Never Got Over You -Whitney G. Page 0,6

aside a few mementos from my life as ‘James’—old watches, a stuffed cello, and pictures, and saw the ‘Kate box’.

It wasn’t really blue and white as Shannon’s memo said. It was a simple cardboard box and it was full of painful reminders that I could still remember like it was yesterday. Our pictures, our postcards, our memories. All ruined by her broken promise, her betrayal.

“I’ll wait for you, James. No matter how long it takes...”

I rolled my eyes at her lies and picked up the box. I carried it across the condo and into the kitchen, finally throwing it deep into the trash where it belonged.

There. It was official. Kate no longer had an effect on me.

I helped myself to a few more beers, read through more annoying emails, sent a few “You’re fired” messages to some people I no longer liked, and then I made it to my bed.

I managed to sleep for about four hours before I woke up and returned to the kitchen. I took the Kate box out of the trash and returned it to the bottom of its drawer.

“It’s not just Halloween...” I said to myself, sighing. “It’s the night we first met.”

...

Kate

~ October 31, 2008 ~

“AND ONE ... TWO ... one, two, three, four ...”

I drew my bow against the strings of a cello, letting out a deep breath as the first note of Mozart’s Lacrimosa reverberated through the concert hall.

As the conductor moved his hands, the notes flew from my strings and into the air―suspending me in a different reality. In that version of my life, I hadn’t just caught my best friend since childhood fucking my boyfriend days before my recital, I actually liked my parents, and I only played music when I felt like it. There were no fake friends who consistently lied to me, no inheritance being held over my head whenever I “stepped out of line,” and most of all, there was absolute freedom.

As I neared the coda and watched the notes on the page come to an end, the real world slowly returned, and the dream of a different life disappeared. The lights in the amphitheater brightened, and a roaring round of applause filled the room.

“Encore! Encore!” calls came from the balcony and the house seats, and within seconds, the cheers transitioned into a standing ovation.

I stood to my feet and took a bow, wishing I could feel proud of this moment―like this was actually my dream. Like being known as one of the country’s most talented cellists was an honor. Yet, after fifteen years of grueling training under the best teachers, all I felt was hatred and obligation.

“Isn’t Miss Kensington an amazing talent?” The director smiled and motioned for me to exit the stage once he took the mic. “We’re beyond honored to have her here with us this evening.”

I walked backstage, keeping my fake smile intact as I strolled over to my parents.

“Wonderful, darling. Just wonderful,” my mother said, handing me a bouquet of white roses.

“That’s the best I’ve ever heard you play.” My father smiled. “And trust me, that’s saying something. You’re starting to outdo yourself every time, becoming a young phenom in the making.”

“Nah, you were way better last week.” My younger sister, Sarah Kay, smiled. “Just my opinion, though. I heard two off notes.”

I laughed, but our mother shot her a cold look. Her stone-grey eyes said it all.

Stop playing around. We’re in public right now.

There were other people watching us, privately listening to our every word. As ‘The Kensington Family’―practically royalty on the south shore of Lake Tahoe―she always demanded that we behave perfectly whenever others were around.

I posed for a few press pictures, said ‘Thank you so much’ to everyone who offered me a compliment, and kept my smile firmly in place for hours.

It wasn’t until we left the concert hall and settled into the seats of our father’s private plane, that I finally let my guard down. Yet again, for the umpteenth time in my life, I was tempted to beg them to leave me here and fly home without me.

Just one more year, Kate. One more year...

Before I could whisper to Sarah Kay and tell her that she was right about my performance, that I’d played two soft C sharps where I shouldn’t have, my mother walked over to us.

“Great news, Kate.” She sipped her wine. “The recruiting director from Juilliard was in the audience tonight. He just sent me an email that said he absolutely regrets not accepting