A Life That Fits

by Heather Wardell

  She rolled her eyes. "But I do it more than most. Listen to this."

  And she was off, on a story of how she'd drunk way too much at the cottage and then told Brent's cousin she wanted a threesome with him and Brent.

  I barely listened, too busy thinking about Anna and Gary's questioning. Were they also doubting my abilities? I'd have to step up my game. I didn't want to give them any reason to think they should replace me for the conferences.

  Especially since the person they could easily use to replace me was already on staff, sitting across from me blathering on about threesomes.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my clarinet. I'd been fine while warming up, had even enjoyed the random sounds of at least fifteen people playing different songs at once. But once David called for silence and had us all sit in a row in the main rehearsal hall until he called us into a smaller room to audition, I'd started to panic.

  For fourteen years, music had been Alex's thing not mine. I was deliberately pushing myself into an arena we'd agreed was his, and while I knew I had every right to do so, had indeed always had the right to do so, it still felt strange and wrong.

  Person after person auditioned then came back and got their stuff, some looking happy and some determinedly neutral and one in tears, and I sat trying to take deep breaths but finding them choked off by my terror. When I realized only two people were left before me, all I wanted to do was flee, so though it was almost unbearable to stay sitting still I made myself reverse it and keep my butt glued to the chair.

  I couldn't sit in silence any longer, though, so I turned to, turned on really, the girl sitting next to me. "Are you freaking out?" I demanded. "I'm freaking out."

  She blinked and leaned back away from me, drawing her flute out of the reach of the crazy clarinet player. "I'm nervous, yeah. But I don't think I'm freaking out."

  I nodded as if that had helped. "I'm glad for you. I wish I could just be nervous."

  "Take more deep breaths," someone said, and I looked to the side to see a blond guy leaning casually against the wall, a clarinet tattooed on his bare forearm. He smiled. "It'll help."

  "Thanks," I mumbled. I did keep trying, and it helped a bit, but when the next person was called my heart rate went up still higher, and when the flute player went I honestly thought I'd either cry or puke. Or both.

  I had to reverse this. I wouldn't be able to play at all in my current state, and the hours I'd put into learning my audition piece and sight-reading everything I could find online would be wasted. If I didn't make it, fine, but I didn't want to cut myself from the show before David had the chance.

  How to reverse panic?

  Among the many downsides of terror is the number it does on your mental faculties. I couldn't think of anything to calm myself down, couldn't remember anything I'd read or seen. Then I noticed a strand of orange fur on my jeans.

  Harrison. Playing with his toys. Eating his food by knocking each individual piece of kibble out of his bowl onto the floor then picking it up with his mouth. Chewing my yarn and blinking innocently at me when I told him to stop. Drifting off to sleep in my lap. Hogging my pillow. I took deep breaths and watched the cat in my mind. Goofy, furry, and adorable. Nothing to worry about. Watching the cat.

  David appeared and called my name and Harrison vanished, but his presence had helped and I was able to walk, although my knees were shaking violently, into the back room. I noticed, barely, the blond guy following me in carrying a clarinet. Maybe he'd beat me to death with it if I asked so I wouldn't have to play.

  David returned to his seat between two other people, glanced at the blond, then smiled at me, his teeth vibrant white in his dark-chocolate face. "Andrea, lovely to meet you. I know you've been sitting there for ages, so go ahead and play a few notes to get yourself ready to go and then we'll hear your piece."

  I blew into the clarinet and it gave an agonized squawk, sounding exactly how I felt.

  "Sorry," I muttered, and tried again. I did eventually manage to get something that actually sounded like a note, but my very first attempt with the instrument way back in grade four had sounded better than I did now.

  I looked over at David and his team, who looked confused, and such a huge rush of sadness hit me that I couldn't breathe never mind play. All that time, my decision to move into a previously Alex-dominated arena, to take on my life in a way I'd never imagined I could, and I didn't have a prayer because I couldn't make myself relax.

