Opus One

Chapter 31: Lacrimosa

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ryansylander/www/

Richard shook himself out of his stupor as he saw Emily taking Sandra into her arms on the floor.

“What happened?” Emily asked repeatedly, but Sandra just stared off wildly in shock, breathing in ragged spurts.  She was barely able to breathe, let alone talk.

Richard picked up the phone from the floor.

“Cosa sta succedendo?” his father asked, coming closer to Sandra.

Richard ignored him.

“Hello?”

“Hello?  Who is this?” the voice asked urgently.

“This is Richard.”

“Oh, Richard…  This is Sandra’s mom.  Is she okay?”

“She’s… in shock.  What’s happening?  Is your husband okay?” Richard asked, fearing the worst.

“It’s not Robert,” she said.  Her voice was punctuated with emotional pauses and sobs.  “One of her childhood friends has been badly hurt.”

Richard felt his throat tighten up.  “Oh, no…”

He looked down and noticed Emily’s stricken face frantically mouthing ‘Her dad?’ as she held Sandra against her. 

He shook his head.

“He got trapped in a house that was on fire,” her mom continued.  “He’s very badly burned.  I am very sorry to wake up your family at this hour, but…”

“No, absolutely do not worry about that.  What’s his condition?”

“It’s… It’s very bad.”

Richard paced around the kitchen frantically. 

“What’s his name?”

“Billy.  Billy Jackson,” Sandra’s mom said, her voice cracking.  “Emily met him when she was here.  Is she there, too?”

“Yes… She’s with Sandra…”

Richard felt like the world was spinning around.  He looked down at Emily and mouthed Billy’s name.  Emily closed her eyes in utter despair.

Richard knew how much Sandra still cared about her childhood friend and ex-lover.  Even though things were long over between them romantically, Sandra still had a place in her heart for him.  He had called just before they left, to let Sandra know he was definitely coming to the recital.  But now…

“Was anyone else hurt?” he asked, when he finally regained the ability to speak

Mrs. d’Arcy paused before answering.  “Yes.  We’re still not sure what happened.  The fire wasn’t at his house.”

“When did this happen?”

“A few hours ago.  We’re at the hospital.  I know you are on break, and if it was anything less, I would never have called at this hour…  He…  he…”

Her mother struggled with the words. 

“He asked for her,” she finally managed.

“How bad is it?”

On the floor, Sandra was wailing in Emily’s arms.  Vittorio was looking on, his face wretched.

“As bad as it can get,” Mrs. d’Arcy said.  Her voice gave way.

“Can you give me a number where you are?”

There was a pause, and then she recited some digits.  “Room 221.”

“I will call you in a few minutes.  I’m really sorry to hear this.  I know how close your family must have been with Billy, after he and Sandra went out for so long…  I’m so sorry…  Let me just help Sandra for a minute.  I will call you right back.”

“Sandra?” her mother pleaded.

“She’s very upset…  I don’t think she can talk right now.”

“Please take care of her?”

“I will, Mrs. d’Arcy.  I promise.”

Richard hung up and looked at the girls.  Sandra was still crying uncontrollably.

He considered telling Emily what was going on, but with Sandra in her state, he balked.  He could do nothing for her beyond what Emily was already doing, so he turned to his father.

“What happened?” Vittorio asked, in Italian.  Richard glanced at Sandra and then pulled his dad into his room.

“A friend of hers from her town was burned in a fire.  He’s close to death.”

Vittorio closed his eyes.  “Dio…”

Richard changed into pants, and then quickly started throwing clothes into his bag.  “We’re leaving now.”

“Right now?”

“He asked for her.  Maybe we can get there, before…”

Vittorio nodded, and then hesitated.  “But does she want to go?  Flames do not pardon…”

Richard stopped packing for a moment.  Does she?  Does she want to see him this way?  He squashed the images that presented themselves to him before he felt too ill.

“At the very least, she can be with her family, and that of her friend,” Richard finally said.  “Then she can choose what to do.”

“Are you sure you will leave now?  At least sleep for a few hours.”

Richard shook his head.  “There will be no sleep tonight, no matter what happens.”

Vittorio nodded.  “Can I help?”

“Make me an espresso.  Make three,” Richard corrected, “and put them all in one mug.  But wait until I have the girls in the car, or it will be too noisy.”

Richard handed him his packed bag, and the car keys.  Vittorio nodded, not needing more instruction.

Richard returned to the kitchen as his dad continued outside.  He knelt down and took Sandra from Emily, cradling her in his arms.

“He asked for you,” he said gently.

Sandra grew even more anguished.

“Do you want to go see him?”

For a long time, Sandra didn’t give an indication through her crying.  Then Richard caught the nod.

He looked at Emily.  “Billy was hurt in a fire, and he’s in the hospital.  Can you get ready, and then find something for Sandra to wear?  She can change later.  We’re leaving now.”

Emily looked at him wide-eyed, and then stood and ran to their room.  Soon she returned with their bags and her horn.  Richard stood, picking Sandra up.  Vittorio waited by the front door, and held it open as they approached.

Richard carried Sandra outside to the car, with Emily following.  Emily threw the bags into the front seat that Vittorio held open, stashed her horn in the trunk, and then sat in the back.  Richard gently maneuvered Sandra into the seat next to her, and Emily soon had her cradled in her lap.

Richard heard the coffee grinder spring to life through the screen door.

“I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.  Just hold on,” he said.

Richard’s mother was in the kitchen, and Vittorio was relating the news to her.  Richard gave her a brief hug as he grabbed the phone and dialed the hospital.

A man answered this time.

“Hi, I’m a friend of Sandra’s,” Richard said.  “I’m trying to get Sandra there, and need to know where to go.”

A second man took the phone.

Fortunately, he was in much better shape than Sandra’s mom had been, and he quickly gave the directions Richard needed.

“Where’s the map?” he whispered to his mom, as he wrote down the last bits of information.

“All right, thanks.  Please tell Sandra’s mom that we are leaving for there right now.”

