The Recital

A Short Story by Ashley C. Cantave

“¿Cómo te sientes?” I asked my Spanish partner. We had just started studying emotions in our Spanish class, and I was asking my partner how he felt.

To be honest, though, I didn’t really need to ask him how he felt because I could read by the look on his face that he wasn’t in a good place that day. And I knew it wasn’t because we were the only juniors in a class full of freshmen. A month had passed since the start of the fall semester, so I was sure we had both grown used to that.

He looked down at the worksheet on his desk, one that listed various emotions. “Um…yo soy triste,” he said glumly.

“Uh, I think you mean, ‘Yo estoy triste.’ If you say, ‘Yo soy triste,’ you make it sound like your name is ‘Triste.’”

“Whatever. Yo estoy triste, then.”

“¿Por qué estás triste?” I wondered.

“Um…you’re asking why I’m sad?”

“That’s right.”

He sighed. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“If you’re feeling something that’s making you sad, that’s not stupid. It must be something meaningful to you.”

He sighed again. “My girlfriend and I just broke up yesterday,” he said. “We had been dating since freshman year, but I guess she wanted space.”

“Yo lo siento,” I said, sincerely saddened by his news.

“Like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Es estúpido.”

“No lo es.” I wanted to say something comforting, but I had zero experience in the romance department. So, I wasn’t sure what words he most needed to hear. Instead, I waited for him to speak again.

“What sucks is that my friends had gotten so used to seeing us together,” he finally said. “We all used to hang out together. I don’t know what it’s going to be like now.”

I said nothing for a few seconds. Then I said, “You know, I can’t really understand what you’re going through because I’ve never dated anyone. But if you need someone to talk to who isn’t used to seeing you together, I’m available.”

He smiled a dim smile. “Gracias.”

I smiled back. “De nada.”

*****

He called me that evening. It was a pleasant surprise, and I found myself more excited when I saw his name on my phone than I thought I would be.

“Hey, Anthony,” I said when I answered.

“Hey, Leah,” he said. “Is this a good time for you to talk?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Cool.” He paused. “So, I’ve been thinking about something.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.”

“What?” I wondered.

“You said today that you’ve never dated anyone, right?”

“That’s right.”

“But, see, that doesn’t seem right. I mean, it doesn’t make sense to me.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. You seem cool. I don’t get why you’ve never dated anyone. Like, are you waiting for college to date or what?”

I smiled. “No. And I can’t explain the situation any better than to say that no guy has ever asked me out.”

“I don’t know if I believe that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

He waited a moment before continuing. “Well, when you think about it, you’re kind of lucky you haven’t ever been in a relationship.”

I was taken aback. “Lucky? You call that lucky? If so, your definition of ‘lucky’ must be different from mine.”

“No, I just mean…you can’t imagine how much pain I’m in now that Tina and I aren’t together. You’ve never experienced that kind of pain. I think that’s fortunate for you.”

“Maybe I haven’t known that particular pain, but the pain caused by unrequited love can be acute, too. And I’ve experienced plenty of that kind.”

“I hear what you’re saying. But until you’ve had a relationship with someone you really care about and then had it end, I don’t think you can fully understand how that pain is worse.”

“So, you’ve experienced unrequited love, Anthony?” I asked.

“Uh…well, I can’t say that I have,” he responded.

“Then how could you possibly know which is worse?”

For the next hour, Anthony and I debated whether the pain of unrequited love or the pain after a breakup was the more acute pain. He let me have the last word by reminding him of the adage that it’s better to have loved and lost and all that, assuming the adage is referring to love that was once reciprocal. But the truth was, it was hard for either of us to know which was worse when we had each only experienced one of those two kinds of pain.

Even so, I deeply enjoyed talking to Anthony. I was glad he didn’t call to chat about something boring or shallow. I was glad we were able to talk about something profound.

I would have been happy to talk to him about something shallow if that was all he could bring himself to do. But this way, our conversation was beneficial for both of us—he was able to talk to someone who didn’t know him as Tina’s boyfriend, and I enjoyed some stimulating conversation.

Over the next few weeks, Anthony started calling me pretty much every day. We also talked more in Spanish class—not as often using the Spanish language as we should have, but we did our best. And the more often we talked, the more I looked forward to our conversations—and the more I felt myself fall in love with him.

*****

One evening, after Anthony and I had spent some time discussing the likelihood of humans landing on Saturn, I heard him release a big sigh. “What was that sigh for?” I asked him.

“It’s nothing,” he said.

“That didn’t sound like a nothing sigh.”

“It’s just that I have this viola recital next Sunday and Tina was going to come support me. But I doubt she will now that we’re broken up.”

“But you still have other friends and family who’ll be there, right?”

“Nope. They’re all busy.”

“Even your parents?”

“Yeah. My mom is out of town taking care of a sick relative. And my dad has to work.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said.

“Yeah, me too.” He sighed that heavy sigh again. “I mean, it’s not a big deal for anyone to be there. It would just be nice, you know?”

“I know.” I thought for a second. “Would it help at all if I came?”

“What? Really? You would do that?”

“Yeah, I would. Where’s the recital?”

“In Owings Mills. Is that ok?”

“Uh, yeah. It should be. What’s the address?”

“I’ll give you the official invitation with all the details at school tomorrow.”

“Perfect.”

“Oh, man, this is great,” he said. “Thanks a lot for doing this, Leah.”

“No problem.”

I was thrilled to be able to support Anthony this way. Hopefully, he would start to see me as a potential girlfriend after this. Though he never openly expressed gratitude for the time we spent talking, I believed it was doing him some good. He didn’t look as sad now as he had that first week after his breakup. I hoped that meant he was ready to open his heart to someone new.

