Opus One

Chapter 30: Recitative and Aria

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Sandra took another drink of water as Mr. Menlos reprimanded another hapless student for not cueing her in during the aria.  After forgetting Mr. Menlos’s instructions about being strict to the conductor’s indications, Sandra had finally started being particular about following all cues.  She would enter incorrectly when given the wrong beat, and not enter at all when the cue was missed.  Between that, and the thrill of singing with an orchestra for the first time, she was enjoying herself immensely.

“Okay, okay.  Dismissed,” Mr. Menlos said, as he came up to the podium. 

He took Sandra’s hand regally, and faced the musicians. 

“A hand for our soloist today…”

The orchestra stamped their feet.

“You sing beautifully,” Mr. Menlos said sincerely.  “Thank you.”

Sandra nodded with a smile.

Mr. Menlos grinned back.  Sandra wasn’t sure she liked the puckish quality she saw in his eyes.

“However, you are also in this class.  We still have ten minutes…  I think you should have a try at conducting the recitative.”

Sandra just looked at him blankly.  “Who’s going to sing?”

“Why… me!” Mr. Menlos sang in falsetto.  The orchestra erupted in laughter.

He held out a silencing hand.  “No, no.  You will, of course.”

“Me?”

“Yes.  You should know it well enough by now.  You’ve only been put through it fifty times in the past two hours!”

“While I conduct?”

“What’s wrong with that?  You don’t sing with your hands…  Unless you are Italian!”

Sandra looked at the grinning orchestra.  “Well, I don’t have a baton,” she said lamely.

Mr. Menlos looked around, and quickly acquired one from a nearby violinist.  “All right, that’s solved, then.  Go ahead.”

He walked to his usual corner, and waited expectantly as Sandra turned to the score. 

I should have practiced this a little more…  She hadn’t expected to conduct, since she was going to be singing.

She raised her hands, and the orchestra responded by readying their instruments.  She gave the first beat, and then held her hands still as the violins played their long note.  She sang the first line of the recitative over them, as she had so many times that day.  So far so good…

Then things got complicated.  She had to cut off the held note, while singing, and then give an empty beat to cue the two punctuating chords that immediately followed her last word.

It didn’t quite go as planned.  She rushed the beat as she sang, and the chords were ragged, as the musicians were unclear of her pulse.  She had also moved left, instead of right, her perennial downfall.

She tapped her borrowed baton on the music stand, and stopped them.

“Sorry…  This is hard.”

A few people laughed, and nodded in agreement.

She tried again.  This time, she relaxed as she approached the cadence, and gave the proper beat.  The chords happened correctly.  There was no resting on the success, though, since immediately there followed another few syllables of singing, a one chord interjection by the orchestra, and another line of text, again ending in more orchestral punctuations and a last pianissimo whole note.  Everything needed to be cued with the proper blank beats as pickups, and she had to remain still the rest of the time. 

On top of that she had to sing.  She felt like she was juggling with small birds.

Her eyes shot back and forth on the page.  She found herself reading the text when she sang. 

Why the hell am I doing that?  She reprimanded herself for wasting time reading words she already knew.  I need to focus on the orchestral entrances, not reading lines of text like an idiot.

Things fell apart again after a few phrases.  

“Hear the music, before you start,” Mr. Menlos said, as he seemed to say every single time she was up there. 

Sandra cleared her head.  She listened to her own internal orchestra, feeling how each chord contributed to the music.

She held her hands up to try again, and then lowered them.

“Do I have to use this?” she asked, pointing to the score.

Mr. Menlos laughed.  “I don’t know.  Do you?”

Sandra closed the music petulantly and made a shooing motion at it with her free hand.  It was just taking up her attention, when she should really just be conducting the music she heard inside of her.  She knew where the orchestra had its punctuations, having sung it enough times. 

Separating her mind into two channels, she sang the recitative while she concentrated on giving the orchestra the right beats.  It quickly fell into place, as she finally found the rhythm of giving the proper beat before each entrance.  A few times she knew she had moved her hand the wrong direction, but she always made sure to give impetus to her movements, so they at least knew she was indicating the pickup beat.  Some of the players followed, and some didn’t, but it was enough to keep things moving forward.

Like magic, the recitative played out, with only minor errors.  A few times she looked at the violas, only to have the cellos come in instead.  She just winced apologetically, and sung on.

When the recitative ended, she held still for a moment, and then gave the upbeat for the aria.

“Stop!” Mr. Menlos called out, right before the orchestra started the accompaniment. 

Everyone let out the breaths they had taken for the loud entrance.  Then they loudly stamped their feet in appreciation of her performance, and Sandra was slightly taken aback.

“That was very good,” Mr. Menlos said, applauding.  “It obviously helps to have sung the music a few times beforehand.  Remember, you actually do have to give the right beat, especially in something like a recitative.  If you give a two instead of a three, most of the orchestra will wait one more beat to come in.  They don’t know what everyone else is doing, especially in a situation like this where they haven’t been rehearsing this piece for weeks.  There’s no reason to expect them to follow your mistakes.”

Sandra nodded, only partially registering his words.  I did it…!

“Having said that, you did excellent.  It’s hard enough to conduct a recitative as it is, and you were singing, on top of it.  Really.  Excellent.”  He looked at her for a moment, nodding. 

“All right, dismissed,” he called out at last.  “Everyone.  See you next week for the Tchaik.”

Sandra gave back her borrowed baton, feeling slightly elated at Mr. Menlos’s words, and at the compliments she got from a couple of the musicians as they packed up.

Mr. Menlos met her by her seat as she shouldered her bag.