  Nobody seemed sure what to do, then the blond guy cleared his throat. "David, can I play second to Andrea's first part? I'd like to hear how they sound together."

  David looked up at him, frowning, then his face cleared and he nodded. "If you want."

  The blond walked over and set his music on the stand next to the sheet they'd left for me. "We'll play it together," he said, giving me a sweet smile and patting my shoulder. "But I warn you, I'll probably drop out once I know how it sounds. Deal?"

  I couldn't for the life of me understand why he needed to do this now, but not having to stand and play alone felt far better so I nodded.

  "Give me a C so we can tell if we're in tune."

  I took a deep breath and played the note, sounding a little less cat-with-tail-under-rocking-chair than before, and he played it with me then adjusted his clarinet. "Good enough for jazz, as they say. Let's do this. Ready, David?"

  David nodded.

  "Okay, Andrea, I have two bars on my own and then you join in. Here we go."

  I'd listened to a recording of the piece so many times I could sing it in my sleep, and my nerves settled down as the familiar sounds began. I came in right where I was supposed to and we played together for the first half of the page without a single mistake.

  He stopped playing but I carried on, totally into it by now and not scared any more, and ran through alone until he rejoined me for the final chord.

  The judges clapped, and the blond smiled at me. "Nice job. I can almost see King Louie and the other monkeys dancing around."

  I smiled back. "Thanks."

  He winked. "I just wanted to hear how it sounded."

  "Sure, George, whatever you say," David said, then smiled at me. "Ready to sight-read?"

  I was, and I pulled it off with only one tiny mistake.

  "Andrea, could you wait outside for a minute?"

  "Of course."

  George followed me out. "Good job. I heard you warming up and knew you could do it."

  Now that I wasn't panicked, I could think straight. "You knew how the second part sounded with the first, didn't you?"

  He smiled. "I've played this show before. Yup, I knew. I also knew you couldn't do it while freaking out." He imitated my attack on the poor flautist and I had to giggle. He grinned and added, "I heard you warming up so I knew you could play. I figured once you got going you'd be fine, and we need you so I wanted to make sure you got going."

  "Well, thank you so much. You saved my audition. Although..."

  He raised his eyebrows.

  "They probably won't want me since I was falling apart."

  George took a breath to respond but David opened the door and beckoned me back in before he could.

  "Andrea, do you usually have trouble with stage fright?"

  I shook my head. "I do huge conference presentations for work and I'm barely even nervous. This was a big step for me for a lot of reasons. I've never done an audition before, and honestly I was fine until it hit me what I was doing. But..." I looked him in the eye. "If you let me play with you I promise I won't let you down."

  He smiled. "I'll hold you to that. Welcome aboard."

  *****

  On Sunday, I joined the musical theater's cast and crew and orchestra for a meeting at the rehearsal space. Wendy came with me; when I'd told her about my new activity she'd asked if they needed more crew members, and since she'd worked backstage on shows in high school David had been delighted to add her to the group.
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  George smiled when I walked in and I grinned back and took Wendy over to him. After I'd introduced them, I said, "Got you something," and gave him an envelope.

  "Why?"

  "For saving my audition, of course."

  He shook his head. "I didn't do anything. You'd have pulled yourself together."

  "I admire your optimism. Open it."

  He grinned as he pulled out a Tim Hortons gift card. "How'd you know I love their coffee?"

  I smiled. "You're Canadian, right? Isn't it part of our constitution or something?"

  "Just about. Thanks."

  "Thank you. I'm so excited to be in the orchestra."

  A tall thin Asian man walked up and said, "Is that a Tim's card? Do I get some?"

  George slipped the card and envelope into his pocket. "Only if you're nice. So probably not. Andrea and Wendy, this is my boyfriend Cam, who's one of the lighting guys here. Cam, Wendy's on backstage crew and Andrea's my new clarinet buddy."

  Cam and I shook hands and he said, "The freaking out one?"