When I told my parents about the concert, I understood why Anthony had asked if it was ok that it was in Owings Mills. Not being a driver myself, I didn’t realize it was about a forty-five-minute drive away, and that was without traffic.

My parents would be too busy that Sunday to drive forty-five minutes both ways and stay for the concert. And since I didn’t want to impose on Anthony by asking him to drive me home afterward so my parents wouldn’t have to stay, I decided to take the bus. I might not have been willing to go so far for just anyone, but I would for him.

*****

It turned out that I had to take two buses to get to the venue, and even then I had to walk about ten minutes to make it all the way to the building. The entire trip took two and a half hours.

At least I had brought a good book to read, though sometimes it was hard to concentrate when the buses became overcrowded or when I had to listen carefully for my stop. Actually, I had to surrender my seat to an elderly man for the last half-hour of the second bus ride. But I made it.

Since I left my house at 3:45 pm, that meant I arrived at the venue just in time to greet Anthony and let him know I really had come before the recital officially began at 6:30 pm.

“I’m glad you came,” he said when he saw me. He looked so handsome wearing a suit, his black hair gelled down and his tan skin radiant.

“I told you I would,” I said.

“Thank you. I hope you enjoy the show.”

“I’m sure I will.”

I took a seat in the audience and waited for the show to begin. As I waited, the twenty or so viola students on the stage tuned their instruments. And then, at 6:30 pm exactly, the violas fell silent and the conductor walked across the stage as the audience applauded. After she bowed before the audience and the room was quiet again, she turned toward the viola players and signaled for them to begin.

The concert went on for an hour, and it was pleasant enough. Though I would have preferred to hear some variety in the instrument assembly, the viola students played their unique mix of classic and contemporary pieces well. And even though I couldn’t distinguish Anthony’s playing from that of the other violas, he was the star of the show to me.

Throughout the concert, I thought this was definitely worth the two-and-a-half-hour trip. Not only did I get to enjoy a free classical music concert—I had the privilege of supporting the boy I loved. I was even starting to forget how long I had waited for my second bus to come. None of the sacrifices I made to get here mattered now.

After the violas played their last note, the conductor again turned to the audience and we clapped. Then all the viola players rose and bowed while we kept clapping. Afterward, the conductor left the stage and the viola students followed her. And at least we audience members were allowed to rest our hands.

When Anthony re-emerged from the backstage area, I immediately went to meet him. But before I reached him, I heard him say, “I’m so happy you came” to someone. I looked to see who he was talking to, and it was a girl I had seen at our school.

“I wouldn’t have missed your big night,” I heard her tell him. Though I didn’t know her name, if I had to guess, I would say this was Tina. Anthony was looking at her as if she were someone special. And I knew, for him, that was Tina.

Now I wasn’t sure what to do. Anthony and Tina were staring at each other as if there weren’t anyone else in the room, even though people were swarming around them, congratulating other performers and trying to make their way out. I didn’t want to ruin the moment for them, but I had come all this way to support Anthony.

Should I tell him he did a great job now? Did he even remember I was here? How would it make Tina feel that another girl had come to support her ex-boyfriend on his big night?

I finally decided that the only thing to do was to leave them alone. I could tell Anthony he did great the next day at school. Even if the couple was no longer a couple, they deserved this moment alone together.

On the walk and bus rides home, I did a lot of thinking. Most notably, I came to the conclusion that this experience had not been worth the two-and-a-half-hour trip—correction, the two two-and-a-half-hour trips.

I had wasted something like six hours of my life supporting Anthony, and I had only gotten to see him briefly. Plus, I didn’t get to tell him anything that was in my heart. I would have to wait for another opportunity to do that, and I refused to go so far out of my way to do it this time.

Despite all the regret I was feeling, I tried to see the bright side of the situation. At least I got to sit for the entire ride home, though my book stayed untouched in my purse as I ruminated over the events of the day.

*****

I did congratulate Anthony the next day, and he said thank you for that. But he didn’t thank me for going such a long way to see him. True, he had thanked me for coming the night before, but he never acknowledged the distance I had traveled to get there. I guess it just slipped his mind.

Maybe he was thinking about how surprised he was to see his ex-girlfriend. That was understandable. I hoped he would remember to thank me a few days later, though. But he didn’t. And I decided not to make a big deal out of it. I had made the choice to go all that way to see him. He didn’t ask me, so he wasn’t obligated to thank me explicitly.

Something else weird happened as the days passed, though. Anthony and I were still talking in Spanish class, but he tended to steer our conversations more toward the Spanish lesson than before. He didn’t seem willing to discuss anything deep or off-topic. I found that a little strange, but I went along with it.

What concerned me the most was that Anthony wasn’t calling anymore. I waited for him to call for two weeks after the recital. When he didn’t, I became worried that something was wrong. So, I gave him a call.

“Hey, Leah,” he said when he answered.

“Hey,” I said. “We haven’t talked on the phone in a while, so I thought I would call you. Is this a bad time?”

“Uh, actually, Leah, the thing is…Tina and I are back together.”

I swallowed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, so, I don’t think we should talk on the phone so much anymore.” It took me a second to register what he was saying. “Leah?”

“Huh? Oh, right, of course. I agree. You should save your phone time for her.”

He didn’t respond right away, but then he said, “But, hey. I really enjoyed all our phone chats. You helped me out when I was in a bad place.”

“Glad to be of service,” I said as my throat began drying out. “But, yeah, I’m glad everything worked out. And I’ll see you in class.”

“Right. Bye.”

“Bye.” I hung up before my voice began quavering with tears.

It’s official. The pain of unrequited love is worse.

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Last updated: February 4, 2022