“That was really well done.  You are still confusing your left and right, for some reason, but… that will come.  Just beat out the patterns all the time.  While you eat, while you sleep…  it will become second nature.  How did it feel?”

“It was actually kind of fun.”

“Good.  You still look very tense up there.  I can tell you know how the music goes, but you are still reacting to it.  Try to loosen up, and feel the music ahead of time.  You had that going a little there, but I know you can do it more.”

“I hear the music easily, but I still get caught up wondering how to move my arm.”

“I know.  Just keep practicing.  You have some talent at this.  I mean, look how much you’ve progressed in the last month and a half.”

She nodded.  “I am glad I stayed in the class.  It was a nice feeling to get to the end of the recitative in one piece.”

Mr. Menlos nodded.  “Conducting can be the most intense experience of your life.”

“Well, I’m nowhere near that, yet,” Sandra said, laughing a little.

Mr. Menlos smiled.  “I’ll see you next week.”

Sandra nodded as he turned and left.

She found she was walking with a little bounce in her step as she went to find Richard in the practice rooms.

The week before spring break flew by in a flash.  Studying for midterms occupied the trio’s thoughts.  They were borne forward by the coming trip to New York, and the excitement of having secured a house for next year, the day Arlene had left. 

Then the first half of spring break passed in a blur of practicing, both to catch up on what they had missed during midterms and what they would miss while in New York. 

 On the Wednesday of break, Sandra came into Richard’s practice room to take a breather.  With most of the school away, Richard had taken over one of the large piano rooms that normally was occupied by the girls of the piano mafia.  He was surprised they had left for the week, but he wasn’t complaining.

“What’s up, housemate?” she asked, rubbing Richard’s shoulders.

“I like the sound of that.”

“Will we be able to fill that place up?”

“Who cares!  It’s going to be a palace after the dorm room.”

“Yeah.  It’s kind of hard to believe it’s happening.  I know we were technically on our own this year, but this feels different.”

“I know,” Richard agreed.  “No Joey to prowl the halls.”

“Or peep on us.”

“He better not!”

“I don’t even want to think about that.”

“I finally told my parents today,” Richard said.

Sandra turned to him with interest.  “What did they say?”

“They were fine, in the end.  I think if I was moving in with just one of you, it would have been a much tougher sell.”  Richard sniffed.  “It’s weird: One girl, no.  Two girls, okay.”

“Yeah, but if they knew what was really going on?”

Richard laughed.  “Yeah, then it would have been a definite no.”

“This relationship does have its unique advantages,” Sandra agreed.

“True.”

“Are we still leaving at nine tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, if I get up early enough to get the rental car by then.”

“We’ll be up.  I still haven’t packed at all.  I don’t know what to wear to the ballet.”

“How about the dresses I got you?”

“We’re wearing those on Friday night at the Met, of course.”

“Wear them again.”

Sandra gave him an offended look.

“Or not…” he added.  “It is a different theatre…  Okay, bad idea.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Sandra said, implying that he would not be helping decide the clothing selections.

“I guess I should ask you if we’ll be leaving by nine!”

Sandra swatted him.  “We’ll be ready.”

Richard grinned.  “It’s going to be fun.”

“I’m getting really excited.  I mean, I’ve only been to the Met once!  I can’t wait…  I feel delinquent, though.”

“Why?”

“I hardly know anything about the opera.  I keep wanting to go to the library and listen to it, but you know how things are.”

“You can enjoy it there for the first time.  It’s a dark opera.  Probably we won’t be walking out singing any of it…  But since you’re into all that late Romantic music lately, I thought you would enjoy it.”

Sandra nodded.  “I’d pay to go watch stagehands cleaning up the floor, at the Met.  I’m just thrilled to be going.”

“William invited us to stay at his place after the opera, if we wanted.”

“Whatever.  I just want to be with you and Emily.  We can sleep in the plaza for all I care.”

“Then I’ll tell him it’s a go.  Elektra is not all that long, but it will still be nice to hang out and relax nearby instead of driving home both nights.”

Sandra shrugged.  “Like I said, whatever you want.”

“You’re so easy to please,” Richard said.

Sandra draped her body over his back.  “Yes, my love.  Mmm, I wish we could just snap our fingers and be at the Met…”

Sandra looked out over the audience below and at the giant curtain.  She smiled warmly.  It was even grander than she remembered.  The pointy chandeliers that were hanging before their eyes now were ascending towards the ceiling as the house began to prepare for the start of the opera. 

The seats in the Grand Tier that William had gotten were incredible.  Sandra had seen Richard arguing with William when Emily, Arlene and she were returning from the restroom.  When Sandra had asked about it, Richard had whispered back that William was being difficult about letting Richard cover the cost of his three tickets.  Apparently, Richard was going to have a large chunk of his editing check still left after the trip.

Sandra took in all the details as the orchestra tuned and then quieted.  Movement in the pit quickly led to applause as the conductor walked out, and bowed.

Sandra found herself watching him intently as he gave a strong cue and the orchestra responded with the dramatic three note opening theme.  The curtain opened immediately, and the servants began singing the first scene.

So much for an overture!

Sandra wished she had extra sets of eyes.  At first, she was immediately following the action on stage.  She found she could understand some of the German text, but also found herself needing to rely on the supertitles to follow the story. 

But as the first scene progressed, she found herself more and more drawn to the conducting.   The music was complex and challenging to listen to, as Richard had promised.  It looked even more difficult to conduct.  The orchestra was constantly switching gears as the singers traded rapidly sung lines back and forth.  Dynamics were constantly changing, and Sandra found it riveting.  The conductor made it look easy.

As the first scene whipped off the stage, she heard the faintest of whispers from Richard.

“Don’t forget to breathe.”

