Two Lovers

I parked outside Antoine's bistro 20 minutes early.

I was a newcomer to the group, so I didn't want to chance being late. I wanted to make a good first impression as the new piano teacher in town. I knew if these people liked me, they would be more inclined to send students and gigs my way.

As I sat in the parking lot, I hoped the restaurant wouldn't be too expensive. Judging from the red awning, fancy lettering on the door, and real potted plants outside, I guessed it might be more upscale than I could afford.

I pulled up the menu on my phone and saw that it likely set me back 40 dollars to get a soup and small coffee. I grimaced, but it would be worth it for the networking. After all, I needed to be there. I was new to the area, and if I didn't start pulling in money soon, I'd have to move back in with my parents at 35 years old, and I certainly didn't want that to happen.

Money was tight, but hey, you have to spend it to make it, I thought, and realized how sad it was to have to budget 40 dollars for a lunch. Not too long ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about splurging nearly 50 bucks on a meal, but, now that I was single, I had to keep a tight leash on my finances.

I caught up on texts to my mom and a friend of mine back in New York, and I watched a few people walk in. It seemed like they were all very dressed up, and I wondered if the outfit I selected, dress pants and a sweater, was dressy enough. I took note of a particularly handsome man holding a clipboard and briefcase. He wasn't wearing anything nice. He had on business casual jeans and a button up shirt, but he was so handsome he would look appropriate no matter what outfit he was wearing.

Well, if I didn't look good enough, it was too late now. I couldn't go back and change at this late hour. What I was wearing would have to do.

I responded to all the text messages I had put off for a while, played a game on my phone and waited as the clock ticked by slowly. Finally, at 11:27, I deemed I could go inside the restaurant and not seem obnoxiously early.

"Hi, I'm here for the music teacher meeting." I told the Maitre 'd, who was wearing a tux. I felt so out of place.

"It's in the back room," he said. He seemed to be silently judging my clothing. "Right this way."

I was shocked. How did a group of piano teachers in rural Virginia afford this? I was coming from New York City, and we certainly didn't have our meetings in Michelin 5 star restaurants there.

When I entered the back room, I was thrilled to see there was a buffet set up. There was all kinds of food. Breakfast and lunch. Salmon, locks, coffee, salad bar, and soups. I wondered if the meal was paid for. I certainly hoped so. I had paid 150 dollars just to be part of the organization, and money was tight.

"Hi, are you Courtney?" It was the handsome man who had caught my eye earlier coming into the building. He shook my hand. I told him I was and smiled. "I'm Diego." he said with a slight accent. "We're so glad to have you joining us."

"Yeah, this is great." I told him. "I'm excited to be in Virginia, and looking forward to getting set up.

"I put your name on the website, so hopefully that will generate some students for you," he said. I took note of his clean, even teeth, smooth skin and strong jaw. He didn't look like a typical frumpy piano teacher who spent too much time being introspective.

An older lady impeccably dressed with a helmet of white hair then walked in, and Diego said "Courtney, this is Janet Flemming. Janet, Courtney just moved to Virginia from New York, right?" he asked, looking straight at me and holding eye contact. For some reason, this made me feel shy, and I simply nodded my head. Then, another older lady entered, asked him a question, and he left to take care of some detail or another.

I made small talk with Janet, and met a few other piano teachers that wondered in. Mostly older women, but there were a few men, and a few in the under 50 crowd.

Talking with the other teachers felt like the piano equivalent of a pissing contest. Everyone needed to flex how many students they had, where they went to school, and pat themselves on the back.

Of course I fell into the trap too, telling them with false modesty I had gone to Julliard, (which always impresses people, and is the biggest accomplishment on my resume). I then went on to explain I left behind a lucrative business in New York for a change of pace. I wanted to be closer to my parents who were getting older and starting to need my help.

All lies of course, minus the Juilliard part. I left New York because I broke up with my boyfriend, and could no longer afford to keep my business afloat in such an expensive city. Even gigging every night, I couldn't keep living in the city by myself, so I moved to Virginia with only the deposit back from the apartment and a few thousand in savings. I would have to get students soon, and maybe even start looking at jobs teaching classes to little kids or even at jobs teaching elementary school, though I didn't want to do that.