As Richard hung up, Angelina opened a drawer and pulled out a map of the northeast.  He spread it out on the table and jotted down the interstates he needed to take, until he dovetailed with the directions the man had provided.  He fingered the scale and then measured off the route, wincing as he reached the end.  Over five hundred and fifty miles…

For a moment he wondered if he was crazy.  The clock read twelve fifty-three.

Vittorio handed Richard a mug of concentrated caffeine, and sighed.

“Just be careful,” he said.  “It’s not worth rushing over, if it will result in another accident.”

Richard nodded soberly, and then hugged his parents.

“Tell the girls goodbye,” Angelina said, patting his cheek.

“I will.  Sorry we won’t eat breakfast.”

Vittorio nodded respectfully, and then pushed Richard towards the door.  “Forza, Riccardo, forza.”

 With a last wave, Richard pulled out of the driveway and gunned the car down the empty streets of his neighborhood.  After a few minutes, he was on interstate ninety-five, and then crossing the Washington Bridge. 

In the back, Sandra had quieted, although she was still quite shaken.  Emily caressed her hair as she continued to lie on her lap.

“Is it really bad?” Sandra asked, her voice unrecognizable.

Richard looked in the rear view mirror at Emily.  Their eyes met for an instant, and then he looked back at the road. 

“Yeah.”

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“Your mom didn’t say that,” Richard said quietly, hoping she took his words at face value.

“I can’t believe this is happening.  Not right now.  Not with everything going on.”

Emily gently shushed her as she seemed to grow agitated again.

“Just rest, Sandra.  Billy will need you to be strong for him, when we get there.”

As the northern part of New Jersey began to fly by, Sandra just stared at the back of the seat. 

Richard glanced down at the Styrofoam cup beside him.  The coffee was long gone.  He should have gotten a second cup at the fuel stop, he realized, since he was starting to feel the first hints of exhaustion creeping into his eyes.  Then again, he wondered if the foul brew even had any caffeine in it.

“How are you?” Emily asked, waking up in the back. 

“I’m hanging in there.”

“I don’t mind driving.”

“I know.  I’ll be all right.”

“Sandra’s still asleep.”

“Good.  She can’t do anything in the car, so she might as well.”

“Are we planning on staying there tonight?”

Richard shrugged.  “I don’t know.  If the worst happens, then Sandra will probably stay a few days for the funeral, I guess.  If not, she might also stay, to be with him for a while.  God, this is terrible…”

“I know.  He’s a good guy.  He’s kind of quiet, in that Midwestern kind of way.  Or maybe he was just taken with Sandra when we were down visiting.  I don’t know.”

“Poor guy.  Argh, I feel like crap.  What a horrible thing to have happen.”

“How much longer?”

“Another hour, or less.”

Richard kept his eyes on the road, scanning for police cars.  The morning sun was already illuminating the land around them as it flashed by. 

Romeo and Juliet seems like it had happened a month ago…

Sandra stirred suddenly.

“We’re almost there,” Emily said, resuming her caresses.

“Did I sleep?” she asked wearily.

“Yes.”

“I was hoping it was all a bad dream.”

“I wish it was too,” Emily said softly. 

Richard was on his last ounce of energy when he stopped the car in front of the hospital doors.  Emily got out with Sandra, and they went inside while Richard drove the car to the parking lot. 

His eyes were starting to dart around involuntarily.  He had been moments from pulling over to let Emily drive, but then the exit came, and the change of pace from the interstate to the rural highway had given him some minutes of new life.

He looked at his watch.  It was almost seven thirty.  He found it hard to believe he had been at his house less than seven hours ago. 

Despite the tremendous temptation to pass out where he sat, Richard got out and went into the hospital.  After signing in and taking the elevator up one floor, he ran into Emily, who was waiting for the elevator herself.

“What’s happening?” he asked wearily.

“He’s still alive.  I was just coming to find you.”

Richard let out a sigh of relief.  At least the trip hadn’t been in vain.  It didn’t make the situation any better, but at least Sandra could be involved in whatever unfolded next.

“Where’s Sandra?”

“She’s with her mom.”

Emily stopped walking as they entered a somewhat full waiting area.

“Okay.  We should wait out here, huh?”

“Yeah.  The room’s right down there,” Emily said, pointing. 

Richard saw Sandra talking to her mom, as several other people stood by.

“Robert told me that we really don’t want to go in there.”

Richard nodded, feeling his body recoil slightly.

“Whatever happens, let’s just be strong for her,” Richard said.

Emily nodded.  “I’ll do my best.  I know what she’s going through,” she said distantly.

“You don’t have to go in there, Sandrine.”

Sandra turned her sad eyes to her mother.  “I do.  You said he called for me.  I have to go.”

The pain in her mother’s eyes was touched with fear.

“It’s bad,” she said for the third time, making sure Sandra understood.

Sandra squeezed her mother’s hand, and then reached for the door handle. 

She took a deep breath, and then opened the door and went in, steeling herself for what she was about to see.

It was far worse than she had even imagined.

Yolande was crying softly as Robert held her.  My poor Sandrine…

The door opened a few minutes after Sandra went in, and Kyle limped out of the room, his face twisted and red with despair.

He stumbled, and his father reached over to support him.

“It’s all right, son,” Tim said, as he pulled Kyle into a hug.  “Billy’s a strong one.  He’s gonna pull through.”

Kyle just stared off past his dad’s shoulder. 

There was sudden rush as a few nurses ran past them and went into the room next to Billy’s.  Yolande fought off the wail in her throat as she heard orders shouted out before the door closed and shut off the horrible scene within. 

It was only a matter of time now, before Billy would follow Kelly into that gentler world.  I just wish Sandrine didn’t have to see it…

“Emily?”

She looked up at a familiar man standing before her.

“You’re Kyle’s dad.”

“Yeah.  I’m Tim.”

Emily stood up, hugging him.  “This is my friend, Richard.”

Richard shook hands with him, nodding his head somberly.

