Before We Were Strangers Read online

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Generally speaking, a person’s medical history is their own private business.” She held up a little dough ball. “Donut hole?”

  “Don’t try to distract me. Are you sick, Grace?” I felt sick myself at the idea.

  “No, I’m not sick. I signed up to do a medical study. You wanna do it, too?”

  “You’re letting them use you as a guinea pig for free donuts and coffee?”

  “I’m getting eighty bucks a day. That’s a lot.”

  “Grace, are you crazy? What kind of study is this?”

  “I just have to take this medicine and then they take me off of it and see if I have any withdrawal symptoms.”

  “What? No,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. I turned her by the shoulders and pointed her toward the curtain. “Go put your clothes on. You’re not doing this.” I looked down at the open hospital gown in the back. She was so damn cute with her little flowery underwear. I pulled the back closed and tied the strings tight so the flaps overlapped.

  She turned around and looked up at me with her big green eyes full of tears. “I have to do it, Matt. I need to get my cello back.”

  “Back from where?”

  “I pawned it for money to pay the rest of my tuition.”

  “What about your student loans and financial aid?”

  “I had to give some of it to my mom because my little sister needed to get a tooth fixed and they didn’t have the money.” Tears fell from her eyes. When I reached up to brush them away, she flinched.

  “Grace, I won’t let you do this. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Grace selling her cello seemed crazy to me, considering she was a music major. It was hard for me to understand her level of desperation.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Explain it to me then.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve been helping my parents out. Their situation is more dire than I’ve let on, so I’ve been sending whatever I can from my student loan money. I’m almost out of cash for the semester and my mom called and said she and my dad were going to be evicted. They had the money to cover the rent but my little sister had a broken tooth that needed to be fixed and their credit is shot so they had to pay in cash. I couldn’t stand the thought of my sister going to school in pain with a broken front tooth.”

  I was shocked, but that didn’t mean Grace needed to participate in potentially dangerous medical studies. “It’s not your problem.”

  “It’s my family. I read about this study and I can make the money back before next week. They pay you every day. I’m going to get my cello back and everything will be fine. But I have to do this, Matt. It’s not a big deal.”

  “It’s a huge deal, Grace. You don’t know how this medication will affect you.”

  “You still don’t get it.”

  “I’m trying to. I have some money. I’ll get your cello back for you.”

  She shook her head. “I won’t let you. You need to buy photo paper and film.”

  “I have plenty. Don’t worry.” Grace hated letting me help her. She wanted to be independent. “Go change—it’ll be okay.”

  She turned and shuffled behind the curtain. When she came back out, she was smiling uncertainly. “You must think I’m insane.”

  “I like your neuroses.” I put my arm around her shoulder. “I’m just not going to let anyone use you as a lab rat.”

  As she walked by the refreshment table, she scooped a handful of creamers out of the bowl and shoved them into her bag. She would steal creamers everywhere we went, mix them with water, and pour them over her cereal. I smiled at her and shook my head. In a silly voice she said, “Just goin’ grocery shoppin’.” The mood suddenly lifted and we both laughed as we walked out the door. Still, it killed me to think Grace was sending her parents money that her dad was probably using for beer.

  We went to the bank and I withdrew the last three hundred dollars I had. I didn’t tell Grace that I actually had negative eight cents in my account after the withdrawal. She took me to the pawnshop where she had dealt her cello, and we were greeted by a middle-aged man behind the counter. “Hello, Grace,” he said.

  I shot Grace a disapproving look. “He knows you?” I whispered.

  She pinched her eyebrows together. “Kind of.”

  “Here to pick up your cello?”

  “Yep,” Grace said.

  I handed the man three hundred dollars. He went into the back and returned a moment later with the large cello case. Grace completed the paperwork and we left. Once outside the building, I turned to her. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

  I went back inside the pawnshop and asked the man for a piece of paper. “Here’s the number where I live. Please don’t let Grace pawn her cello again. She’s an extraordinary musician. She needs it for school. Just call me and I’ll come down and straighten things out.”

  That night, after Grace went to bed, I snuck down to the lounge and called my father collect from the payphone.

  “Son?”

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hey there. You impressing everyone at NYU?” Sarcasm seeped through every syllable. He was never good at hiding his disdain.

  “I called because I have a friend who needs help and I was wondering if you could loan me some money to lend to her.” My pride was completely gone. I closed my eyes and waited for his response.

  “This is for a her? A girlfriend?”

  “No, Dad. It’s not like that.”

  “You get some girl in trouble? Is that what you’re telling me?”

  I took a deep breath. “She’s my closest friend here, and she doesn’t have any help financially. Not like me and Alex. She’s putting herself through school almost completely on her own. She’s a musician and needs a new cello, but she can’t afford it.” I had to lie a little; I didn’t want to go into all the details.

  “You know, I have your brother’s wedding to pay for.”

  “Monica’s parent’s aren’t paying for the wedding?”

  “Well, we want to throw them a nice engagement party, and then we have the rehearsal dinner and open bar and . . .”