The reason I broke up with my boyfriend in the first place was because I didn't particularly want kids of my own. I liked them well enough to teach lessons for a half hour and send them home, but I liked my evenings to myself, and my vacations to be child free. I guess my boyfriend didn't agree, and saw my 35th birthday as the deadline for deciding about kids, and when I hadn't made up my mind, he put me on the chopping block. He was 40, and done waiting. I supposed it was fair enough.

I filled my plate with delicious items from Antoin's buffet, reasoning that if I did have to pay for it, I might as well enjoy it, and sat down next to a teacher around my age named Lori. We talked about lesson books for a while until she asked me if I had kids. I said "Nope. Happily single" and the conversation seemed to stagnate after that, even if I asked her about her children's ages and what they were into. I had enough experience as a piano teacher to know people loved to talk about their kids.

Finally, Diego went to the front of the room and said "Thank you all for being here today. Please welcome Courtney. She just moved here from New York, and joined our chapter last week." I smiled and waved at everyone generally from my seat, and then Diego talked about piano festival logistics. After that, he introduced the guest speaker, who would be talking about how to prep kids for festivals and contests.

The presentation was good. Everything said seemed intuitive to me, like how to talk to students after a bad performance, but it's always good to get reminders.

Midway through the presentation, I caught Diego staring at me. I looked over, we locked eyes, but I turned away quickly and had to catch my breath.

After it was done, I was thrilled to learn that lunch had been free, and I stayed to make as much small talk as possible. Contacts, I knew, were everything in the music world, and I wanted people to think of me first for gigs they might not be able to take or students they didn't want to teach. I passed my phone number along, and talked up as many of the teachers as I could. I was determined to network and stayed until the bitter end.

Soon only Diego and I remained.

"Well, I guess we're all finished," he said. I looked at my clock and saw it was almost 2:30. "Glad that's over." he said, then laughed as though he just realized I wasn't the right person to say that to, even if I felt the exact same way.

"Oh no, I hear you." I said with a laugh. "Thanks for putting on such a great program." I told him. "I know it's a lot of unpaid work to be the president of something like this."

He shrugged, and I saw his professional mask go back on. "It's a lot of fun. It's all for the students, really." he said. "I think it helps to have these kinds of get-togethers once a month with other teachers."

"Oh absolutely." I said, agreeing, and he went on to tell me about how he had a good friend who was a chef at Antoin's, and that was how he was able to get us lunch for free.

"He owes me!" he joked, and I wondered how serious he was. After a little more talk, he asked me the question everybody seems to ask. "So, how was Juilliard?"

I had seen online that he himself had gone to Indiana University, and then Eastman for a masters degree, which were two top schools, so I was surprised he would ask that. He certainly would be well aware of the pressure cooker conservatory life.

"It was...you know. It was a good experience, but stressful," I told him, then I pointed out that Eastman, depending on who you asked, was a better school in some areas. In fact, sometimes Eastman outranked Julliard. He seemed happy I had pointed that out.

We talked for around 20 minutes about everything. Students, people we knew in music from attending top schools, teachers, technique, etc., when finally the Matre 'd came back in and asked if we were finished with the room.

"Oh, yes, yes." Fernando said, and I took note again of his beautiful accent, then said to me, "Well, I guess I should get going. It was really nice to talk to you." he said, and let his gaze linger. I really liked him, and wondered if he liked me too. I certainly found him attractive. Then I saw the wedding ring on his finger.

...............................................

In the weeks to come, I watched Diego's online videos of recitals he had done, which of course only made me like him more. His musicality was impressive, and his runs were amazing on the Liszt Hungarian Rhapsodies. Much better than mine were, anyway. I was smitten, and wanted more, so I friended him on social media.

Of course it gave me a jolt back into reality to see pictures of his wife. Besides, she was really pretty and her looks were almost opposite of mine.

She was gorgeous. Of course she was. She was likely Spanish like he was, with beautiful eyes, even skin, and a bright smile. Her figure was a lovely hour glass too, whereas I was more tall and thin. It looked like they were mid 30's like me, and had dogs instead of kids, which likely meant they were devoted to each other.

