Chapter 14 - Brad Returned to the Music Room Without Owning the Space
Three years after the fight, Brad was nineteen and home from college.
Hawthorne invited alumni musicians to a winter workshop.
Brad agreed to help the cello section.
Lily was sixteen.
Still violin.
Still at Hawthorne.
The workshop used the same music room.
Same ivory walls.
Same pale oak floor.
The low table was still there, though one corner had been refinished.
Lily noticed Brad looking at:
it.
He noticed her noticing.
“This is awkward.”
“A little.”
Several younger students were tuning instruments nearby.
No private confrontation.
No need.
Brad said:
“I used to think about that table all the time.”
Lily raised an eyebrow.
“Because I kicked you off it?”
“You were on it.”
“Right.”
He smiled.
Then became serious.
“I’m glad you stayed here.”
Lily shrugged.
“Me too.”
“Did you ever almost leave?”
“Yes.”
“Because of me?”
“Partly.”
He nodded.
No demand for reassurance.
Then Lily asked something she had never asked.
“Do you still hate my mom?”
Brad thought.
“No.”
“Do you like her?”
“No.”
Lily laughed.
Fair.
Brad continued.
“I think she did some things badly. I think my dad did worse things in that situation. I think my mom waited too long to tell me everything. Mostly I think none of you should’ve been characters in the story I needed about my parents.”
That was the most mature thing Lily had heard from:
him.
Then Brad asked:
“Does your mom hate Dad?”
“Less than before.”
“Progress.”
They stood quietly.
Then a freshman student climbed onto the low table to reach a box of sheet music.
Ms. Alvarez shouted from across the room:
“Off the furniture!”
The student jumped down.
Lily and Brad both laughed.
The table had become furniture again.
That mattered more than either expected.
Then Brad told Lily:
“I’m studying nonprofit finance.”
She stared.
“You’re kidding.”
“No.”
“Because of Crescendo?”
“Partly.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Help institutions avoid doing stupid things with restricted money.”
Lily smiled.
“That’s extremely specific trauma.”
“Very marketable.”
Then the workshop began.
They played in the same room without needing to resolve anything else.
No friendship.
No feud.
History.
Boundaries.
Music.
May you like
Enough.
---
