“You don’t have to make the moment perfect.”
He looked at me.
“Then what do I do?”
“Be there for it.”
He nodded.
That sounded like something Mrs. Parker might say.
Maybe she’d been teaching him longer than I realized.
The concert began.
Traditional songs came first.
Winter songs.
A jazz arrangement.
A cheerful piece involving bells that one student nearly dropped.
Then Ms. Delgado stepped to the microphone.
“Our final piece tonight has waited a long time to be heard in this form.”
Mrs. Parker lowered her head.
Daniel sat beside her.
Marianne sat on her other side.
Three people connected by choices made half a century earlier.
None of those choices could be changed.
Yet somehow they had still brought everyone here.
Ms. Delgado continued.
“The music was written by Thomas Mercer. The lyrics were written by one of our students.”
She looked backstage.
“Owen?”
He walked out.