I wished I could find a guy like that. I felt jealous of the two of them. It looked like they were both successful, and busy traveling and indulging themselves. It looked fun to be them.

I had to forget him. We could be colleagues, but nothing more. Maybe one day I could find a guy like Diego. An artist who got me. My ex had been an engineer, so we didn't have much in common. I hoped my next boyfriend would be at least interested in the arts.

As it turned out, Diego did send a few students my way, as did other teachers with full studios, and after a few months, I had a fairly good number of kids taking lessons. I wasn't getting rich, and certainly didn't have the money I'd had previously had with my boyfriend, but combined with a few gigs once in a while, I felt as though I was doing fairly well. I still didn't have health insurance, and certainly wasn't making as much money as I had been in New York, but things were working out, and my name was getting out there.

At the next few music teacher meetings, I felt like things were falling into place, but it was awkward when I saw Diego. I felt an unmistakable pull. I blushed whenever I saw him, and thanked him for tossing some students my way. Still, I left right after meetings, not wanting to stay and talk to him, which would potentially give me a reason to like him more than I did already.

I fantasize about him, though. I couldn't help it. Each time his eyes would catch mine, he seemed to draw me further in, and when he was speaking, I couldn't help but keep my eyes glued to him.

After most meetings I would go home, get out my vibrator and think of him as I managed to work my way up to orgasm with him in mind. Afterwards, I would imagine him holding me and I wanted to know more about him. His likes and dislikes, his experiences on stage and what brought him to Virginia instead of staying in Indiana and New York, or Spain?

I justified my intense masturbation sessions by telling myself crushes are normal. As long as I didn't act on it, what harm was I causing? I only wished I could find somebody. Somebody single, out there I liked as much as I liked Diego. So far, everybody I had dated felt flat and uninteresting. There just weren't many men out there that I wanted to get to know better.

One day, by accident, I ran into Diego and his wife at the grocery store. They were sitting at the coffee shop, and I was in the produce section. At first, I pretended I didn't see them. I thought I would get away with it since they seemed engrossed in conversation, but instead Diego waved me over.

"Courtney! So good to see you!" I tried to force a smile. "Courtney, this is my wife Cynthia. Courtney is part of our music teacher association." I was trying to act as though Diego was just another teacher and I didn't care about him beyond that.

"It's great to meet you." I said, wanting to get away from her as soon as possible.

"It's great to meet you." she echoed. There wasn't a hint of an accent. "Won't you stay for a while and chat?" she asked.

"Oh, I have to get back to shopping." I said, looking over at my empty shopping cart.

"No, come sit," he urged. "Let us get you something to drink. What do you want?"

He was clearly not going to let me get away, so I thought having a conversation with his wife present would help me get over him. Besides, I didn't have any friends here yet. My parents had moved here after I'd left for college, so I didn't know anybody. It wasn't like I had grown up here.

"Um, I guess a Chai tea would be nice." I said, allowing myself to be pulled in. I parked my cart beside the table and sat.

"Julliard, right?" Cynthia asked.

"I did go there." I said, giving her a wry smile. Why was that the only thing anybody ever seemed to say about me? I swear, on my tombstone, it will say here lies Cynthia. She went to Julliard, the end. "What do you do?" I asked, and smiled.

"I'm a curator at the art museum downtown." she said.

"Oh, ok." I said, not surprised in the slightest. Of course she did something amazing and art related. She was married to Diego.

"Yeah" she said. "I never did much with music, but always wanted to. Diego tried to teach me once, but it was too much taking lessons with him." she said and laughed.

"Yeah, I guess it's hard to take lessons from your spouse." I agreed. "So how did you guys meet?" I asked, trying to keep the conversation moving.

"Diego and I met in Indiana." she said and smiled. "We got married 8 years ago.

"No kids?" I asked, as though I didn't know.

"No kids." she said. I couldn't really make out how she felt about it. "You?"

"Nope. None for me either." I said, holding back my urge to tell her I'd been thrown overboard because my stupid ex hadn't wanted to have them. Instead I asked her what it was like being a museum curator, talked about the difference in the weather between here and New York city, and asked her about her dogs and what their names were. I found out they were Sam and Duke.

