“Rude.”
They laughed.
Then Lucia said:
“Do you know what I remember?”
“What?”
“Pulling out the bench.”
Naomi looked at her.
Lucia continued.
“I was so angry at Karen that I wanted the reveal.”
Naomi understood.
“You wanted her to see who I was.”
“Yes.”
Lucia looked embarrassed.
“I thought I was defending you.”
“You were.”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
Lucia sighed.
“I made your status the argument.”
There.
Naomi had thought about that too.
Lucia continued.
“I could have said, ‘She’s authorized to be here.’”
“Instead I said, ‘She’s the soloist.’”
“Like your importance was why Karen had to back off.”
Naomi smiled.
“I did enjoy it.”
“You were twelve.”
“I enjoy it a little now.”
Lucia laughed.
“Fair.”
Naomi touched the harp frame.
“The bench mattered though.”
“How?”
“You didn’t just tell her I belonged.”
“You made space.”
Lucia looked at her.
Naomi continued.
“You pulled it out.”
“Put it where it needed to be.”
“Told me to sit.”
“That part I remember.”
Lucia smiled.
“Good.”
The anniversary concert included student performers.
Not Naomi.
She preferred listening.
One harpist was Tasha Green.
No longer ten.
Now twenty-five.
Professional freelancer.
Teacher.
Terrible posture corrected years ago.
Tasha performed a contemporary work.
Beautiful.
Afterward she found Naomi.
“You cried.”
“No.”
“I saw.”
“Stage lights.”
“You were in the audience.”
“Very bright.”
Tasha laughed.
Then:
“Do you remember my first lesson?”
“Yes.”
“You almost told me not to touch the harp.”
Naomi closed her eyes.
“You remember that?”
“Of course.”
“I stopped.”
“Barely.”
They laughed.
Tasha continued.
“You apologized before I even knew why.”
Naomi nodded.
“Old story.”
“You never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because your lesson was not about me.”
Tasha smiled.
Good.
At fifty-three, Naomi became executive director of the Instrument Access Collaborative.
The irony of becoming mostly administrator amused everyone except Naomi.
She spent more time in budget meetings than at harps.
Still.
She could influence access more effectively there.
Under her tenure, the Collaborative placed full-size harps in six public schools through shared regional agreements.
Not one per school.
Too expensive.
Rotating residencies.
Transport teams.
Teacher partnerships.
Students did not have to own an instrument before discovering whether they liked it.
That mattered.
Some children tried harp and hated it.
Also mattered.
Access did not exist only to uncover future stars.
At one donor dinner, a man asked:
“How many professional harpists has your program produced?”
Naomi answered:
“Not enough to justify the budget if that’s the only outcome you value.”
He looked shocked.
The table went quiet.
Naomi continued.
“We’ve produced teachers.”
“Nurses who still play.”
“Engineers.”
“Parents.”
“Students who learned music for three years and quit.”
“Children who touched a harp once and decided cello was better.”
The donor frowned.