“Kyle knows you’re here.  He told me to come say hello.  He needs to be with Billy, now,” Tim explained.

“Of course,” Emily said.  “We got here as soon as we could.  Richard drove all night, nonstop, as soon as we heard.”

“You done a good thing, son.  We always still think of Sandra whenever we think of Billy.  Even after they split up.  It’s only fitting that she be here when he goes.”

Emily’s face saddened.  “It’s close then?”

“Yeah.  Those of us who could stand it just went in to say goodbye.  I ain’t no doctor, but I know the end when I see it.”  Tim shook his head.  “He’s just with his dad, and Sandra and Kyle now.  They was the people who meant the most to him.”

“Is he awake?  Does he know they’re with him?”

Tim looked at her.  “He knows.”

“How did this happen?”

Tim shook his head.  “Some kind of fire at the Carney’s house.  Kyle and Billy was driving home from shooting some pool, and they saw the flames jumping up from the attic.  They ran into the house, waking up Jim and Barb…  Kyle… he, uh, found one of the kids, and Billy grabbed another.  Got them out, and then the boys followed Jim back in to find… find little Kelly.  Oh god, bless her soul…!”

Tim broke down.  Emily hugged him tightly, tears running down her cheeks. 

At last Tim composed himself some.

“They didn’t come out.  Fire trucks got there, and they found Jim and Kyle trying to clear out the doorway, but Billy was trapped.  The attic caved in on him when he was getting Kelly from her crib.”

Emily had a hand to her mouth.  Richard felt ill.

“What happened to her?” Emily whispered.

Tim shook his head, his face miserable.  He was unable to speak.

Emily broke down into sobs.

Someone came running from the direction of Billy’s room.

“Tim…”

Tim gave Emily a last stricken look, and then hurried away.  Emily watched through watery eyes as Kyle staggered out of the room and fell into his dad’s arms.  They seemed to struggle, as Kyle convulsed in agony.  As Tim became overwhelmed, Sandra’s dad stepped in to try and help.  All around, people were crying as they watched helplessly while the three men thrashed about.

Emily closed her eyes, unable to take anymore.  She felt Richard’s arms wrap around her, just before things went black.

Sometime that evening, as the sun began to consider setting, Richard found himself sitting quietly outside of the d’Arcy home.  An earlier nap had done little good; he was still exhausted. 

Sandra would be staying a few more days for the funeral.  He and Emily had accepted the offer to stay one night before leaving for Wexford, even though it meant missing a day of classes.  There was no choice, however.  Driving now would have meant certain disaster.

The mood inside the house was expectedly somber as people from the town came all afternoon to offer condolences.  Richard had felt out of place, not knowing anyone except Emily and Sandra.  Now, Emily was out walking with Kyle, and Sandra was sitting with Billy’s father and the Carney family in the living room. 

He was listening to the gusty breeze blowing over the wide fields of Sandra’s farm, when another sound seemed to come out of the wind.  It was like a distant, mournful horn, at first.  Then Richard heard the movement of a slow melody emerge from the droning sound.

The wind ebbed and flowed, seemingly trying to lift the despondent but beautiful  melody. 

Richard sat up, straining to listen.  It seemed as if the wind was carrying the sound in from miles away.

It’s Sandra, he suddenly realized. 

The wind at last slackened some, and Richard could more clearly hear the fiddle through the open windows of the house.

There was nothing fancy or technical about the playing.  It remained a simple melody, sounded over a droned string.

But how it moved Richard!  He was riveted to the chair, as Sandra’s emotions filled the melody through three repetitions. 

As quietly as it began, the music ended.  The wind, sensing that the moment was over, blew strong again and swept the sound of the fading drone away over the fields. 

Richard slumped back down in his chair, deeply haunted by the sound.

Emily was beside Kyle as they walked out along a dirt drive that led between the fields.  After asking her if she would accompany him on a walk, he had been silent.  His red, stricken eyes scanned the farm, as if seeing Billy and himself playing here and there in their younger days.

After some time, they approached an area of trees, and soon Emily heard the gentle sound of running water.  Kyle led her to the bank, and looked out over the stream that ran through the grove.

“We grew up here,” he said quietly.  “When we weren’t working on the farm, or in school, we were down here.”

He pointed.  Emily saw an old tire sticking out of the water, with the tattered remains of a rope still attached around it.  The other end, long since severed, hung down a few feet from an overhanging tree limb.

“The old tire.  We’d swing out over the water and jump in to that deep pool.”

Kyle breathed in deeply, and then closed his eyes.  “Billy, Sandra, Annabelle, and me…  We grew up here.”

“It’s very peaceful.”

“It is, now.  It could be noisy, too, when we played.  It was whatever we made it.”

“You knew Billy his whole life?”

“Yeah.  The four of us were all born and raised here in this town.  When you saw one of us, the other three weren’t far behind.”

He looked around again.  “Even when we were in high school, we still would come here.  We’d swim, lie in the sun…  Billy got too heavy for the tire, and snapped the rope one day.  That was the end of that…” Kyle sniffed.  “Sometimes Billy snuck a bottle from his old man’s cabinet, even.” 

Kyle walked up the bank and Emily followed him over to a fallen tree.  He kicked the log aside, revealing the top of a liquor bottle sticking out from the rotten wood beneath. 

“Still here, a year later.”

He pulled on the top.  It gave way easily, since most of the bottle was no longer there.  He looked wistfully at the broken edge of glass, and then tossed it back into the dirt, carefully replacing the log to cover it.

“We still came here when he and Sandra were going together.  I was with Annabelle, and you know, it was the same as when we were kids.  Nothing was really different.  We were just kissing a little more often.”

“Where is Annabelle?”

“She went out west.  She was a smart girl, and got into Stanford, if you can believe that.  She’s flying back tomorrow, so she can be here for the funeral.”

“We probably won’t meet her.  We’re leaving tomorrow,” Emily said apologetically.

“I know.  But I am glad that you came.  I still think about that weekend you came down with Sandra in November.”

Emily smiled at him.  “It was a good time.”

