You're gonna do great!

“You’re gonna do great!” 

Those words ran through my mind more times than any song that has been stuck in my head. And as a pianist, I have had a lot of songs stuck before. Those words were the last words of encouragement I had heard from my best friend, Isabella. She would always be there at every performance of mine. I never really cared much about her words of encouragement. They never really worked. How would she know if I would do great? But after her accident… I came to despise those words more than anything. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

The clock that sat above my head ticked annoyingly as each second passed; one feeling longer than the former. I closed my eyes, sucking in a deep breath before opening them. I glanced at the wooden closed door that I was supposed to be walking through in a few minutes. But for some reason, I couldn’t help but fixate on it. I could imagine myself walking up to it, the sound of my heels being amplified in the hallway with the hardwood floors. My heart pounding against my chest as I lift my hand and grasp the cold, brass doorknob and twisting it. The door would then creak and slowly open. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

I quickly averted my gaze and stared straight ahead. It was a painting. It was abstract but the colors black and blue dominated the most. I couldn’t help but feel like the painting was projecting what I felt. I tried to look away but for some reason, my eyes stayed glued to it. The more I looked at it, the more uneasy it made me feel. After a point, I wasn’t sure if I was anxious because I was next in line, or if it was the painting. And the fact that it was really cold in the hallway, wasn’t helping. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

I took in a deep breath and once again, averted my eyes to something less intimidating. On the other side of the wall, a few inches down the line was a child who couldn’t have been older than 8. Unlike me, he didn’t seem to be bothered. In fact, he was playing a game on what I presume was his guardian’s phone, not appearing to be even a little anxious. I wondered how many times he had done this. You would expect someone like me, who has had years of experience just waiting for her turn, to be calmer than a boy who wasn’t even half her age. I was jealous. I looked away once again. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

I had to focus on me.

“You’re gonna do great!” 

The things around me seemed to be sparking negative emotions in me and I couldn’t afford to let myself be sucked into a bubble of insecurities. I had to rise above it. I knew my worth. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

I have done this before. I haven’t ever disappointed anyone before and today would not be the day that I change that. 

“You’re gonna do great!” 

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up! How could she know whether I was going to do great or not? She can’t predict the future. I could end up doing really bad. She can’t say that I am going to do great. She has no right of saying that… she had no right of saying that. 

Before I knew it, my shoulders dropped and I sunk into my seat. I averted my gaze to the floor, staring at the hardwood. The truth was that I hadn’t performed after her accident. I couldn’t find it in me to do it. And if it hadn’t been for my sister, I probably would have never looked at my piano again. I couldn’t help but feel like all of this was a mistake. Maybe I shouldn’t have come…

“You’re gonna do great!” 

But what if I don’t? I wouldn’t just be letting down my mother and my teacher, but my friend as well. I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing anyone, especially her. I had to do good. I wondered if she could see me right now. If she could hear me. I wonder what she would say to make me feel better.

“You’re gonna do great!” 

I was interrupted by footsteps approaching me. High heels clanked against the polished floors. I look up to find a girl no older than 15, walking timidly towards me before taking a seat on my side of the wall, a few inches down from the 8-year-old boy. She looked shy, not anxious. Shy and uncomfortable. I wonder if this was her first time coming here. 

She adjusted her dress a little while she sat in her seat. She pulled her hem before fixing her strap and pulling it up a little. As soon as she did that, she tugged on her hem once again. “Not into dresses?” I found myself asking. The girl jumped a bit with her eyes wide open. She then chuckled and relaxed a bit. 

“That obvious?”

“First time?”

“Believe it or not,” She said. “It isn’t,”

“You know, I never really liked dresses either until performing became normal,” I said. 

“Oh, for how long have you been a pianist?” She asked. 

“Ever since I can remember,” I replied with a smile.

The girl’s eyebrows raised, looking impressed. “I bet you aren’t nervous at all.” I laughed. 

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” I said, shaking my head. 

“Well, I am sure you’re going to do great.” She said with a smile, making me look at her. The girl had a gentle face and a sweet voice. She seemed genuine. 

“How do you know that?” I asked. “You know, I had a friend who used to say the same thing. I never understood how she could be so certain.”

Before she could answer, the brass doorknob turned and out walked a boy, followed by a woman wearing a formal suit and a little sheet of paper in her hand. 

“Celeste Morris?” She asked. I got up, my nerves suddenly back. The woman smiled. “Follow me,” 

~

I met the 15-year-old girl as I walked out of the room with a smile on my face.

“How did it go?” She asked once the eight-year-old boy went inside for his turn. 

“Really well. I could feel it as I was playing. They even had smiles on their faces once I was done.”

“See, I knew you’d do great!” She said with a smile, making me frown a little. 

“How?”

“Because you did. Because you always do. Why else would you still perform?” 

I didn’t realize that I was smiling at that point. 

“You’re right.” 

You were right Isabella. I did do great.