Sandra realized she was sitting up towards the edge of her seat, her body tense.  She smiled at him, and relaxed a little as the title character came out onto the stage.

For the next ten minutes she was captivated by the soprano’s voice as she sang powerfully through her solo scene.  The edgy way in which she sang, and the dramatic music that accompanied her took Sandra by surprise.  She knew from the story that the opera dealt with some dark themes, but she hadn’t expected the music to be so visceral.  After listening to the frantic interjections that accompanied the servants’ scene, the richer orchestration that accompanied Elektra’s singing made her tingle.

Why have I never listened to this opera before?

She found herself constantly wishing to rewind, as things happened too quickly.  She couldn’t follow the supertitles, acting, singing and conducting all at once.

Richard squeezed her hand, and again she found that she was on the edge of her seat.

“Orest!”

With a final few minutes of insanity, the opera came to a close.  As soon as the orchestra gave the final two stabs, the house erupted in applause and loud calls of ‘Bravo!’

Sandra sat in her seat taking in the roar, and still reeling from the intense experience of the past hour and a half.

“Are you okay?” Richard asked her, as he clapped loudly.

Sandra nodded, and then she began to applaud as well. 

“That was unbelievable.  She’s amazing… And this opera… Why did you never have me listen to it?” she asked Richard.

“Me?”

“You said you’ve seen it twice.  You never said it was incredible.”

“Well…  There are a lot of good operas,” Richard said, shrugging.  “One at a time, I guess?”

Sandra smiled, as the crowd cheered the singers that were now making their appearances in front of the curtain.

Someday I want to be a part of this.  Even if I’m not singing…

About ten minutes later, they were making their way down the carpeted corkscrew staircase.  Arlene walked arm and arm with William, and Sandra and Emily did the same with Richard as they followed behind them.

“I thought there’d be more people in nicer clothes,” Emily said, looking around.

Richard shrugged.  “Used to be.  Every year it seems to get a little more casual.  When I was a kid, my dad used to make me wear a three piece suit when we went to the opera.  I wasn’t even allowed to loosen my tie!”

Sandra looked at his neck.  “Old habits die hard.”

“Yeah, well… but I am only wearing a two-piece suit.”

“Ooh, we’re telling your dad!”

Richard laughed.  “Nah.  Even he loosened up as I got older.  I never came in anything like that,” Richard said, pointing, “but the last few years I did come in just a button down shirt and slacks.”

“I’m glad we dressed up.  We do look good, if I may say so,” Emily said. 

“I’ll have to agree with that,” Richard said.  “I’m the envy of every guy in here right now.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Most of the people in here are pretty old.  They’re probably more envious of William, to tell the truth,” Sandra said.

Richard sniggered.  “You’re probably right.”

William went over to the railing that overlooked the main entrance of the opera house, and leaned against it with Arlene.  Richard smiled, and pulled the girls over to the rail to join them.

“That was a romantic opera,” Arlene said jokingly.

“Richard chose it,” William said mischievously. 

“I liked it,” Sandra announced.

Arlene smiled.  “I did too, but I’d probably not go again anytime soon.  Too… crazy.  Too intense.  I like happier stories.”

“I guess we won’t be seeing you tomorrow night then,” Richard said, with chuckle.

“Well, another night, another great show,” William said in a satisfied voice.

“Just like old times,” Richard agreed.

 “Did you two used to go to a lot of concerts together?” Emily asked him and William.

“No, not at all.  I almost always went with my dad.”

“We saw each other a bunch of times, but we probably only came here together once or twice,” William said.

“So how many operas have you been to here?” Arlene asked Richard.

“I have no idea…  Fifty.  No, probably more.  Eighty?”

“You lucky man…” Sandra said, shaking her head.

“What can I say?  My dad took me when I was eight, and never stopped.  I lived in Lincoln Center during high school.”

“And I still do,” William said.

“Isn’t it expensive?” Sandra asked.

“Yeah.  But eventually I started sitting at the score desk to follow the music,” Richard said.  “That only runs about ten bucks.”

“Score desk?”

“On the top level in the theatre, along the side balconies, they have desks with lights where you can follow the score.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.  About seven or eight on each side.”

“Can you see the stage, too?”

“No…  Well, if there’s no one sitting next to you, you can lean over, and see a little.  It’s a terrible angle, though.  My dad usually sat in that seat, and he didn’t mind, but…”

Sandra looked off into the distance with a smile.  “That sounds like such fun.”

“It was.  For a new opera, we’d sit in Family Circle to watch the staging, but for the ones I’d seen before, it was more fun to follow the music.”

William leaned over.  “I never really understood that,” he said.  “You can follow the music at your house.”

“Yeah, but you don’t ever do it.  When’s the last time you took two, three, four hours and just sat and followed the music to an opera in your apartment?” Richard asked.

“A few days ago.”

Richard made a face.  “Well, you don’t count, being retired!  I know I’ve never done it outside of this theater.”

“What about you, William?” Emily asked.  “How many have you been to?”

William laughed.  “Now we really enter unknown territory.  Let’s see.  I’ve lived in New York my whole life.  I try to see every opera they show each season at least once.  You do the math.”

“God, William.  Hundreds…” Sandra said, her face amazed.

He pretended to look hurt.  “Hundreds!  How old do you think I am?” he cried.

Sandra laughed, unfazed.  “Sorry, you’re right.  Thousands…!”

William guffawed.  “Thank you, Sandra.  I needed that!”

“That’s amazing.  I’ve been here only once before, to see Rigoletto with my dad.  We sat in the fourth row.”

William whistled.  “Nice way to go to the Met your first time.  Must have spoiled it for tonight.”

