his, but even in my peripheral vision, he looked adorable. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and flipped through my book, determined to pay attention to the professor today.

  Troy stood up and leaned over the desk to face me, but he didn't speak; he put a note on my desktop and slid it toward me. When I placed my hand on the note, he placed his hand over mine for the briefest moment, winking at me with his beautiful green eyes before he sat back down.

  The professor walked into class at that moment, so the students settled in to hear the lecture.

  I didn’t think I'd ever received a note from a guy, or anyone for that matter. I wasn't the note-passing kind of person in high school. I had no friends.

  I opened it and read it.

  My hand flew up to my mouth in order to avoid bursting into laughter. Darcy must have read the note, too. She wasn't as successful in controlling herself. I snatched the note to my chest and glared at her.

  She leaned over. "I am dying. That's so sweet."

  "Shut up," I whispered.

  The note read:

  I was wondering if you would like to have coffee with me after class forever, or at least until the end of the semester?

  Circle one:

  Yes

  Maybe

  No

  Troy

  His cute gesture took me back to middle school. I envied my classmates participating in this adolescent ritual of “I like you, do you like me.” Troy was used to girls falling all over him after this type of romantic gesture, but I wasn't that type of girl. The nicer he was to me, the larger the lump in the pit of my stomach weighed. My reluctance stemmed from one, never experiencing this whole courting ritual between men and women, and two, the more time I spent with Troy, the more I seemed to be thinking about what happened back then. Not a memory I enjoyed reliving over and over again. Even though Troy had nothing to do with it, and from what I could tell, didn't even know it had happened, I felt like a fraud because I wasn't who he thought I was.

  I chose an answer and dropped the note on the floor behind his chair. He leaned over and picked it up and read it. The speed in which he turned around surprised me. I figured after the embarrassment from the first class, he would be more careful.

  He stared at me with narrowed eyes, frowned and mouthed the word, "Maybe?"

  I had the feeling not too many people said no to him.

  "Mr. Anderson is this particular distraction going to occur in every class, or is it something we can limit to the first week of the semester?" the professor said.

  Everyone in the class turned to face Troy. I had the strangest case of déjà vu, and Ryan’s laugh added to it.

  "Professor Lee, I'm sorry, but I asked this beautiful girl to have coffee with me after class for the rest of the semester, and she said maybe."

  "Not the answer you were expecting, Mr. Anderson?"

  "No, sir."

  "Ms. Preston?"

  I looked at Ryan and Darcy for some help, some support, but they avoided my gaze on purpose.

  "Ms. Preston?"

  "Yes, sir." I cleared my throat.

  "I am sure Mr. Anderson is used to having his questions answered, so, if you could please oblige him, we might get on with the learning of calculus."

  Now the sweat came from everywhere. I sat on my hands to keep from fanning myself. I must have looked a mess, but I managed to answer.

  "Well, maybe you could explain to Mr. Anderson not to offer the choice of an answer he wasn't willing to accept."

  The entire class erupted with laughter.

  Troy turned to look at me. My attempt to embarrass him didn't work. He glared, and his face grew more flush as his lips parted into a smile. I looked away.

  "Well said, Ms. Preston. Mr. Anderson, I believe you got your answer. Now, can we move on?"

  The class settled down, but I was fuming. I couldn't imagine what other forms of embarrassment I had to endure, and it was only the first week.

  ***

  When the class ended, Troy stood up. I took my time putting my computer away and waited until the class emptied before acknowledging him.

  “What?”

  "Can I talk you into turning that maybe into a yes?"

  I walked to the end of the row of desks, and he followed. He stood a step below me and from this angle we stood eye to eye. Part of me wanted to lean over and kiss him. Feel his lips on mine. I had this thought that he tasted like mint and strawberries. I didn’t know where that came from, maybe something from when we were kids. It was the prevailing thought in my mind, and the thought that prevented me from staying mad at him.

  "Sure." I walked down the steps past him. "For today, anyway."

  ***

  I replayed the incident from class over and over again in my head. Flirting with Troy, in front of a class of 100 people, was out of character for me.

  I sat with my back to the student center this time, waiting for Troy to come back with our coffees.
/>   Instead of sitting across from me, Troy sat next to me. Side by side decreased the need to talk; we watched the students hurrying back and forth to class instead.

  After five minutes, Troy broke the silence.

  "Do you have class tomorrow?" he asked.

  "Yeah, music theory at ten am"

  "That's not to early. I invited a few people over to my house tonight.” He turned toward me. "I would really like you to come."

  I could smell mint, and after my earlier fantasy, I couldn't take my eyes off his lips.

  "What are you drinking?" I asked, searching for something to distract me from kissing him.

  "Mint hot chocolate," he said. "Why?"

  "What time’s the party?" I faced forward and took another sip of my coffee.

  No way could I control myself if I had to endure another one of his goofy, wide grins.

  As we enjoyed our coffee, our knees, thighs, and hips touched. He leaned into me, and I leaned back. I placed my hand on the table to anchor myself to something other than him but also to see what he would do. He reached for my hand as one of his teammates walked over and sat down.

  "Anderson." They shook hands.

  "Hey, Morris," Troy said. "What's up, man? This is Miranda."

  I took my hands off the table and placed them in my lap.

  "Hello, Miranda." Morris winked at me and spoke to Troy for a minute. While they discussed something about zone defenses, I zoned out and paid attention to the cadence of Troy's voice. It was melodic, but strong.

  As Morris left, another teammate and his girlfriend walked up. The girlfriend draped her arms around Troy's neck, and her lips lingered on his cheek longer then necessary. Jealousy tugged at my heart. I hadn't even kissed him yet.

  "Hey, Troy," she said and sat down on her boyfriend's lap. "God, you're still adorable."

  "Steph, shut up," he said, but they both smiled.

  "Hey J, Steph, I'd like you to meet Miranda," Troy said.

  "Hi, Miranda," Steph said. "You are so pretty." Her eyes worked their way from my hair to my mouth and then down to my chest. She was sizing me up.

  "Thanks." I didn't believe her.

  "We have to go. We need to bring anything for tonight?"