Kyle walked back toward the brook, and sat on the grassy slope.  Emily sat right next to him, and they stared at the peaceful scene for a time.

She imagined a young Sandra frolicking around in the water, teasing Billy.  She knew Sandra had been much more shy in certain ways before arriving at Wexford, but she imagined she still would have been the center of attention.

“I had something I was going to show you when I came up to see you play in a few weeks,” Kyle said.

“You can still come.”

He sighed sadly.  “It wouldn’t be the same… you know, without…”  He squeezed his eyes tight.

“I know, Kyle.  A lot of things won’t be the same.  Your life is changed, forever.  Eventually, you’ll realize that that’s the endless truth…”

He looked at her.  “You’ve lost a good friend, too.”

“Yeah.”

Kyle nodded, understanding.

“It’s the worst,” Emily murmured.

He started to cry quietly.  Emily put her arm around his shoulder, and leaned against him. 

The brook continued to mark the passage of time with its endless flow.

“It should have been me, Emily.”

“You?”

“Yeah.  In that house.  We went back in, after we got two of the kids out… and when we got to the hallway…” Kyle swallowed hard.  “I hesitated.  I knew we were right under the fire.  You could feel it, and see it.  But Billy…  Billy…  He went in.  He didn’t think about it.  Didn’t ask no questions.”

Kyle broke down again, as Emily hugged him tight.

“I was scared, Emily.  That ceiling… it looked like the mouth of hell.  I froze…”

“You saved one of the kids, Kyle.  You did everything you could.”

“No, Billy did everything he could…  Jim and me were right behind him, once he led the way…  But it was him, in the end, that went in first.  It should have been me.”

The breeze suddenly picked up, and Emily felt a chill.

“But it wasn’t you, Kyle.  Things just happen the way they do, for reasons we don’t know.”

“It’s not right, though!  Billy was going somewhere…  He was smart, too, you know.  The three of them, they were all sharp, in their own ways.  They all went off to college.  I stayed to work with my dad at the farm, while they went off.  And now, Billy’s not coming back.  He had a new lady friend at school.  And Billy’s old man…  He already lost his wife when Billy was just a little kid.  And now his only son…”

Kyle turned to her, his tears flowing.  “I just got my folks here, Emily, and they’re getting old.  That’s it.  Billy was my best friend.  It was still like old times, when he came back for breaks.  But now… he’s gone.”  Kyle’s voice cracked.  “My friend is gone.”

“Kyle…”

“Why him?  Why not me?”

Kyle crumpled up, and Emily cradled him as he shook.

She cried too, knowing his feelings as if they were her own.

Richard was still in his chair when Sandra’ s dad came out of the house with Tim.  They were talking quietly, and spotted Richard as they headed towards Tim’s car.

“Richard, how are you holding up?” Robert asked.

Richard shrugged and shook his head.  “I’m… holding up.  Don’t worry about me,” he said, deflecting the attention away from him.

“I appreciate your effort, driving last night so Sandra could be here.”

Richard nodded.  “It’s the least I could do.  I feel somewhat helpless now.”

Robert nodded, clapping a hand to his shoulder.  “We all do…  Tim and I are going to go down to the Carney’s place and get some of their things.  Jim needs his medicine, and there are some other things they’ve asked for.  Do you want to come with us?”

“I’m afraid it won’t be a nice trip,” Tim added.

Richard stood, grateful for the chance to do something, even if it was a morbid task. 

“Will you stay for the funeral?” Tim asked, as they drove to the burnt house.

“No, we need to leave tomorrow.  As much as we want to be here for Sandra, we have to go back to our lessons and classes.  We’ll leave in the morning, since we have to return the rental car and everything.”

“I know it’s a busy time of the semester,” Robert said.  “I will drive Sandra up on Wednesday.  I hope she won’t miss so much that it causes her trouble.”

“She will be okay in her classes.  I’ll let her teachers know what is going on.”

“She will appreciate that.  We are very much looking forward to the recital, Yolande and I.”

“Good…  I know Billy was too…” Richard said quietly.

“That he was,” Tim agreed sadly.

“He’ll be there in spirit, I know,” Robert said.

The house was frightening to look at.  Richard found himself feeling extremely uneasy as the three of them entered and quickly gathered the things that had been requested.  The smell of smoke hung heavily in the rooms.  When they passed a taped off and blackened section of the hallway, Richard fought not to look.  That direction was where the worst had happened.

If Robert and Tim were uneasy, they didn’t show it. 

Ten minutes later, Richard was glad to be out of the house and driving away.  In the darkening evening light, the inside of the house had an awful, surreal feeling to it.  All the signs of a house having been lived in were there: dishes drying in the sink, children’s toys on the floor of the family room, some unopened mail on the counter… 

In the gloom, it all had a mortal pall.

Richard and Emily were sitting on the floor of Sandra’s room when she came in that evening.  They all hugged each other tightly.

Sandra was clearly exhausted from the difficult day, so Richard and Emily helped her get ready for bed, and then caressed her head once she was under her sheets.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she said quietly.

“I know,” Emily said.

“It just reminds us that we need to live life today.  You never know when your last hour will come.”

Richard squeezed her hand.

“Do you want us to stay until Wednesday?”

“No,” Sandra said.  “You need to get back.  I’ll be okay.  I have my parents here to help.”

“Okay,” Emily said.  “We’ll be thinking of you.”

“I’ll be thinking of you, too,” Sandra said.  “I love you both.  Thank you for staying today.  Even though we didn’t spend much time together, it was comforting seeing you around, and getting your hugs.”

“We love you too,” Richard said, and then he and Emily kissed her forehead.

Soon Sandra’s breathing turned heavy, and Richard and Emily let her sleep.

“Sounds like she’s hanging in there,” Richard said, as they settled into their cots.

“For now.  It can take time to grieve, though.”

He nodded.  “I know.  Well, I don’t know, but I can imagine.”

He gave Emily a kiss.

“Try and sleep, Em.  Tomorrow will be a long day.”

