My job is so boring. Like, seriously. I've worked here for four years, and it's always been this way. Honestly, I'm surprised the store hasn't shut down already. But there are those few people who do come in, usually looking for mouthpieces or strings. Every so often you get someone in here looking to buy an actual instrument. And at the beginning of the year we get a ton of parents in here buying those crappy little recorders that elementary schools force kids to play for whatever reason. But those days are few and far between. Most days it's just me sitting here, texting my friends or checking my social media page. Waiting for the stupid clock to tick by faster so I can get the hell out of here. And summers... well, they are the absolute worst. I'm convinced time ticks slower in the summer. It's like it knows how badly I want to go to the beach or the movies, and so it taunts me by adding thirty seconds to every minute so it takes that much longer. Man, talk about torture.
Oh, and to add to my misery, there's a lesson room right behind me. It is so hard some days to sit here and listen to five year olds slam their little fingers against piano keys, or middle schoolers using their flutes as whistles. There are days when I leave with the most agonizing of headaches. Headaches that can only be cured with real music and the lake. Maybe even a Hudson burger, if I'm lucky. My mouth waters, and I can't help it. I look at the clock. Ugh, it's only been three hours! I still have five left! I slam my head against the wall behind me, and I hear it make a hard thunk sound.
My phone bings, and I look down. A text from Sam asking me what time I get off work. She wants to see a movie. Some new superhero movie, no doubt. She's obsessed with those. I smile at the thought of eating salty, buttery popcorn and ice-cold diet pop while sitting in a cool movie theater. I honestly don't care what we see. I'm just excited at the prospect of doing something other than sitting in this store. Waiting and watching as time continues to torment me. I send her a text to let her know I'll be off at five, and then I lean my head back again, softer this time.
A little boy with ginger hair walks in with his parents. I sit up and smile. "Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Locke. And hello, Hunter." The boy smiles sheepishly at me and hides behind his father's pant leg. He can't be any older than six. "How are you today? Enjoying the warm weather?"
Mrs. Locke grins at me. "Oh, the weather is so beautiful outside. Hunter here can't wait to go to the splash pad later." She pauses briefly, wiping her auburn hair out of her eyes and placing her hand on her son's shoulder. "Anyway, how are you, Lauren? Have any exciting plans for today?"
I shrug my shoulders. "Not really. I'm working all day. But my friend is talking about going to see a movie later. So there's that, I guess."
"Oh, what movie?" Mrs. Locke asks.
"Oh, I'm sure she'll want to see that new superhero movie. That seems to be her thing. Action. Damsels in distress. Radioactive whatevers. You know, typical stupid comic book turned movie stuff."
"Watch your mouth, young lady," Mr. Locke says teasingly. "I grew up on 'stupid comic books,' you know."
I laugh. A genuine laugh. I have a soft spot for this family. Their kid, Hunter, plays the violin. Or at least, he's learning. That's the only instrument I can stand to hear in the back room. I don't know, I just love the sound of someone trying to learn my instrument. I've been playing the violin since I was younger than Hunter. My mom plays piano, and she came into this very shop when I was about three to get... I don't even know. Something for the piano. And she says I walked right over to the violin, picked it up, and started playing it. Just like that. No practice necessary. It was like whoever owned my soul before me was an expert, and I just inherited their talent. Kind of crazy. I remember how she told that story at my party. The one where we all celebrated me getting into Juilliard. And I feel a knot start to form in the pit of my stomach.
"Sorry, Mr. Locke," I reply to his teasing, forcing that memory out of my mind. Then I look down at the appointment sheet. "You guys are a few minutes early. Suzie will be done with her current lesson in a few minutes."
"Thank you, sweetie," Mrs. Locke says. Then she looks down at Hunter. "Why don't we go look at some CDs? See if there are any new songs we want to practice."
"Okay," Hunter replies. The three of them walk over to the CD section, and I follow them with my eyes. Hunter is such a cute kid. So shy. And modest, too. He has talent, even though he's only been playing for a few months. Still, he's getting it. I enjoy his lessons. As annoying as it is when kids screw around in the lesson room, it is fun to hear them when they're actually trying. The problem is, so many kids don't want to try. Their parents want them to, and they think it's stupid, so they goof off for the whole hour and waste their mom and dad's money. Not many kids play instruments these days. At least not seriously. Except those dumb recorders. For a few weeks of their lives. And let me tell you, those are the worst things ever invented.
My phone bings again. Claire. Asking me the same question as Sam. What time do I get off work? I look at the clock again. How is it possible that it's only been five minutes since the last time I looked? I fight back a groan, but only because the Lockes are just a few feet away. Then I text Claire the same thing I texted Sam just minutes ago. She writes me back almost instantly, expressing how much I suck. I sigh. I know, Claire. I know. No need to remind me. She asks if I'm going to the movie with them when I get off work. I write her back with a simple "duh." She sends me a poop emoji, and I laugh. Typical. So typical.
The door opens behind me, and I see Suzie come out. She's a middle-aged woman with curly brown hair and thick, horn-rimmed glasses. She's wearing a really pretty sundress with pictures of cats all over, and her hair is done up in a messy bun that makes her look older than she actually is. She's been my teacher since that fateful day with the violin, and she's like a second mother to me. She owns the music shop where I work: Know Strings Attached. Clever, right? Gotta know the strings attached to your instrument. Anyway, Suzie owns the shop. And it's just her. She's not married. Has no children. Her pupils are her children, and music is the only real romance in her life.
"You did a great job today, Emma," Suzie says sweetly to a little girl with long brown hair and really pretty green eyes. "Just keep working on what we've been practicing, okay? You'll get it soon."
