"You finished both pieces," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"Then you've done your part. Eat something real if you can. The banana looked like a negotiation."
"It was," Nia said, and surprised herself by almost laughing.
"Bus pass still good?"
"Yes."
"Go home. Tell your aunt the truth, whatever it is. Decisions take a couple of weeks. That wait is awful. It is also normal. Being awful and normal at the same time is most of this business."
Nia hesitated. The question had been in her mouth since the prelude's first corrected note. "Did you know my mother? Denise Cole. She said a man at this building helped her with an elevator once. She said he swallowed a sentence. I don't know if that was you. There are a lot of men."
Mr. Carter was quiet long enough that the volunteer with the lanyard found something urgent to do with a stack of folders. "I knew her name," he said carefully. "I was here when she auditioned, years ago. I helped with the elevator. The sentence is a longer conversation, and today is not the right day for it. If you come back here to study, I will tell you the truth. Not a fairy tale. The truth. Can you live with that delay?"