Richard dumped their bags down onto the white rug, and sighed wearily.  He watched as Emily put her horn in the corner, and then breathed deeply as she fell into his arms.

“She’ll be all right,” he murmured.

“Yes, she will.  I hope she finds some closure at the funeral tomorrow.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m about to pass out.”

“Me too,” Emily agreed.  “I know Sandra’s bed is free, but could you still sleep in my bed?”

“Of course, Em…  I’ll go get ready.”

The day had been extremely long.  It was hard to leave Sandra that morning.  The drive had felt like a weeklong journey.  Adding to the misery was the need to drop the rental car off downtown and then fight their way to Wexford by taking the train and walking with their bags and Emily’s horn.

Once in bed, Richard held Emily tightly as she cried. 

“It’s so weird, being back at school without her,” she said.

“I know.  It’s like there’s a huge hole in the room.”

“I wish we could have stayed with her.  But I know we had to get back.”

“Sandra has an excuse to be away for three days, but I don’t think that would fly with our teachers all that well.”

“No, I know.  We did what we could, anyway.”

“We did.  Are we going to history class at eight?” Richard asked.

“Don’t set the alarm.  If we get up, then fine.”

“Okay.  I doubt I’ll be rousing, then.”

“We won’t be missed there.”

“You’re right.”

“I love you, Richard.”

“I love you too, Em.  Let’s try and rest up these next two days, so we can be strong for Sandra when she comes back.”

Emily nodded, and wiped at her cheek. 

“Yeah, she’ll need us.”

The next morning, they were not even close to rising on time for the early class.  Emily also missed her ten o’clock theory class.  Finally hunger forced them to get out of bed and go to eat lunch.

“How did you sleep?” Emily asked.

“Not very well,” Richard admitted.

She nodded knowingly.  The funeral had probably just started.

There was nothing else to say.

An hour later, Richard walked into theory class, not wanting to be there at all.  He had promised Sandra he would tell all her teachers what was happening.  While he didn’t expect Dr. Dobra to have any problem with her situation, he was not looking forward to having to explain it.  Even as he thought of it, he felt his chest tighten.

It was for this reason that he felt a wave of relief when he sat in his chair.  Dr. Dobra was not there.  A man named Dr. Wilcox was substituting for the class. 

Richard sighed, relieved he could put off one retelling the tragic events for another day.

Wilcox started out the class with vigor.  Richard thought he was funny for a few minutes, but then he became annoying and pretentious.  Compared to the stern, but ultimately caring way in which Dr. Dobra would skewer his students, Wilcox came off as a hack. 

By the end of the class, Richard found himself wishing Dr. Dobra had been there after all.  It became clear to him that Wilcox didn’t think women could do theory, after most of his victims ended up being female.  He seemed to take special pains to make sure he was not impressed by their efforts, while a similar quality of response from a male received indifference or even praise.

Wait until he meets Sandra, Richard thought, grinning.  Then he remembered that Sandra would not be in her class that afternoon, and his grin evaporated.

Even a ‘Good job’ thrown his way after he correctly analyzed a passage was not enough to remove the bad taste he had as he walked back to the dorm.

“I’m done with classes for the day,” Richard said, as he kissed Emily back in their room. 

“I never even went…  but I do have to practice some more…” she said apologetically.

“Well, I’m also going to practice.  But at least I don’t have to be around other people anymore today.  I’m just not up for it.”

“I know exactly what you mean.  Hey, was Dobra in class today?” she suddenly asked.

“No, he wasn’t.  How did you know?”

“I heard someone saying something about him.”

Richard frowned.  “What?”

Emily pursed her lips.  “I don’t know.  I thought I heard he was on leave, or something.”

“Leave?”

“I just overheard.  But then again, most of the stuff you overhear around here is usually true.”

“Jeez.  I don’t know.  The sub today didn’t say anything.”

“Hmm…  Maybe Doberman had some troubles of his own,” she said, pensively.

“I’ll see what I can find out tomorrow, if he’s still out.”

“Well, do you want to do the Hindemith, or work on your solo stuff?” Emily asked.

“My lesson is tomorrow morning, so let’s wait a day to get together.  I’m probably going to be quite unprepared for the lesson, but I’ll let Irina know what happened.”

“Will she understand?  Does she know you went to New York?”

“She asked what I was doing, yes.  She thought a break would be good at this point.”

“Cool.”

“Are you going to practice here in the room?” Richard asked.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind.  Like you said, I don’t want to be in the building with other people right now.  Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.  It’s not like there’s a piano in the room I can use.  I just asked in case you wanted to walk over together.  I’m going to go find a place to hole up and work on the Etudes.”

“Dinner at six, love?”

“See you then, Em.”

Richard didn’t have to wait for his one o’clock theory class the next day to see if Dr. Dobra was returning.  He found Emily at eleven so they could eat lunch.  When he saw her, he knew that the news hadn’t reached her yet.

He greeted her and then the two of them hurried out of the building towards the cafeteria.

“Slow down,” Emily said wearily.

“Don’t you have piano class at noon?”

“I’m not going.  I don’t need to deal with that today.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Then we can walk normally.”

“Sandra called while you were in your lesson,” she said.

Richard looked at her sadly.  “How is she?”

“She sounds all right.  A little out of it, and naturally still very sad.  The funeral was hard… But she said she was really looking forward to seeing us tonight.”

“Good.  We’ll see how she really is, then.  How are you holding up?”

“I’m in a daze today,” Emily said.  “But that’s what it’s been for the last few days.  How was your lesson?”

“It was fine, actually.  Irina said I was doing well.  I still told her what was going on.  She said my playing was coming together on the Etudes.  I guess she likes what she’s hearing.”

“Good.”

“I was kind of distracted the whole time, though.”

“I know.  I can’t stop thinking of Sandra.”

“Me too.  But… I also was distracted because I saw Jer this morning.”

“Did you walk in on him and Jenna again?”  Emily’s voice carried none of its usual bite, however.

“No,” Richard said thoughtfully.  “He told me why Dobra wasn’t in class.”