"Thank you, Miss Suzie," the girl named Emma replies. Then her green eyes fall on me, and she smiles. "Hey, Lauren! Did you hear me?" I nod my head. "Don't I sound great? I feel like I'm getting so much better!"
"You really are!" I gush, and I feel my heart grow ten sizes as she turns red with excitement. She's ten years old, and she's been playing the clarinet since I started working here. She has a really hot older brother, too. He went to Lake City High School with me, and Claire and Sam have the biggest crush on him. His name's Kevin, but he goes by Kev. And he has those same green eyes. You could get lost in them. But Kev is totally off limits because of a pact we all made in middle school. We all thought he was gorgeous, and because we all wanted him, none of us could have him. Our friendship was worth more than some hot guy.
As the years went on, I grew out of my small crush on Kev and developed one on a kid in my geometry class named Parker Young. He was so cute, and so smart. But I was quiet and shy, and... well, that whole thing did not turn out well for me. It was mortifying when he asked Claire to prom after rejecting me for the Sadie Hawkins dance. She didn't go with him though. Because of the Girl Code. She and Sam still gush about Kev, but for years now I've kind of thought he was a bit of a jerk. Honestly, I can't remember what I ever saw in him. Other than his looks. He is really good looking.
Kev isn't here to pick Emma up today, though. It's her mom. And you guessed it. Same green eyes, only they're sitting behind a pair of really cute glasses. Rhinestones and everything. Adorable! She walks into the store and smiles when she sees her daughter. Emma runs up to her and hugs her tight around the middle. They start talking about her lesson immediately, and Emma cannot resist the urge to bring up the yearly Know Strings Attached Recital. She's playing her clarinet again this year, but it's the first time she's chosen her own solo piece. So you can imagine how stoked she is. I can't blame her. I remember the first time I got to choose my solo piece. Of course, I've been choosing my own solos for a long time now.
"Bye, Lauren!" Emma calls, and I wave at her as she walks out the door. Then I watch as the Lockes walk back into the practice room. And just like that, I'm all alone again. I look at the clock. Oh my God. How is it possible that only half an hour has gone by? This totally sucks. I check my phone, but when I see I have no new text messages or social media notifications, I put it on sleep mode and pull out the book I've been reading. It's some mystery thriller. The only kind of books I really like to read. Claire and Sam both love romances. That stuff just makes me gag. It's always so cliché, you know? Girl meets boy. Girl falls in love with boy. Girl somehow screws it up. Boy forgives her. The end. I like books with a twist. Books that make you really think. I love trying to solve the puzzle before the characters do. I don't know if there's a better feeling in the world than that. Except maybe when a book stumps you.
Behind me, I can hear Hunter beginning his practice session. He starts out kind of shaky, but after a minute he starts to get it. I smile. I love that sound, even if it's a bit rocky. I don't know what it is about the violin. I just know I was made to play it. I don't have practice sessions anymore. At least not with Suzie. I practice on my own at home three nights a week. Sometimes more, if I'm feeling up to it. And if my social life will allow. I'm really not big into parties, but Claire is, so I go to a lot of them. Most of the time I get ignored. I've never been the prettiest girl at the parties, always being somewhat of a plain Jane. My hair is long and a straight, dingy brown. And no matter what I do, it will not hold a curl. I'm about five foot five, and I'm pretty thin. Some may even call me petite, which I hate. Makes me feel fragile and weak. Claire always says she's jealous of how thin I am. She's really curvy, but I wouldn't say she's overweight at all. She's tried dieting so many times but has never been able to lose more than a couple pounds. Meanwhile I can eat a whole pizza by myself and not gain a single pound. Metabolisms are weird.
Speaking of which, I am starving. My stomach is growling just thinking about food. I can feel my mouth watering, and I dig around in my bag for a snack. I know I put a granola bar in here before I left this morning. Now where the heck is it? Lipstick. Pens. Wallet. Damnit, why can I never find the one item I'm looking for. I swear, if I was looking for my lipstick, I would find my stupid granola bar. I bend down and continue my search, feeling my frustration rise as my fingers feel around for the plastic wrapper. Ah ha! There it is! I pull my hand out of my bag and tear the wrapper open. I can smell the chocolate chips and peanut butter before I even put it up to my lips. I sink my teeth into the hard, lumpy, rectangular shaped bar, and I roll my eyes. So good. It's not a meatball sub, which I am definitely craving. Why didn't I think to bring an actual lunch this morning? Ah well, I'm sure Suzie will give me a small lunch break so I can walk across the street to the sandwich shop and get a meatball sub. In the meantime, I'll just snack on my granola bar and read for a bit.
Know Strings Attached is in downtown Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. Right in the heart of town. I have no idea how Suzie affords it. The shop gets very little business. Sales are almost always down. She probably gets all her money from teaching. She is supposedly the best music teacher in town. Something of which I believe wholeheartedly. I don't think there's an instrument that woman can't play with near perfection. And she can sing pretty well, too. On the wall behind me is her Master's Degree in Music Education from the University of Maryland. And around that are a bunch of pictures of her, much younger, hanging out with some pretty famous musicians. I always have a hard time believing that my Suzie knows all these really cool people. And that she chooses to teach rather than make millions of dollars going on tour is a mark of how genuine of a person she is. I love her. With all my heart.
If I was going to tell anyone about the missing spark in me, it would be her. And I've come close a few times. But then I look at all those pictures of her with all those amazing people, and I stay silent. She wouldn't understand. How could she? I really try not to think about Juilliard, but the thoughts creep up on me when I'm alone. I wish the spark would come back to me. Maybe then I'd feel better about everything. But lately I've been thinking that it might be gone forever. Taking my dreams along with it.