  “Okay, Dad. No problem.”

  A beat of silence. “Well, at least you’re starting to appreciate what we’ve done for you. How much do you need, son?”

  “A few hundred dollars.”

  “I’ll put it in your account tomorrow. You know, I’m willing to help you out, Matthias. Just because you’ve decided on the hardest possible future . . .”

  I laughed. He couldn’t help himself.

  “I’ll get a job and pay you back. Thanks, Dad.” I hung up.

  As painful as it was to call him, I didn’t care; all I could think about was how hard Grace worked, all the sacrifices she made just to play her music. She believed in it, she had faith that it would all be worth it, and what is faith if it doesn’t endure? That’s what I was learning from her: how to have faith in myself and my art.

  I felt it for Grace before I even had a name for it. I might have said the word a million times, but it sounded different now that I meant it. When I thought about what we had, it didn’t matter that it was just friendship. I loved her.

  8. You Changed Me

  GRACE

  Even though I had mastered the art of running while carrying a giant cello case, I was still late to class the next morning. Thankfully, Professor Pornsake liked me and his class was a breeze, though not because I was a teacher’s pet, as Tatiana claimed. All I had to do was play my cello, the one thing I did well. On most days, I would close my eyes, forget about everything, and escape into the music. But that Friday was different.

  “You’re late again, Graceland.”

  “Grace,” I corrected him as I pulled my cello and bow from the case. There were several broken hairs hanging from the bow, and I attempted to pull them off while Dan hovered over me in his khakis, belted too high, and his orange polo shirt two sizes too small. I shot him a
peeved look to let him know I was irritated over the unnecessary attention. “What?” I said.

  He grabbed the bow from my hand and studied it. “This is nylon.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re first chair, Grace. Get a quality bow. Why are you using this crap?” A bit of his mustache stuck out over his top lip and wiggled as he spoke.

  “I’m a member of PETA. I don’t use bows made with horse hair.”

  I could see Tatiana’s body shaking with laughter in the chair in front of me.

  Pornsake smirked. “Come on. Really?”

  I huffed. “I’ll get a new bow this week.” I knew I couldn’t afford it, but he was right—nylon bows were crap.

  “Good deal. Okay guys, let’s start with Pachelbel’s ‘Canon.’ ”

  Tatiana sighed audibly. We were so sick of playing that song. It was like every music teacher was preparing us to be in one of those string quartets that plays at weddings. Pachelbel’s “Canon,” Handel’s “Water Music,” and Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” were ingrained so deeply into our minds and muscles that I literally started to believe it was affecting my ability to play other songs.

  Pornsake walked to the front of the room and started counting down from three. I kicked Tati’s chair and whispered, “Irish style.” We started playing the traditional way and then slowly picked up the pace, throwing off everyone in the room. Many of the others stopped playing and just glared at us as Tati and I turned the classic into an Irish jig. The music students with a sense of humor put their instruments down and started clapping to the beat, and some even tried to play along. We got a short round of applause at the end, but Pornsake stood still as a statue at the front of the room, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Really cute. Maybe you two can be street performers. God knows New York desperately needs more street performers.”

  I didn’t say anything because I was already on thin ice, but Tatiana spoke up. “Professor Porn . . . Sake . . .” I slapped my hand over my mouth to hold in my laughter as Tati continued, completely straight-faced. “We just need to mix it up.”

  He nodded like a bobblehead for five seconds straight. “Fine. I’m not feeling it today anyway. You’re all free to go. Practice in the park and get some fresh air. We’ll get back into this tomorrow.”

  I reached down to open my cello case, celebrating for two seconds inside until I felt Pornsake hovering over me again. “Except for you, Grace. Stick around.”

  I froze in my chair with my eyes fixed on his beige Top-Siders. I had a sick feeling in my stomach, wondering if he was going to wait for everyone to leave the room so he could proposition me.

  Crossing my legs and arms, I sat back in my cold metal chair and waited as the other students packed up. Tati turned around and looked at me blankly. Smoothing her frizzy brown hair into a ponytail, she whispered, “Why does he want you to stay?”

  I shrugged. “No clue.”

  “Hey, do you and Matt want to hang out tonight? Brandon wants to get drunk.”

  “Why do you always assume I’ll be with Matt? We’re not dating.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know, you don’t date. I assume you’ll be with Matt ’cause you guys are always together.”

  “I need to study, actually. I’m staying home tonight. Matt can do whatever he wants, though.” It seemed like everyone thought Matt and I were a couple. I was feeling the pressure to get my application in for grad school, which seemed like the logical next step, but it was like I had no self-control when it came to Matt. I wanted to be with him every second of the day, but my grades were suffering, and I knew I’d slip out of first chair with my stupid antics.

  “Why don’t you and Matt just bone and get it over with already?”

  Pornsake walked up at that moment. “Well, Tatiana, it’s a blessing, and quite frankly a miracle, that your vulgarity has not seeped into your craft.” Pornsake was always blabbering about craft. Tatiana was a phenomenal musician, but once she put the violin down there was nothing classical about her. She had a tough exterior and a lot of Jersey girl in her.