Emily raised a brow.

“Apparently he is on leave.  Suspension, really.”

She frowned.  “Why?”

“I don’t know if Jer was telling the truth, but he said that some girl accused Dobra of sexual misconduct.”

“What?” Emily blurted out.  “No way…!”

“That’s what Jer said.  He tried to blackmail her into sexual favors, or she’d fail.”

“Who was it?”

“No one knows.  He said it sounds pretty serious.  The administration is keeping a lid on it.”

“Which means everyone knows…  Damn.  But…”

Richard nodded, reading her thoughts.  “Yeah.  I don’t know.  Apparently he is out indefinitely, until they investigate.”

“This is messed up.  People always said he was weird in that way.  Still…”

“Yeah, when that thing happened with Sandra last semester, I thought so too, for a few days.  After that, though, I never felt that way again.  Now, I don’t know what to think.”

“But he never took advantage of her.”

“Maybe he was building up to it,” he said, shrugging.  “Gaining her confidence for a few semesters, and then bribe her at the end when she was comfortable?  I don’t know.  It’s all weird.”

“He did let her breeze through the final exam last semester, and the midterm this semester,” Emily said, her thoughts distant. 

Richard knew she was reviewing all memories she had of Sandra’s interactions with the man.  He had done the same.  There was not any evidence to suggest anything inappropriate in any way.  There also was not enough evidence to rule it out for the future, either.

“Then again, I’ve seen her do the theory,” Richard offered.  “She really can do it.” 

“True, but…  Wow, she’s going to be crushed to hear this.  You know how much she likes theory.”

“I know.  Or she’s going to be scared.  Or who knows what.  It’s not really what she needs to hear, getting back from her house.”

Emily shook her head.  “Crazy, crazy.”

“I guess this Wilcox guy is taking over his classes for now.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to worry about becoming a theory major anymore,” Emily said.

“I guess.  Dobra was definitely her champion there.  Now, the whole thing is suspect.  It’s really ugly, if it turns out to be true.”

“Like I said the other day, things you overhear from musicians generally are.  Keeping a lid on it or not, some steam always escapes.”

“Fuck…”

They spent some minutes in silence, still somewhat stunned at the news.

“Any way to keep it from Sandra?” Richard asked, knowing his question was ridiculous.

“Sure.  We kidnap her and lock her in her closet.”

Later that day, Richard approached Wilcox after class had ended.  He still needed to explain Sandra’s three day absence, now that Wilcox was the teacher of record for her fourth semester class.

Except for her conducting teacher who was away, he had contacted all of her other teachers.  This was the meeting he was dreading most, for some reason.

“Um, excuse me…”

“Yes?” Wilcox said, glancing at Richard for a second.

Richard already felt like bashing that arrogant look out of him.  He took a breath.

“I just wanted to let you know I missed Monday because I was with a friend whose friend died.”

Wilcox leaned in.  “Your friend died?”

“No, my friend’s friend.  She’s actually a student here, in your class.”

He frowned.  “And she’s dead?”  Wilcox looked around, smirking, as if he were looking for a dead body in one of the chairs.

Richard held his hand out.  “No.  She –”

Wilcox interrupted him.  “Fine, I don’t need the details,” he dismissed.  “You are allowed two absences from the class, so don’t be concerned.  You seem like you are doing fine.  Matt, is it?”

Richard just nodded after a second.  “There’s one more thing.  My friend, who is in your fourth semester class at three… She’s been absent the last two days, and I wanted to let you know it was because her friend died.”

“Very well, she can explain herself when she returns to class today.”

“She probably won’t be back until tomorrow, or maybe Monday.”

Wilcox raised a brow at him, as he played a little melody on the piano.  “What is your friend’s name?”

Richard considered giving a fake name, or storming out, or smashing the keyboard cover down on his hands and stomping on it as he… 

Breathe…

Wilcox would figure it out soon enough.

“Sandra d’Arcy.”

“Sandra d’Arcy.  Well, I allow two absences in my classes.  If you speak to her, recommend to her that she try to attend class at her earliest possible convenience.”

Richard nodded slightly.  “Okay.”

Wilcox ignored him, so Richard just walked out.

Well, that was utterly unnecessary…

“This Wilcox guy is an asshole,” Richard announced that evening when he met Emily to practice.

“Why?”

“He just is.  He made a girl cry in class today.  He’s being completely unfair to the females in the class.  Then when I told him about Sandra, he didn’t give a shit.  ‘I allow two absences in my class…’  The stupid fuck talks like he owns the place.”

“I’m guessing he’s making sure he doesn’t get accused of being another Dobra, at least in the ladies department.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“The admin probably said they’d cut off his balls if there was any funny business, so now he’s playing it tough.”

“No one’s going to accuse Wilcox of favoring the women in the class, that’s for sure.  Something feels weird, though.”

“We’ll see what happens when he meets Sandra,” Emily said.

“I’m actually a little worried about that.  Maybe we can get her to skip class Thursday.”

“Maybe,” she said dubiously.

“I tried to put the seed in this bastard’s ear, but he wasn’t very cool about it.  Still, that will give her a weekend to get used to the news and learn what this Wilcox guy is like.”

“She’ll probably want to go, though, to make sure she can get caught up.  All the more so now, since Dobra’s not there.  She’ll want to get on Wilcox’s good side.”

“Eh.  He’s a stupid teacher, too,” Richard continued.  “Today he messed up, and forgot what he had played for the dictation, and then he just started doing something else to cover it.”

“Sounds like a dick.”

“I actually miss Dobra, funny enough.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” Emily said.

“I know, right?  Fuck, I wish this wasn’t happening!  Something about it is really bothering me.”

“It’s a bad situation,” Emily agreed.

“Let’s play.  I need to get my mind off of this, before Sandra gets here in a few hours.”

Emily nodded, and they began rehearsing.

Sandra arrived later than expected, and the tiredness was obvious in her eyes.  She was still glad to see them, though, and the reunion was bittersweet.  She told them about the funeral, and how hard it had been on the community to lose two young members.

