First Chair

Trigger Warnings: Manipulation, harsh language.

Nick shouldn’t have been watching, but Lydia always had that effect on him. She was the type of woman that made people stumble during performances… or made liars of married men.

The rims of her eyes were red. Could just be allergies; it didn’t mean anything. The position was hers. No one else played the violin like her. She leaned into each note and teared up every opening night—she had more soul than anyone else in the entire orchestra. Certainly more than he did, anyway.

The conductor shook hands with the blonde chick that stood next to her. Samantha might have been her name. Not that it mattered—she had a stick up her ass. She had never even spoken to Nick or anyone outside the strings section. What mattered was that it wasn’t Lydia’s hand the conductor was shaking.

Then he saw it. Even from across the stage. No one else noticed; everyone was too busy packing up their instruments. But he did. He always saw her. Her eyes sparkled under the warm light, with tears threatening to fall from them. Damn, she was pretty even when she cried.

“Beers later to celebrate?” Jason asked while cleaning his spit valve with his T-shirt.

Nick’s nose wrinkled. He would have to remember not to hug him later when they were drunk off their asses. Except, something was off. He didn’t feel like going to the bar. Didn’t even feel like celebrating. His fingers drummed against his trumpet, the ring on his finger clinking with each pass. “I don’t get why he does that.”

“Huh?” Jason said.

“The conductor. He makes the season chair positions a spectacle. It’s annoying. Any other city orchestra does bulletins you can read on your own time.”

“What’s the big deal? You never cared before. Besides, you have first seat. Shouldn’t you be basking in glory or some shit like?”

Nick shrugged. He had been few minutes ago. He hadn’t even practiced much for the position. The trumpet wasn’t like the violin—just blow some hot gas and push some buttons. He wasn’t that good. He practiced, sure. But he didn’t live in it, not like she did. Not that he was complaining—he sure as hell needed the raise.

But so did Lydia.

And she actually worked for it. Deserved it.

“So… beers after, right?” Jason asked.

He glanced over at Jason, who was leaning over his trumpet with a dumb frown on his face and big puppy eyes.

“Yeah sure,” Nick droned.

Jason stuffed his trumpet into his case with little care. When he sat up, his eyes widened. “Dude… Lydia’s coming over here.”

Nick’s head snapped forward. There she was. Her head dipped low, an arm slung across her midsection as if keeping her insides from falling out. Her eyes were dry, but the redness hadn’t gone away. His heart did a little flip in his chest. It almost never did that anymore.

She paused as she reached the brass section seating and tilted her head up. Her smile was small and forced.

“Hey,” she said, her voice like a broken violin string. “Did the conductor get to your section yet?”

Nick’s mouth twitched. “Yeah… he did.”

Her lower lip trembled, and he had to look away.

“You get the first chair?” she asked, “I know you were looking for the raise.”

His mouth opened, then slammed back closed. How was he supposed to tell her he got principal trumpet when she had busted her ass for years trying to earn it. This year, she was so sure. He was too. Brittney, Samantha, whatever—the blonde one with the stick up her ass. She wasn’t nearly as talented as Lydia was.

“I… No, I didn’t get it,” Nick lied.

Jason shot him a questioning look. “What? No, you—”

Nick rammed his knee against Jason’s, cutting him off before the last couple of words could leak out and blow his little lie. He loved Jason and all… but the dude was sometimes a complete idiot.

“That was a mix up,” Nick said. “The conductor always gets us two confused for some reason. Just in case it wasn’t clear, you got the first chair position, Jason.”

Luckily for Nick, Jason was his best friend for a reason. Jason blinked as if that brain of his was resetting, then he caught on and nodded. “Right. Shit. Silly me. Just hard to believe, you know.”

Lydia’s head cocked to the side, and she raised a single brow ever so slightly. “You Jason? I didn’t realize…” She paused and shook her head. “Sorry, I meant congratulations.”

Jason’s smile had far too many teeth. “Yeah thanks. It was… unexpected.”

“Anyhow, I umm… Should get home to practice some more.”

He wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was the lull in her voice, or the way she immediately glanced away from Jason, but it made Nick snap out of his seat.

“Wait,” he said.

Those big brown eyes of hers stared at him as if he could somehow fix everything. And he wished to hell he could. At least though with this stupid lie he was on even ground with her. He couldn’t stand the idea of her not being able to meet his eyes like she couldn’t with Jason now.

“I umm…” He wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to say. He wanted to make her feel better. “Fuck them. You’re great. You should have been given first chair.”

Her smile didn’t meet her eyes. At least she tried. “Thanks.”

Then she turned, and that fake smile collapsed.

“The fuck dude,” Jason said once Lydia was out of earshot.

Nick collapsed back into the chair and hung his head between his shoulders. “Congrats on your promotion.”

“What are you going to tell the conductor?”

“I don’t know… think he’ll give you the part if I accidentally break one of my hands?”

“Jesus dude. You’re joking right?”

Was he? He couldn’t let Lydia know he had lied. He would rather deal with a broken hand than see him… as a liar. That wasn’t him. He did this for her.

“I don’t know… Maybe?”

“And what exactly are you going to tell your wife?” Jason asked.

Nick blinked. The ring on his finger suddenly felt heavy.

Fuck. That’s right. His wife. He had already sent her the news like a dumbass. She was expecting a raise. They needed the extra cash. She wouldn’t take any excuses for his stepping down. He was fucked. Big time.

“I’ll tell her it was a mix up,” Nick said, then added. “And your discretion will be payment for that shiny new chair you get.”

Jason shook his head. “I love you man, but you’ve got problems.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong. Just gave my seat to my best friend.”

“You think that’s all you did?”

Sure, it was. Technically. It wasn’t as if he were cheating. He was a good person, a good man. Jason was just being dumb again. The tiny detail of trying to preserve Lydia’s heart? That was nothing. His wife would just overthink it. She was always overthinking things—his two phones, the ever-changing passcodes. It would be better if she didn’t know.

He shoved his trumpet into the case and left the auditorium, still convinced he was a good man. Or at least that’s what he told himself before the rot fully leaked through.