"Here we go. One Chai tea latte." Diego said, putting a cup in front of me.

"Thank you." I told him and smiled, trying not to look like I was smitten with him. I took a sip. It was nice. I hadn't had anything from an actual coffee shop for a long time and had been making coffee at home to save money. It felt good to be treated.

"What are you girls talking about?" he asked with a smile. I loved the lilt in his voice. His accent was so smooth and sexy.

'Oh nothing much. Just work." Cynthia said.

"So how are you liking Fairfield so far?" Diego asked.

I told him about the apartment where I lived, how much I enjoyed the town. How my father had gotten a job here while I was in school, but that I liked the seasons here, so far. Spring was glorious, and I loved the blossoms on the trees and how beautiful everything was. I also liked that there was a winter, but it wasn't overly harsh.

"You know, Cynthia wants to learn piano." Diego said after a few minutes.

"She does?" I asked, looking surprised. I looked over at Cynthia, and she was blushing a little.

"You might be the perfect person to teach her." he said, smiled, and winked at Cynthia.

"Ok." I said, not knowing what else to say. "I appreciate your vote of confidence." I said, and wondered if all that staring and flirtatious behavior was simply because he wanted a piano teacher for his wife.

"She gets frustrated with me, and really wants to learn. We'd pay your fee of course." he said, and I realized I loved the way he pronounced any word with an R in it.

"I mean, I guess we could try it." I told him, and he in turn looked over at her. "If it's really something you want to do."

I could tell she did want to do it, and that the two of them had likely talked about it. Maybe not with me as a teacher per se, but they had discussed it. "I always wanted to know more about what Diego does." she said, still a little red in the face.

"Well, sure. I guess." feeling as though I wouldn't have agreed had they asked me in any other circumstance. If I had been sent a text or a phone call, I wouldn't have said yes. Somehow it's harder to say no in person.

"Oh that's great!" she said, suddenly smiling. "We were thinking of calling you, but here you are."

"So what book do you want her to use?" Diego asked.

"Oh, any adult book you have is fine." I said, not wanting him to have to go out and buy anything new. Besides, I had been through them all anyway.

"I'm so excited!" she said, and clapped her hands.

"Well, I'll look at my schedule and shoot you a few times we can meet. How's your work schedule?" I asked.

......................................................

Cynthia came to my apartment for lessons the next week. I wondered if maybe she had somehow sensed the attraction I had to Diego, and wanted to stop anything that might happen before it got started. Or maybe I needed to stop over thinking everything and accept she just wanted to learn piano.

"It's nice you can teach here in the apartment." she said looking around at the two rooms I had rented.

She looked at the artwork on my walls, and exclaimed I had a great eye. "Wow, you really incorporated that Degas print well." she said, and I told her I always loved art (and dance for that matter) from an early age, though I felt she was just being kind. I knew from looking at pictures that Diego had a much nicer studio space, and she had likely been responsible for that.

Finally, we made our way to the piano, and she asked me how it was, teaching in my own apartment.

"I'm lucky. I have great neighbors." I said, and I wasn't kidding. I had the nicest older lady below me who didn't seem to mind if I played the piano at midnight or wore tap shoes. Not that I owned a pair, but she wouldn't have minded if I did.

The lesson was indistinguishable from the hundreds if not thousands of first lessons I'd taught over the years. It. Cynthia asked the same kinds of questions everybody else did when they started piano. She got her two and four fingers mixed up, she had trouble counting half notes initially and occasionally got her right hand confused with her left. I corrected her as I would anybody else, encouraged her to practice and sort of forgot she was Diego's wife.

Over the next few weeks, Cynthia made progress. She began to put her hands together and I taught her some notes, and simple ways to improv. I thought she had some promise if she stuck with it. I started to like her too, and looked forward to teaching her. She was nice, and would sometimes bring me a chai tea latte from the coffee shop where we first met, and oftentimes would find myself chatting with her about artwork and playing piano long after the lesson time was over. As a result, I stopped thinking of Diego sexually, and decided I really liked Cynthia. That it was better to have a friend in her than have a crush on Diego that would never go anywhere.