“No.  Tonight was even better.  The sound was awesome.  Thanks, William, for getting us the tickets.”

William nodded as he smiled warmly back at her.

Richard looked through the large windows that made up the façade of the building.

“After every act, me and my dad would come stand right along here and look out at the people.  Just like we are now.”

William nodded in agreement. 

“Why didn’t you have him come out tonight?” Sandra asked.

“This is our night,” Richard said. 

“He could have come.”

He sighed.  “He doesn’t really go to the opera much anymore.  I asked him this morning what he’d been to see recently, and he said he saw Falstaff in December and that’s it for this season.”

“Wow.  He’s only been once?”

“Yeah.  And a couple of concerts at the Avery…  Three events all year.  Weird, considering we used do one or two a week.”

“Why has he stopped?”

“I don’t know…  He is getting older.  Last year, he had trouble staying awake, especially for the longer operas.  Plus, it costs money.”

“And, you’re not around,” Emily said quietly.

Richard nodded, suddenly feeling his throat tighten.  “All right, let’s go outside and get some air.  What are we doing next?”

“There’s a new wine bar a few blocks away,” William suggested, immediately lifting the mood.

“Great!” Emily said, grinning.

“Sounds like someone likes wine!”

Everyone laughed, and then they walked down the grand staircase.

William opened the door to his apartment, and stood aside to let his guests in.  Moods were spirited after the hour or so spent eating cheese and drinking wine at the restaurant William had recommended.

“Wow!  Nice place, William,” Sandra said, looking around at his pad.

“Thank you, dear.”

She left her small bag of overnight needs by the door and went over to the grand piano.   She fingered a few chords.  Then she played the opening three note theme from Elektra.

“Sing it!” William cried out.

“Orest!” Sandra sang, imitating the final words of the opera.  She was in the wrong key, though, and it came out much too high.

Everyone laughed.

William had soon collected drink orders and was busy pouring out wine and scotch.  Sandra and Emily wandered around, looking at the autographed photographs of musicians and dancers that hung throughout the large room.

“Nice collection of pictures,” Emily said to William, when they had all finally gathered on the two plush couches.

“Thank you.”

“I love seeing pictures like these, where they are in action,” Sandra said.  “You can see so much of the artistry in them.”

“Yes!” William said, excited.  “I almost only collect pictures of the artists playing or conducting, or dancing.  Portraits never did much for me.”

“Me neither,” Sandra agreed.

“There are many more throughout the house,” William said.

“We may have to take a tour,” Sandra said. 

“Do you have one of my dad?” Emily asked.

“I don’t know.  Who is your dad?”

Emily looked at Richard for a moment, before speaking.

“Clark Rathbourne.”

“Really?” William asked, turning to her.

“Yes.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Richard never mentioned it, I take it.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who he is,” Arlene said sheepishly.

“He conducts the Baltimore Symphony,” William answered first.

“Oh.  Wow.”

“Now we know where you get your musicality from,” he said to Emily.

“Pfft.  You haven’t heard me play.”

William laughed.  “True.  Speaking of which, I hear there’s a great recital coming up in April…”

He looked at the trio expectantly. 

Emily and Sandra at once turned raised brows to Richard, who was sitting in between them.

Richard coughed loudly.  “Where’s the bathroom again, William?” he asked, making to stand up.

The girls pulled him back down. 

“I thought you were going to invite people to our recital!”

“It’s getting warm in here,” Richard said, grinning. 

“I don’t know…  It’s perfectly comfortable on this couch here,” William returned, laughing.

“William, will you come to our recital?” Sandra asked formally, after rolling her eyes at Richard.

“I would love to, if I can,” William agreed.

“Sweet, one more for our column,” Emily said.

Richard just shook his head.

“It will be a recital of exes,” Sandra said, giggling.

William raised a brow.  “Hmm?”

“My long-time high school boyfriend is coming; one of Emily’s old flames will be there; and you, Arlene, hopefully will come…”

“Don’t forget me!” William said, grinning.

“You?” Richard said doubtfully.

William’s face turned crestfallen.  “Richard… You mean… you’ve forgotten our romantic evening on my balcony?”

“Get over it, man.  I told you then that you were too young for me.”

“Ah, well, one can dream.”

“Someone cut him off,” Richard said above the sounds of amusement.

“Well, can I walk through your place and see some more pictures?” Sandra asked, standing up.

“Of course.”  William rose immediately.  “I’ll show you around.  The best photographs are back in my private bedroom.”

“Ooh, is it safe for me to go in there?” Sandra asked.

“You did say you were expecting your audience to be full of past lovers,” William said, eyeing Richard boldly.  Emily and Arlene burst out in hoots, and Sandra just covered her eyes, smiling embarrassedly.

“It’s a long way down to the street, William,” Richard said simply.

Emily stood as well.  “I’ll come too.”

“Thanks for protecting me, Em,” Sandra said.

“Who said anything about protection!”

Laughing easily, the three of them were soon wandering off down the long hallway, glasses in hand.

Richard found himself alone with Arlene.

“Well, this has been a fun night,” Richard said.

“Yeah.  You three should come out more often.”

“I wish.  I’m sure we’ll be hanging out this summer, though.”

“I hope so.  And we have next year, although William won’t be around.”

“So are you and he…?” Richard asked quietly.

Arlene sniffed in amusement, as she glanced down the hallway.

“No.”

“Oh.  Because it sure seems like it.”

“We have a musical… relationship.  And it’s at least as satisfying as the other kind.”

Richard nodded.  He could imagine them sitting side by side on the piano bench, pressed against each other, playing duets…

“Then again, what do I know about the other kind?” Arlene said, laughing nervously.  “I sort of had you, once… and then there was the disaster with my teacher at Juilliard…  Maybe when I get to the real thing I’ll have a different opinion.”

