Chapter 31: Concession and Connections

The school’s theatre hall buzzed with murmurs and the roar of polite applause. Parents leaned forward on the rows of folding chairs before the well lit stage, craning in anticipation to see the next child on stage. 

The program had been running for more than an hour —piano, harp, a few tentative vocal solos, even a pair of ballet dancers and a rap performance. 

Backstage, Johnny gripped his violin, feeling disoriented. He was next.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” said Mrs. Cole, his British music teacher, “You’ve practiced beautifully, Johnny. You’ll be brilliant.”

Johnny managed a nod but didn’t reply. His eyes scanned the crowd through a crack in the curtain. No trace of his father in the audience and this dampened him, sapped him of enthusiasm.

Across town, Nat was nowhere near the event hall. He was in the conference room,  concluding on the a deal with PrimeCore, reaching a final resolution. 

“We've been able to secure the old airport concession. The proposal was approved by the mayor this morning.You can start building up there”

Purifoy Smith was more than impressed. The airport concession was more than he could ever ask for. He nodded and  licked his lips in delight talking to a few of his business partners and associates he came with for a while. 

“We'd take it,” he said in high spirits.

Nat was more than relieved. His top and most important restored and more money for the firm. The people of the Banks could now finally be free from the claws of a hungry, open-eyed greedy business man. 

They shook hands. 

“My legal team would get in talks with you” he said. 

“Back in business” Purifoy echoed. 

“Always a pleasure” his adrenaline surged. There was no greater feeling than accomplishment. 

Then a jolt of panic hit him. Johnny.

He glanced at his watch: 3:35 p.m. The program had started at two.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, shoving his notes into his briefcase.

As he bolted out of the building, he called Zara.

“Guess what, babe?” he said, breathless.

“What?”

“We won our top client back” 

“Wow. Congrats, babe.” She cradled a mug of tea in her hand wearing a cardigan that had the printed words: I love Philadelphia. She was happy for him even though she was vague about what exactly this client was and what deal they had settled. 

“Are you coming to watch Johnny play, or—”

“Oh, shit. I totally forgot.”

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll come pick you up. We’ll go together.”

Minutes later, they were on the highway,

Nat was speeding like a maniac, he almost hit a delivery truck. 

“Careful!” she creamed .

“I can’t miss it,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “He’s not going to talk to me again. Ever.”

Meanwhile, inside the hall, the announcer spoke into the microphone.

“Up next is a violin solo performance by Johnny Wolfe. Please give him a round of applause.”

Johnny stepped onto the stage, small and solemn under the bright lights. His shoes squeaked faintly on the polished wood.

He sat with his violin poised, and scanned the crowd again. Still, no father. His chest tightened. The applause faded to an expectant hush. He was blinded in the fog of his puzzling despair. 

From backstage, Mrs. Cole called gently, “Go on, Johnny,” and gave him a thumbs-up.

Johnny raised the bow but hesitated. The edges of his excitement dissolved into a heavy disappointment.

Then, from the back of the hall, the doors burst open.

“Daddy!” Johnny shrieked, too fast before he could stop himself.

Nat waved both arms as he strode down the aisle with Zara who looked shy. “Yeah! That’s my son! That’s my boy!”

The audience laughed loudly..

He straightened his back, closed his eyes and began to play.

The notes poured out with so much emotion. He played not just the piece but everything he had practiced in secret, everything he’d hoped his father would hear. The soft sound of strained strings filled the room.

Zara's eyes misted. She leaned closer to Nat, who had gone still, pride and guilt warring quietly across his face. She took his hand.

When the final note faded, the room erupted in applause.

He met Johnny at the edge of the stage, and scooped him into a hug.

“You were amazing,” he said, lifting him off the ground.

Johnny beamed. “Daddy,” he said, looking over his shoulder at Zara, “who is she?”

“She’s a friend,” “Zara, meet Johnny. Johnny, this is Zara.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” she said gently. “You played beautifully.”

Johnny’s shy smile returned.

“Now,” “how about some ice cream?”

The three of them ended up at a small park near the creamery. He ran off to the playground to race other kids under the late afternoon sun. The innocence of childhood. How easily his laughter erupted like the sprouting of fresh spring water from the depths, with his boisterous enthusiasm in the game. The children were pirouette and flourish, filigree and flame. Their golden retriever, Max, bounded after him, wagging his tail.

They sat on a bench, with melting cones in hand, watching him.

“He’s really handsome,”  she said.

“Thanks. Takes after his father.”

“I can see that.” 

“It’s hot,” she said after a moment.

“That’s because of you,” 

 “Oh, please .”

“I’m sorry if I ever made you feel bad. About… everything.  Nina isn't going to come after us again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Her expression softened. “Make peace with her, Nat. I don’t want surprises. I feel safe with you,” she admitted quietly, taking a deep breath. “Like a part of me fits with you.”

He turned to look at her fully. “The feeling’s mutual.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the distant sound of Johnny’s laughter carrying on the breeze.

“So when are we getting married?” Greg asked suddenly.

She blinked. “Excuse you?”

“You’re going to be my wife,” he said “you know this”

“What about Johnny?”

“He’ll accept you, not a big deal”. Susan raised an eyebrow. “And where exactly is this wedding supposed to be?”

“Fancy a beach wedding? Or a traditional church one? Or maybe the mountains — the view would be incredible.”

She shook her head, laughing. “Nat, please.”

But she was smiling.

Just then Johnny came running over, Max at his heels, holding something cupped in his small hands.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” he shouted, his grin was wide.

Greg bent down. “What is it?”

Johnny opened his hands to reveal a tiny green frog, blinking up at them. They both burst into laughter.

On the bench, he pulled her close, watching Johnny run back to the playground with Max. For a moment, the world seemed simple: his son’s laughter, Zara's hand in his, the smell of cut grass and ice cream. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, he was here.

And Johnny was playing again.