“I’m so sorry,” he said quietly.
There was a knock at the door. Mrs. Patterson stood in the doorway looking like she’d rather be anywhere else.
“You asked me to come, Mr. Rodriguez.”
“Yes, please come in. I think it would be good for you to hear this as well.”
Mrs. Patterson entered stiffly and stood near the wall, her arms crossed. She wouldn’t look at Lily.
Mr. Rodriguez turned back to Lily.
“Would you feel comfortable telling me more about your mother? Only if you want to.”
Lily took a shaky breath. She hadn’t talked about her mom to anyone at this school. Hadn’t talked about her much at all since it happened. But something about Mr. Rodriguez’s kind eyes made her feel like maybe it was okay.
“She was a concert pianist,” Lily began, her voice barely above a whisper. “She played in big halls with orchestras. People came from all over to hear her.”
“That’s incredible,” Mr. Rodriguez said.
“She started teaching me when I was three. Every day after breakfast, we’d sit at the piano together. She’d put my fingers on the keys and show me how to curve them just right. Like I was holding an egg, she’d say. Gentle but firm.”