“Why haven’t you let anything happen with William?”

“Me?  It’s him who won’t!  Says it would be weird…  Do you think it is?”

“No weirder than going out with two women.”

Arlene nodded in agreement.  “One time, we kissed, when we were playing together.  Then he stopped.  He said he couldn’t.”

“Oh.”

“It’s obviously the age thing.”

Richard frowned.  “No, I doubt it.”

Arlene looked at him.  “Come on, don’t pretend it’s not.  We’re like forty some odd years apart!  More, even!”

Richard eyed her carefully.  “You can’t tell him I told you this, but one time I caught him with a woman about our age.  They were in a restaurant I happened to go to with my folks.  He was all over this woman, all night.  Well, not all over her, but there was no doubt about what they were going to eat for dessert.”

Arlene leaned in, her eyes deeply interested.  “Really?”

“Yeah.  It was pretty funny, because he never saw me there.  The next time I saw him at Mr. Schatten’s, about a week later, I casually asked how his girlfriend was.  He played dumb, but then I described her, and you should have seen his face.  At last I got him to admit it, but that’s all he’d say.”

“What happened with them?”

“I don’t know.  The next time I asked, he said it was over.  I still make fun of him for it, but he’s never given the details.  He just snaps something funny back and changes the subject.”

“Hmm.  Why wouldn’t he want to be with me then?”  Arlene seemed to grow worried.

Richard shrugged.  “I don’t know.  But you still have a good musical relationship?”

“Yeah, it’s better than ever.”

“Then ask him.  Maybe he’s worried about doing what your Juilliard teacher did to you.”

“He’s helping me.  This is the opposite situation.”

“Well, for you it is.  He might feel like he’d be taking advantage of you.”

Arlene sighed.  “He is older, even though he doesn’t look it.  I always thought he was about forty.  I was pretty surprised to find out his real age.”

“Well, he acts like a kid sometimes, too, so that doesn’t help,” Richard said, grinning as he heard some wild laughter from the far reaches of the apartment.

“I’m afraid to ask him.”

“Why?”

“It might ruin what we do now.  It feels really right to play for him, and with him.  He seems to understand the way I play.  He doesn’t always know what to suggest, especially with technical questions, but he’s really helped me get out of the weird place I was in last year, and start playing music again.  I need that right now, and can’t risk ruining it.”

“I would ask him.”

“Really?  Will you?” Arlene asked, perking up.

“Um… Me?  I meant if I were you, not…”

“Oh, sorry.”

“You… want me to ask him?” Richard said tentatively.

“I don’t know.  Maybe you can sneak it in somehow, without it seeming to come from me?”

Richard pursed his lips and let out a breath.  “Well…”

“I’m in a delicate place right now with him.  I don’t think I want to prod him.  But maybe you can tip the scale.”

“All right.  I doubt I’ll be alone with him tonight, though.”

“I’ll handle that.”

Arlene did, perhaps half an hour later.  She turned to a rosy-cheeked William.

“Where’s your rum?” she asked.

“You know I don’t drink that stuff,” William said.

Richard laughed as he realized the game.

“Then where’s your liquor store?”

“At this hour…?  Right down at the corner.”

Arlene stood, and soon had Emily and Sandra in tow as they went on the rum run.  Not before William pulled out a bill and handed it to Arlene, though.

“Get something good.  If I’m going to have that stuff in my cabinet, at least let it be decent.  I don’t want it contaminating my scotch through osmosis.”

Arlene eyed the large bill, and then grinned at him.

“Well, that was interesting,” William said, as they closed the door.  “Good thing you are sleeping here tonight.”

“Yeah.”

“Your two lovers are amazing,” William said, smiling.

“Is that said in a non-lover kind of way, or do I need to open that window a little wider?”

“Surely you heard their wild shrieks of pleasure when I showed them my, er, bedroom?”

“I heard wild laughter, actually.  Are you sure that’s what you showed them?”

William laughed.  “Really, Richard, they are just charming.  Spectacularly fun.”

“Wait until the rum gets going.”

“I’ll be in bed by then, I’m sure.”

“Yeah right.  Where are we sleeping, then?”

“You three can have the guest room with the queen bed, down on this end.  I assume you can sleep in the same bed?”

“When it’s big enough, yes,” Richard said.

“Good.  And don’t worry, I sleep on the other end, and I won’t hear a thing,” William said confidentially.

“We won’t keep you up.”

William nodded.  “Arlene will be in the other guest room, down that way, too.”

He pointed towards his bedroom.

“Not in your bed?” Richard asked, watching for a reaction.

William turned with narrowed eyes.

“We are not having relations,” he said firmly.

“Relations,” Richard repeated, laughing.  “Why not?”

“Ah, well, you know…  It is a funny thought, is it not…?”  William laughed.

“I’m serious, though.”

William took a deep breath, and looked at the pattern on the coffee table.

“I don’t know.  I’m old, you know…”

“Miss Walker was – ”

“Well, actually, therein lies the problem,” William interrupted immediately. 

He seemed suddenly to look his real age.

“What problem?  Are you having issues with…”

“No, no.  Nothing like that.  I’m not that old, yet.”

Richard waited as William sipped his scotch.

“Lindsey was a great gal.  She went to Juilliard, you see.  Played the cello.  She reminded me a great deal of Arlene, in some ways.”

“Okay.  So things didn’t go so well with her?”

William finished his scotch.

“She committed suicide.”

Richard froze.  For a second, he felt shock, but that was quickly replaced by guilt.