  I laughed as George punched his arm. "I'm not usually. Just for that audition. But George rescued me."

  Cam rubbed where George had hit him. "Wish someone would rescue me from him."

  We all laughed, then David called the meeting to attention. As we worked through the schedule and David's expectations I began to wonder what I'd gotten myself into. The orchestra would be practicing on our own twice weekly, which wasn't too bad, but once we were three weeks away from the October opening night we'd be there with the cast four times a week. The week before the show opened we'd all have nightly rehearsals and spend the full weekend in final preparations, and then of course the eight performances the next week. Exhausting.

  David asked about schedule conflicts, and I told him I'd be away for the conference two weeks before the show. He wrote it down and said, "We'll survive without you for that week."

  "Speak for yourself," George said, and I smiled at him.

  Once the meeting was over we had a pizza dinner and hung out and chatted. They were all friendly, and I felt included and comfortable. But their stories of how tired they always were during the week before a show, which they called 'hell week', frightened me.

  "It's not really that bad," George said eventually, and I turned toward him, hopeful he'd make me feel better.

  "It's not?

  He looked at me, then admitted, "Actually, it is."

  Everyone but me laughed. I had wanted to do something new and exciting, and now I was. But I still had to do my job, and I wanted to crochet and read and maybe sleep occasionally. Would this reversal be great or would I be destroyed by hell week?

  Chapter Seventeen

  I looked back and forth between them, knowing I'd heard Anna right but not able to believe what she'd said. "Why? I can handle it."

  Gary cleared his throat and stared at Anna as if willing her to respond, and she did. "It's not permanent, at least not yet. We just don't want anything to go wrong."

  "But that's my point. It won't. You don't need to send Tina instead of me, because I am completely fine and will handle the conference like always. Have you had any worries about me in the past?"

  Gary began fiddling with his watch strap and Anna said, "No, we've always been happy with your work. And we still are okay with it. But Tina's going to the conference in October and that's just the way it is."

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to continue though my heart was racing and I felt sick. "Anna, I don't understand. I know I wasn't myself after Alex left me, but I've been back for weeks now and doing fine. Doesn't that prove I'll be all right?"

  She took a swallow from her water bottle before replying. "We have given this a lot of thought, and we think the best thing for the department, and the company as a whole, is to have Tina handle this conference. January is still up in the air, and for next May's big one we might send you both. October, though, is set."

  Her reference to the company as a whole made their rationale clearer. We'd been taken over by a new management team a year ago; at the time Anna and Gary hadn't been a top priority but rumor had it that the team was now looking carefully at every last person on staff. My bosses were no doubt aware that even the faintest hint of 'sending someone who had a breakdown to represent the company' wouldn't do them any favors.

  I stared down at Anna's desk, longing to slink off and hide to lick my wounds. But I couldn't. Not without making a final statement. I raised my head. "I'm sorry you've made this choice. I know I can handle the conference. But you're in charge so I accept your decision."

  The relief in Anna's eyes seemed over the top. Had she been afraid I'd make some sort of crazy scene? Didn't she know me better than that? "Thank you. You can go back to work now."

  I nodded and left, since I couldn't think of anything else to say. I headed to my tiny conference room office to hide, but that plan was shattered when I turned the corner and saw Tina standing by my door.

  "They told you," she said. "I can tell by your face."

  Frustration and anger swept me. "They told you first?"

  She shrugged. "I guess they wanted to make sure I was willing to go. Which of course I am. And hey, maybe we'll both get to go in January or May. It'd be fun. From what I hear the parties at night are amazing."

  I'd never spent more than a few minutes at those parties, because I'd always left with a few potential clients or contacts and spent the evening instead conducting business in a more relaxed atmosphere. "Wouldn't know. I go there to work."

  She rolled her eyes. "And I will too, of course, but there's time for fun too. You really need to relax more."

  "I relax lots. Just not at work."

