There was a time…when she was young…that Jordan imagined she’d be a concert pianist.
Life, and so many expectations, got in the way of that dream and she set it aside as a childish whim.
Then she met Albert and there was no time for childish things.
A business associate of her older brother Robert’s, Albert was up and coming in the finance world and required quite specific things from the woman in his life.
All things she knew and understood.
After all, her mother had sent her through a special comportment school to learn them. To be the pretty female on the arm of a powerful man. To take away all the cares and worries of a home life so he could focus on making more money, better connections, and collecting power.
When she took the courses, she quietly snickered at the elitist snobbery that saturated the place.
“Who do these people think they are?” she asked herself. “Are table settings and calligraphy the only things they care about?”
The unequivocal answer was…yes. All for the single goal of living a luxurious life provided by a man as long as “services” were provided. It was indeed all they cared about and now…fifteen years later, she was one of them.
The services included in her marriage did not include sex. She was redundant in that department.
When she attempted to discuss Albert’s infidelities with her brother, Robert laughed at her. “You have all this,” he gestured around the foyer of their mansion in Upstate New York, “and you complain about a little entertainment on the side?”
“He hasn’t been to this home in six months, Robbie. I live here alone unless I’m summoned to Manhattan to host a party or am given instructions to hold one here.”
“You’re ridiculous, Jordan. Grow up and do what’s expected of you.”
“I see. Thank you for coming, Robert. Have a safe drive back.”
“I thought we were having lunch…”
“Get out, Robert. If you can’t see me as a human being and treat me as such, you can take a flying fucking leap. Outside my front door, if you please.”
“You don’t understand. You will never understand. I pity you – and Albert – the inability to experience true emotional connections to people rather than your money and positions. Get out. We clearly have nothing left to talk about.”
He refused to leave, stunned by her audacity and hysterics. She closed herself in her office until he tired of banging on the door. Hours later, she wandered the estate, exploring the rooms she was in charge of stocking for guests.
She was on the third floor, in a wing of Albert’s family home she’d never seen, when she found the piano.
It was as if fifteen years of wasted breath suddenly lifted from her conscience. As she sat, she ran her fingers lightly over the keys. The music was there – just as it had always been.
It was time to go.
Six months later…
Andre flipped through the newspaper, increasingly frustrated. Then he happened upon a small ad on the second to the last page.
Piano player available.
Flexible hours accepted.
Proficient in most forms from classical to rock.
Non-smoker, non-drinker. Dependable.
Looking to find where I fit.
There was something about the last line that grabbed him. He took out his cell phone and dialed the number.
© Shayne McClendon