“My god.  William… I’m so sorry.  I never knew…  All this time, I kept bringing her up, teasing you…”  Richard trailed off, feeling ill.

“Don’t worry about that, my friend.  If it had bothered me, I would have told you.”

“Fuck…  I’m still really sorry.  What… What happened?”

“The usual.  The pressure was just too much.  She was an amazing player.  She had superb control of the bow, and really was just a brilliant, brilliant player.  She had a debut with the New York Phil scheduled.”

Richard slowly turned to him as the last piece of information triggered something.  “But wait…  She was going to debut with…?”

William looked at Richard apologetically.  “Her name wasn’t Lindsey Walker.  I just made that up, in case you ever read the paper.”

Richard looked around soberly.

“I went to her Junior recital at Juilliard,” William continued.  “She just captured me.  I went backstage after she finished and professed my love of her playing.  For some reason, out of hundreds of people who did the same, she found me in the crowd as we left the hall.”

William sighed.  “We struck up an unlikely relationship, she and I.  She was my muse, for several months.  But she was also cracking.  She wasn’t made for the big lights, I don’t think.  She couldn’t handle the crowds, but no one listened to her words.  The New York Phil loomed…  It was too much.”

“Damn.”

“I tried to help, but I don’t know what it’s like.  I’ve played the Schatten recitals in front of a few hundred people, most of whom were not there to see me.  That’s it.  How can I know what she felt?”

“But you tried...”

“I don’t know.  At first, I just accompanied her, finding all the pleasure in the world having her play from six feet away.  I was in heaven.  Eventually, we… entered into relations.”

He laughed slightly. 

Richard didn’t find the word funny at all, this time.

William poured himself another scotch.  Richard shook his head when he held the bottle out to him.

“I think at first, she was just happy to play for me.  I was a small, appreciative audience, and I actually had something to say about the music.  She hated greeting people after concerts.  People she didn’t know, that didn’t really understand her…  I told her that they still understood her in a different way, but she couldn’t handle it.  Well, somehow I let things get away from me and she became attracted to me.”

William stared off into the distance for perhaps a minute.

“After our first time, she said to me, ‘I let thousands of people look at my soul when I play.  But I never really looked at my soul, until tonight…’”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.  What do you say to that?”

“Were you still a couple, when she…?”

“Yes.  We were together the night before.”

“God, William, I’m sorry.”

“I still don’t really know what happened.  Rehearsals for the big concert were a few days away from starting.  She seemed to be coming to grips with it, but…  Apparently there was a note, but I don’t know what it said.  I never dared try to find out.  I highly doubt I was in it, not by name anyway.  Otherwise I would surely have been contacted.”

“Did anyone know you two were together?”

“No.  After you told me you had seen me at that place on Seventh Avenue, I realized New York was smaller than I thought.  So we kept things very clandestine after that.  She wanted it that way.  She felt safe here, she said.  There was nowhere to hide at Juilliard.”

“Sounds like a tough place to get by at,” Richard said seriously.

“Juilliard is tough,” William agreed.  “There are amazing musicians and teachers there, but it can sometimes come at a price.”

He locked his eyes on Richard’s.  “But don’t fool yourself, Richard.  It happens everywhere.  When the pressure is on, some musicians crack, and others thrive.  There’s no predicting what will happen.”

Richard nodded.  He thought of Arlene, and Joel, and even himself and Sandra and Emily.  Minor incidents compared to William’s, but still…

“I know.  We’ve even had some moments ourselves,” Richard said quietly.  “Nothing like that, but I can imagine things could be much worse when you’re talking about debuting at Lincoln Center.”

William nodded, and then shook off some of the weight that seemed to be burdening him.  “Are the three of you doing well?”

“Yes.  Much better.  February was tough, but March has been almost like it was last semester.”

“Good.  You all look great.  Sounds like you’re through the dregs of the practicing.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, enough sadness.  We’ll have enough of that tomorrow night.”

“Why?” Richard asked, furrowing his brow in concern.

“Romeo and Juliet.”

“Oh, right.”

“Where are those girls with the rum, anyway?”

As if on cue, they heard familiar laughing voices outside of the open window.

“Here they come,” Richard said.

“All nine of them,” William added, as he rang the girls in.

Richard moved over to sit by William’s side when he sat on the couch again.  “I’m really sorry about all that.  Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“You didn’t need to be burdened with that.”

“William, I…”

“I deal with things myself.  Always have.  I’d much rather talk music with you, than get into these depressive subjects.  I know it was necessary tonight, but…”

“Necessary?”

“Do I need to take your lovers back to my bedroom so you can tell Arlene how things went?”

Richard smiled as he looked sidelong at William.  “You know, you’re smarter than you look.”

“Thanks, I think.”

Richard put his hand on William’s shoulder.  “I can’t imagine what it feels like to go through that… but I do think Arlene is in a good place.  I know she’s interested.”

“Perhaps.  We’ll see, Richard.  The trip out to Wexford did wonders for her.”

“Really?”

“Yes.  And I am warming up to the idea, strange as it is.”

“Why is it strange?”

“I’m old, Richard.  Older than you think.”

“I know how old you are.”

“I’ve seen a lot.”

“Arlene knows too, and she doesn’t have a problem with it.”

The laughter returned, closer now as the elevator opened and the girls spilled into the hallway just outside of the apartment door.

“Sounds like they’ve gotten into the rum already,” William said, standing up.

“Not necessarily.  That’s pretty much how it always is.”

William laughed, and was suddenly thirty years younger again as he pulled open the door.

Arlene immediately glanced at Richard as they came into the room, but he kept his face unexpressive. 

The girls forced a rum and coke on William.  Richard, however, rejected the fifth glass that had been poured, and placed it on the coffee table before going to pour himself a glass of wine instead. 