After settling heavily into her desk chair, she finally sighed and put the events of the last few days aside for a while.

“Well… What have I missed?”

“Oh, just practicing, the usual…” Emily said.

“I feel like I haven’t sung in weeks.”

Sandra flipped through the stack of announcements and mail on her desk.  “Thanks for getting my junk,” she said.  Recital programs and event announcements were increasing in frequency in their mailboxes as the end of the semester approached.

“Are we going to stuff everyone’s boxes with our programs?”  she asked.

“I don’t know,” Richard said.  “I think it’s annoying.  Seems like a desperate way to get people to go.”

“Well, I guess we don’t have to decide quite yet.”

Sandra opened a letter.  She sniffed.  “Only here eight months and they’re already asking for money…”

“Who?”

“Wexford alumni association.  Oh wait, this was put in my box by mistake.  It’s for Alex Darby.”

“I get wrong stuff in my box all the time.”

Sandra tossed the letter in the trash.  “If he really wants to donate, he can figure it out.  I don’t have time to work part time in the mail room too.”

Sandra opened another letter.  She frowned as she read it. 

Richard noticed the expression on her face, and his worry mounted quickly.

“What is it?”

“It’s a letter from the board of directors.  I need to…  Crap, what day is it?” she suddenly asked.

“Wednesday.  Uh, the twentieth.”

Sandra relaxed a little bit, but still looked worried.  “I need to go in tomorrow and answer some questions.  What…  What is going on with Dobra?”

Richard closed his eyes.  “Is that what the letter is about?”

“It says he’s being reviewed, and that as a current student in his classes, I need to come in and provide some information.  Did you get one too?”

Richard shook his head.

“What is going on?”

He sighed.  “Dobra is under investigation.”

“For what?”

Richard hesitated, averting his eyes.

“What is it?” Sandra pressed.

“A student accused him of blackmail,” Richard said.

“No…”

“He’s been out the whole week.  There’s a substitute teacher now.”

Sandra looked at him, her mouth open wide. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Richard shrugged.  “You had enough to think about these last couple of days.  I was going to say something tomorrow.”

Sandra nodded, realizing the wisdom in his words.  “What do you know?”

Richard told her the limited information he was aware of, leaving out the explicit accusation Jer had told him about.  Then he described Wilcox.

Sandra blanched as Richard finished.  “But…  I’m in that class because of Dr. Dobra…  He knows what I can do…  This Wilcox guy sounds like he’s not going to be nice at all…”

“You’re in that class because of you, Sandra, not Dr. Dobra.  Just go in there and do what you usually do.  You’ll be okay.”

“But…”

“Listen, you’ll be fine.  I’ve seen you do theory.  Wilcox will give you some attitude if he feels like it, but he can’t say anything about your work.”

“What if Dobra was wrong?”

Richard struggled to find an answer.  “I don’t think he was.  You are doing amazing in the class.”

Sandra rubbed her forehead.  “Why do they want to talk to me?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe they are just checking with female students, to make sure nothing else is going on…”

“Female?  What is he accused of anyway?”

Emily answered after a moment.  “A girl accused him of trading some sort of sexual favors for a good grade.  Otherwise he’d fail her.”

Sandra’s face turned white.  “Are you sure?”

“Well, no one knows for sure, but…”

Richard watched Sandra carefully as she processed the information.

I might as well ask this now, he thought.

“I know this is probably going to be a stupid question, but…  Did anything like that ever happen with you and him?”

Sandra looked at him for a moment, before shaking her head.  “Not even close.  If anything, I feel like he was far too easy on me, letting me through the exams without even a token dictation.  I’ve never felt like he was trying to blackmail me.  Especially not with sex!”

Richard breathed a sigh of relief.  “Then there’s nothing to worry about.  Just tell them the truth, and that’ll be that.”

“Fine, but what about Dobra?”

Richard raised a brow.  “That’s between the school and him.  Not much you can do, except say that you were never threatened.”

“Damn,” Sandra breathed.  She suddenly looked wilted.

“We should get to bed.  What time do you have to be in this meeting tomorrow?”

Sandra checked the paper.  “Ten… Wow, if it had been today, I would have missed it.  It says that it’s important.  I’m to skip any class or lesson I have at that time.”

“It’ll be fine,” Richard said.  “They’ll ask you if anything weird has ever happened with him, and then they’ll let you go.”

I hope so…

Sandra stepped into the conference room right at ten, as directed.  A half-dozen people were present, only one of whom she recognized, and none of whom she had ever talked to.  They were seated around the table, and the school president, Dr. Jensen sat at the head.

The room smelled awful.  She knew it was perfume, but also wondered if it wasn’t some psychological method to make her disoriented. 

“Sandra, please sit,” President Jensen said.  “Thank you for coming.”

Sandra sat opposite him, and the tail end of the table.  She felt extremely nervous as the six faces watched her for a moment.

“I’m sure you have heard rumors about the situation we face here at Wexford regarding Dr. Eugene Dobra,” Dr. Jensen said.

It was not a question, but Sandra nodded.

“We will not keep you long, but we do have some questions we would like to ask you.  Please ignore what rumors you have heard, since much of what you have heard is likely to be untrue.  Answer truthfully, and to the best of your ability.”

He nodded at one of the women at the table.

“Thank you, Dr. Jensen,” she said, acknowledging him.  “Sandra, we called you in this morning because you were one of Dr. Dobra’s students for the past semester and a half, correct?”

“Yes.”

“We have been reviewing the procedures that Dr. Dobra was using while teaching his classes.  We found several instances of… irregular behavior towards certain students of his.  You started in his first level theory class this past August, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“The transcripts show that you moved to the third level class in the middle of that semester.”

“Yes.”

“What was the reason for this change?”

Sandra spoke carefully.  “Dr. Dobra asked that I move up.”

“What were his reasons?”

“He said that I was really good at theory, and that I needed to be in a higher level class.”