  “Thanks, Teach, I’ll take that as a compliment. Bye, Grace.” She picked up her violin case. As she left the room, she called back over her shoulder, “Come over tonight after you and Matthias bone.”

  Pornsake stared down at me, expressionless. “Take a walk with me?”

  I figured being in public was a good option. “Sure.” I stood and followed him out the door. He walked at a faster-than-normal pace, and I quickly ran out of breath, lugging my cello case behind me, trying to keep up. “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see. It’s just down here.” We walked four blocks until we got to the corner of a small brick building. We were standing in front of a music store. There was no signage but I could see musical instruments through the glass door. “This is Orvin’s shop. He’s the best bow-maker on the planet.”

  I sucked air in through my teeth. “Professor . . .”

  “Please, call me Dan.”

  “Dan . . . I don’t have the money to buy a new bow. I was just going to have mine restrung.”

  He bobbed his head in understanding. “Grace, I don’t normally do these kinds of things for my students, but I want to do this for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m going to buy you a bow because you’re very talented. I love the way you play, and you have a great instrument there.” He glanced down at my case. “You should have a great bow.”

  While he waited for my response, I looked at the way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled, and for the first time I found charm in his good-humored face. “Okay,” I replied.

  “Come on, you have to meet this guy.” He opened the door and motioned for me to go inside. Behind the counter stood a small man, at least seventy years old, with a bit of gray hair sprouting wildly from the sides of his head.

  “Daniel, my boy,” he said in a thick German accent. “Who have you brought to me?”

  “Orvin, this is my most talented student, Grace.” Wow, really? I had no idea.

  I set my cello down, leaned over the counter, and shook his hand. He held my hand in his for a few seconds, inspecting it. “Small and delicate for a cellist, but strong, I can see.”

  “Yes. Grace needs a new bow, and I’d like for her to have the best.”

  “Sure, sure, I have something that would fit her perfectly.” He went into the back room and came out with the most beautiful bow I had ever seen. He handed it to me, and the soft wood at the base felt like butter between my fingers. “Wow, this is so smooth.”

  “It’s brazilwood and real silver, made with the finest horse hair,” Dan said. Orvin nodded. A moment later, Dan pulled his checkbook out of his back pocket, looked over to Orvin, and arched his eyebrows.

  “Eleven,” Orvin said.

  “Eleven what?” I said, my voice rising.

  Neither answered me. “Be right back,” Orvin said, heading into the back room and returning a moment later with the bow wrapped up.

  Dan handed him a check, took the bow, and looked over at me. “Ready?”

  I shot him my best hairy eyeball. “You’re kidding me, right? You just bought me an eleven-hundred-dollar bow?”

  “Consider it an investment. Come on.”

  Once outside, he tried to hand me the bow wrapped in paper.

  “Really, Dan, I can’t accept this. I seriously cannot pay you back. I barely have enough money to eat.”

  “Then let me take you to dinner,” he said, instantly.

  I starred up at him, blinking my eyes, while he waited for my answer.

  “I . . .”

  “It’s not a date, Grace.”

  “It feels like a date.” I was hesitant to agree; I still wasn’t sure what Dan wanted from me.

  “It’s just a meal. We can talk about the orchestra I’m forming this summer. I was thinking I’d like you to be a part of it.”

  “Okay. Um . . .”

 
“Come on. Please?”

  My college music professor was begging to take me to dinner. I looked around for other signs that I had been transported to an alternate universe.

  “What time?”

  “I’ll come by Senior House at seven. You like Thai food?”

  “Sure.”

  “There’s a place about two blocks away from your dorm. It’s pretty good.”

  “I know the place. I’ll meet you there.” The restaurant was right across from the photo store Matt had just started working at. I hoped we wouldn’t see him.

  By the time I got back to Senior House it was freezing out. I scurried through the lobby and up to my room and practiced for a few hours with my new bow. It was amazing how much it changed the quality of the sound. It amplified the music even more, filling the room with crisp notes.

  By six o’clock I was starving, and frankly looking forward to dinner with Pornsake, even though I knew it would be uncomfortable. My plan was to eat the crap out of the free meal and try to keep the conversation light. I chose purple wool leggings and a long gray sweater with boots. I pinned my hair up into a bun on the top of my head and then wrapped a thick black scarf around my neck. I added a tiny bit of mascara and lip gloss for good form and then smoked half a joint, against my better judgment. I thought dinner with my music professor warranted a little chemical mind alteration. I trotted down the stairs and into the lounge, where I made a cup of hot chocolate.

  Carey Carmichael and Jason Wheeler, two students who lived on my floor, were sitting on the leather sofa, whispering to each other.

  “Hey, Grace, where’s Matt?” Carey asked.

  I fumbled through the stack of magazines on the console table behind the couch. “I think he’s in the darkroom at school, developing prints.”

  I noticed Carey shoot Jason a questioning look.

  Jason turned around to face me. “So, are you guys dating or what?”