“This dancer is amazing,” Richard called out, as he looked at the pictures hanging above the server.  William came over to observe the photos.

“Ah, yes.  She was with New York City Ballet for many years.  Amazing extension.”

“I’ll say.  That’s incredible… She’s alive in that picture.”

“She might be my favorite artist, that I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?  I would have guessed a pianist would be in the top slot.”

“No.  I even moved to Europe to follow her there in the early seventies.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course.  She was brilliant.  The most musical thing you ever saw.  Many dancers do their thing to the music.  She…  she made the music.  It was as if the music only happened if she danced.  It flowed off her limbs, like she was painting the phrases in the air.  Complete abandon.”

“You were infatuated with her,” Sandra said.  The girls had joined them at the server.

“Yes,” William agreed.  “One of my muses.”

Richard looked at Emily and Sandra, and they shared a knowing look.

From the hopeful opening bars to the tragic closing scene, Romeo and Juliet turned out to be even more incredible than Elektra had been. 

Sandra looked down the row at her four companions during the final scene where Juliet wakes in her tomb.  Sandra was deeply shaken, unable to control her tears during the emotional melody that played just then.  Her friends were all having the same difficulty she was. 

Juliet did not dance in the last scene.  There was no movement she could make that would be appropriate.  There was no beautiful complement of steps to honor her fallen lover.  The art had been ripped from within her.  All she could do was cry, and then die.

Sandra looked again at Richard and Emily.  If I ever lost them, I’d feel the same way…

The theater was starting to empty, and still the five of them sat in their seats, spent.  The final theme still echoed in all of their heads.  Richard wondered how people could be up and leaving so quickly, laughing and talking as they filed up the aisles.  Perhaps they aren’t as in love as we are…

Emily was the first to move, standing to sigh.

“It’s going to be a very long time before I forget that,” she said quietly.

One by one, they stood and stretched.  The spell didn’t break even as they stepped out into the wide plaza of Lincoln Center. 

“Well…” William said. 

They walked aimlessly for a minute through the plaza.  The fountains had died for the night.

“Aren’t we a happy bunch?” Arlene said, as they looked at the silent pool.

Even that quip only produced a little laughter.

“I am happy,” Sandra said after a moment.  Her tone was emotional.  “And thankful.  I’ve had an amazing weekend.  What more can we ask?  Music, love, friends…  That’s all we’ll ever need in life.”

Richard hugged her close.

“Eloquently put, Sandra,” William murmured.

“Well, I guess this is it, then,” Richard said.

“A last drink?” William offered.  His voice was wistful, however, as if he knew the weekend was already over.

“No, we need to drive back to Wexford tomorrow.  I, at least, need to be fresh.”

William nodded.  “Probably for the best.  I’m rather exhausted myself.”

Reluctantly, they said their goodbyes with hugs and kisses.

“We’ll be seeing you in just over three weeks,” Arlene said.

“Three weeks!” Emily cried.  “It can’t be that close!”

Arlene laughed.  “Oh yes.  Before you know it, the recital will be over.”

“So you will come out?” Sandra asked William.

“I will.  Arlene and I will drive out on Monday and stay for a few days.”

“That will be great,” Richard said. 

“Yes.  I would love to meet your teacher, Richard.”

“I can probably arrange that.  She’s offered to have a party at her house after the recital.  Not sure about getting a picture of her playing, but…”

“A meeting will be more than enough.”

Richard hugged him, and then Arlene, and then they split up at last with final waves.

The girls took his arms as had been habit all weekend, and they walked slowly towards the parking garage.

“Arlene was quiet tonight,” Emily said.  “But not unhappy…”

Richard grinned.  “Last night, when I got up to pee, I went down the hall and her room was empty.”

“Oh!” Emily said.  “That might explain it.”

“Might,” Richard agreed.

“William was quiet too,” Sandra said.  “Same thing, or sad to see us go?”

Richard nodded.  “Both, but also…  It’s a story for another time, but he probably had the hardest time watching the ballet tonight.”

“Why?”

“He lived through his own version of it, not too long ago.”

“Another amazing night, I have to say,” Emily sighed, as Richard killed the engine to the car. 

Their moods had steadily climbed during the car ride back to the Bronx, as they talked about what they had seen and felt during the ballet.  In the end, they returned to acknowledge how amazing it was that they had each other, and in a much less difficult situation than the evening’s protagonists.

“Yes, this was a really incredible night.  And I really don’t want it to end yet.  Are you allowed in our room?” Sandra asked Richard.

He laughed.  “I don’t know.  It’s right next to my parents room.”

“We’ll be entirely quiet,” Emily said.

“Nary a peep.”

Richard raised a brow at Sandra.  “Nary?  You two have been around William too much!”

Sandra opened her car door.  “Come on.  It’s getting late.”

The girls followed Richard into the house, but not before they shared a few kisses.

Vittorio was asleep on the couch, snoring loudly.  An Italian league soccer game was on the television, with the sound turned off.

Richard rolled his eyes at the girls as he nudged his dad.  “Hey.  Wake up!”

Vittorio snorted and came to.  He blinked as he looked around.

“Oh…  I fall asleep?”

“Yeah.  Go to bed.  You’ll be more comfortable.”

Vittorio stood.  “How was the ballet?”

“Incredible,” Emily said.

“Very sad, and very romantic,” Sandra added.

“Bene, bene.  I make breakfast tomorrow, before you leave.”

“That sounds great, Mr. Mazzini.”

Sandra gave him a hug and a kiss on each cheek, and Emily did the same.  Then Richard hugged his dad before sending him off to bed.