  "Hey, if you can do both, why not? Oh, and can you give me your contact sheets? Gary says you've got lots of great forms I can use to keep track of the people I meet. And maybe your notes from past years?"

  Bad enough that I wouldn't go to the conference, but now I had to hand over my hard work to my replacement? My immediate reaction was to refuse, but that wouldn't do me any favors with my already doubtful bosses, so I sighed and said, "Come on in," and spent the next two hours getting Tina up to speed on the conference that should have been mine.

  Chapter Eighteen

  My friendship with Tina cooled a bit in the week or two after she was given my conference. I knew it wasn't her fault but it still rankled, and since she didn't seem anxious to spend time with me either I assumed she felt awkward too.

  Instead, I spent more time with Wendy. She worked in one of the other towers connected to the same lobby as mine, for another data analysis company. We had coffee together a few times a week now, and while we enjoyed discussing our jobs and the oddities of our bosses we hadn't touched on anything more personal than her jewelry and my cat. I'd mentioned the reversing project, and she'd thought it was neat but didn't suggest we should do it together. I didn't mind the slight distance between us, though, because I sensed that Wendy was slow to open up but would be a great friend once she did. I could wait for a friend like that.

  But I did stretch our boundaries a little by bringing up my newest pastime.

  "I could never do that," Wendy said. "Good for you."

  I laughed. "I'm so bad at it. But Nadia says I'll get better. I could hardly get worse."

  I'd been surprised by last week's phone call from the bellydance teacher, and even more surprised when she said, "One class isn't enough to really try it, you know. Sign up for the full eight-week session. If you hate it after that I'll refund all your money, but at least you'll have given it a fair shot."

  Stung by the suggestion I'd wimped out, I'd agreed, and Friday's class had been more enjoyable than I'd expected. I still moved like a zombie with no rhythm but Nadia and the other students were hugely supportive, and by the end of class I'd been delighted to actually produce something resembling a hip shimmy and they'd been delighted for me.

  "If you ever do a recital I'll come watch," Wendy promised.
/>   I smiled. We'd gone to the musical theater meeting together but otherwise hadn't socialized outside of work, and I loved that she might want to at some point. I didn't think I'd ever want to dance for an audience but if I did I'd be happy to have her there. "You got it."

  "Anything new on the conference front?"

  I shook my head, then nearly talked her ear off with my annoyance about Anna and Gary. In the last week they'd been eying me like you'd watch a nearby raccoon you were afraid might be rabid. I'd been trying to act as normal as I could, but the more I tried the harder it was to remember how I acted normally, and I knew I was saying the wrong thing at times.

  "It feels so weird," I finished, "when it seems like they're hanging on my every word. No, that's not right... they're observing my every word. And I don't think they like what I'm saying."

  Wendy sipped her coffee then set it down and studied me. "How committed are you to staying at DataSource?"

  I grimaced. "Two months ago I'd have said completely, but now I'm not so sure. Why?"

  Another sip of coffee, and I realized she was deliberating over something. Then she said, "We have an opening for an analyst in my department. We had one quit three months ago and poor Loren is killing himself trying to keep up with all the work. I could put in a good word for you, if you'd like."

  Would I like? I rested my elbows on the table and propped my chin on my hands. "Your boss doesn't sound as paranoid as Anna and Gary, so that'd be a nice change."

  She grinned. "But you know she's weird and prone to inappropriate comments."

  I did; I'd laughed until I'd cried over last week's tale of the boss pointing to another woman, fortunately not Wendy, during a meeting and saying, "You bought a push-up bra. Good for you."

  I gestured to my chest. "She'd never think I got a push-up bra, though. She might suggest I get implants, but that'd be about it."

  Wendy laughed. "She might, actually. She loves hers."

  "You know your boss has implants?"

  She gave a fake shudder. "Damn near had to see the scars from the surgery. She's awfully proud of them. But she's a good egg underneath the crazy. So, what do you think?"