Richard pulled the girls to his room once his father was safely behind the closed door.  Emily and Sandra giggled expectantly.

“Shh,” he admonished. 

Shutting his door, he dug through one of the drawers in his desk.

“Sandra, when did you go see Rigoletto?”

“Um, end of ninety-four.”

“Do you know the date?”

She didn’t hesitate.  “December seventeenth.  Why?”

Emily laughed.  “How do remember that?”

“I told you.  It was an unforgettable night,” Sandra said, shrugging.

Richard found what he was looking for:  a stack of ticket stubs held together with a rubber band.

“Wait… You think you might have been there?” Sandra asked, her eyes suddenly sparkling with interest.

“Maybe.  I saw Rigoletto around then.  Let’s see…”

Richard flipped through the stack, and then slowed as he approached the right time period.  At last, he put down the pile, and smiled as he handed Sandra a ticket.

“Oh my god!” she said, looking at him incredulously.  “Maybe we were even sitting near to each other!” she blurted out, examining the stub again.

Richard laughed.  “No.  I would have remembered you, trust me.  Plus, I was way up at the score desk,” he added, indicating the marking on the ticket.  “About as far from fourth row as you can get!”

“Wow…  That’s really wild…” Emily said, smiling broadly.

Sandra handed Richard the stub after a moment.  She didn’t know what to say, so she just kissed him.

“Okay, off you go,” he said.

“What’s wrong with staying in here?” Sandra said suggestively, as she hung onto him.

“My bed makes noise.  The one in your room doesn’t.”

Emily frowned at him.  “How would you know?”

Richard opened the door and pushed them out of the room.

“I’ll see you in a few,” he whispered, as they went off down the hall.

He went to the bathroom and spent a few minutes looking in the mirror, as he brushed his teeth.  I definitely look less tired than when I left Wexford.  Even after midnight…

He quickly changed into some nightclothes, and then quietly crossed the house to enter the girls’ room.  They were sitting on the bed together.

“What’s up?” he whispered.

“Just talking about how good this trip has been,” Emily whispered back.

“Yeah.  It was just the right thing,” Sandra agreed.  “I feel so ready to take on the recital now.”

“Good.  I feel the same.  I look a little more alive in the mirror.”

“Yummy is what you look,” Emily said, pulling him close for a kiss.

Since it was easier to be quiet by touching than talking, things moved quickly.  Richard lost his shirt, and then his shorts.  Emily wasted no time moving her kisses lower, and soon Richard was the one trying to remain entirely quiet.

Sandra had just taken over from Emily, when the Mazzini’s old phone rang in the kitchen like a distant fire alarm.

Richard jumped, causing Sandra to come up coughing as she gagged.

“Sorry,” he whispered, as he hurried to put on his clothes.  He suddenly felt disoriented.  Who’s calling at this hour?  

There were two possibilities.  One was a wrong number, and the other he didn’t like, at all.

“Are you going to get it?” Sandra whispered.

“I can’t go out like this!” he said, gesturing to his boxer shorts, which didn’t hide his arousal very well.

Richard hesitated as the phone rang a third time.  It was too late.  He heard his parents’ door open, and then heard Vittorio’s slow footsteps as he made his way to the kitchen.

At last the ringing cut off, and Richard could hear his dad’s muffled voice answer.

Another syllable followed, and then there was a period of silence.

“Wrong number?” Sandra said.

Vittorio spoke once more, and then Richard heard his foot falls again.  The three of them looked at each other.  The girls giggled quietly, and Richard silenced them with a hand.  His senses seemed heightened, suddenly, as was his heart rate.

Richard squeezed his face tight, as he realized the footsteps were not getting closer.  Shit, he went to my room…

Richard jumped up as his dad approached down the hallway now.  He looked around.  There was nothing available to cover himself with, so he arranged his shirt and shorts as best he could, and stepped out into the hallway just as his dad reached the door.

“Che e?” Richard asked, before his dad could ask questions.  Luckily the lights were all off, save for the night light in the hallway.

Vittorio looked at him for a moment in the darkness.  The whites of his eyes were barely visible.  “E per Sandra.”

“Sandra?”

Richard stepped back, wondering why she’d be getting a call at this hour, at his house.  Nothing he thought of was good, and his heart immediately started to race even faster.

He stepped back into the room, staring at their expectant faces. 

For a moment, he wished he could say it was a wrong number.  They were looking up so beautifully at him right then.  Their eyes glimmered in the dim light, and they were holding hands.

“One of your friends, wanting you to take us out to a party?” Sandra asked.

Richard shook his head, finding his breathing growing uneven.  He stared for a moment longer, unable to speak. 

“No…  It’s actually for you,” he managed at last.

“What?  For me?”

“That’s what my dad said.”

Sandra seemed to consider the situation for a moment, likely running through the same thoughts Richard was having.  Then she quickly got up and hurried to the kitchen, as Vittorio turned on some lights.  Richard and Emily followed.

Sandra picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

Richard heard his father come up behind him.

Sandra had her back to them as she listened to the female voice on the line.  From Richard’s position, he could hear the talking, but the words were indistinct.  Sandra remained motionless for a minute. 

Then she turned.

Her face was a mask of horror as she moved her mouth, unable to make a sound.  Richard stood stunned, the simmering fear inside of him suddenly erupting and gripping his heart like a vise. 

He could now hear the voice on the phone as Sandra lowered it from her ear.

“Sandra?  Sandra?  Are you there?” the tinny voice repeated.

Sandra looked at them for a long second, before staggering back and rebounding off the counter as she fell to her knees.

A wail pierced the night, and Richard felt like his world was suddenly caving in.

What is happening?

Forward to Chapter 31

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