“Did you take a placement exam when you auditioned at Wexford?”

“Yes.”

“You finished with an A in the third level class last semester, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take the final exam for the ear training and sight singing course?”

Sandra felt her heart jump.  I did show up…

“Yes, I did.”

“We were unable to find an exam paper with your name for the dictation portions of the exam.”

Sandra hesitated, and she knew they caught it.  I have to tell it like it had happened, now.

“I didn’t take a dictation portion.”

“Why not?”

“When I went to the final, Dr. Dobra said that he didn’t need to test my dictation skills.”

“Why would he say that?”

“He said I was far above the level of the class,” Sandra said quietly.  She was starting to feel slightly nauseous.

“So he had you skip the dictation portions?”

“Yes.  I didn’t even take any paper out.”

“What about the sight singing portion?  Did you take that?”

“I guess.  He had me sing an example he had written on the board.”

The woman nodded, and then passed a paper down to Sandra.

“Was the example comparable to any of these listed on the paper?”

Sandra scanned them quickly.  “No.”

“Easier?”

Sandra looked at them.  “It was two melodies.”

“Two melodies?  Two examples, then?  You said one.”

“No, is was a duet.  I had to sing what I could of both parts at once.”

Frowns and murmurs went around the table.

“What was the purpose?” the woman asked at last.

“He said it was counterpoint.  He asked that I enroll in the counterpoint class.”

The woman looked at a thin man sitting next to her.  He shrugged.

“Did anything else happen while you were in his office taking your final?”

“Like what?”

“Anything.  Did you exchange any other words?  Did he tell you anything beyond asking you to sing the… duet?”

“No.  He just had me sing, told me to enroll in counterpoint, told me I had an A, and to study for the written part.”

The woman wrote things down on her pad.

“Did you take the midterm this semester?”

“I did take a written test.”

“Again, there is no record of a dictation portion.”

“I didn’t take it.”

“Did you do any sight singing?”

“No.”

“Did you go to his office for a midterm at all?”

“No.  He told me after class one day that I should just study for the written portion.”

Again more frowns went around the table.

“Very well.  During the semester, did you ever feel like Dr. Dobra promised you any type of grade in the course?”

Sandra didn’t hesitate.  “No.”

“Did you ever find him to act inappropriately towards you or anyone in your class?”

“No.”

“Did he ever make you uncomfortable, either in his class or in his office?”

“No.”

“Are you absolutely certain, Ms. d’Arcy?”

“Yes.”

The woman wrote a few more lines, and then nodded at the President.  Before he could acknowledge, the thin man seated beside the woman spoke.

“Ms. d’Arcy, do you have any thoughts on why Dr. Dobra would not have you take the final exam in the ear training course?”

Sandra looked at him.  She immediately disliked the man.  He seemed to be trying to look inside of her to find a lie.

“Yes,” she said.

“Continue,” he said, when she remained silent.

“Like I said, he knew my work from class, and felt that taking the exam would be a waste of time for me.”

“You wish to go on record as saying that you are so far beyond the level of the class that you do not even need to take the final?”

Sandra shook her head.  “I didn’t say that,” she said quietly.

“You are implying that you are wasting your time in the class you are in.”

“No, I am learning a lot.”

“But you were not tested.”

“I told you what Dr. Dobra said.”

“What is your background in theory, Ms. d’Arcy?” he asked.  “State any coursework or lessons, please.”

“Until I came to Wexford, I had none.”

“And you took a placement exam?”

“I said I did already.”

The man seemed ready to say something about her response, but then paused.

“I find it hard to believe you are in the fourth level class with such minimal background.”

“I have a good ear,” Sandra said, starting to feel defensive.

The man laughed, not happily.  “Did you ask to be moved up two levels?”

“No.  It was Dr. Dobra’s suggestion.”

“Your written work on the exams is adequate.  Not exceptional, but adequate.  How did you learn the extra material between levels one and three?”

“I went to extra help sessions with Dr. Dobra.”

“Were these held in his office, or in a classroom?”

“In his office.”

“Were they group sessions, or individual sessions?”

“Individual.”

“Did you work on ear training and sight singing?”

Sandra started to tire of the questions.

“I’m almost done, Ms. d’Arcy,” the man said, noting her mood.

“We almost always worked on analysis and written elements.  That’s what I need most practice on, given my limited background.  We almost never did any ear training.”

The man looked like he didn’t believe her.  “I apologize if I’m being repetitive, but I want to make sure I understand.  Your grade for the ear training course, an A, was based simply on the occasional in class example you sang or took dictation on?”

Sandra looked at him.  Yeah, I guess he’s right… as much as I wish he weren’t.

She nodded.  “I guess so.”

“Very well, then.”

The president looked around.  Another woman turned to Sandra.

“Dear, what is said in this room will remain anonymous and confidential.  Do you have anything you wish to add about your relationship with Dr. Dobra as a student and teacher, that was not already asked of you?”

“No.”

“Take your time.  Make sure you have told us everything.”

Sandra pretended to think.  “I’ve told you all of my interactions with him.”

The woman nodded at last, seemingly disappointed.  President Jensen turned to Sandra.

“We appreciate your answers, Sandra.  You are free to go.  If we have further questions at a later date, we will contact you.”

She didn’t move.  “Can I ask what is happening?”

Dr. Jensen shook his head.  “I’m sorry.  We are dealing this matter very seriously, and confidentially.  At the moment, we cannot provide any information, pending our investigation.”

“How long is your investigation?”

“As long as it takes,” said the first woman who interviewed her.

Sandra got the feeling that her allowance of questions was over, so she stood and left, unnoticed by all except the thin man and the woman next to her.

It’s her that’s wearing the nasty perfume…

She didn’t like the way they were looking at her, at all.  It made her suddenly feel angry.  Very angry…

Sandra was sitting gloomily in her fourth level theory class that afternoon when her mood sank even lower.  The thin man who had interrogated her in the morning meeting was none other than the Wilcox that Richard had warned her about. 

Even though he appeared outwardly not to notice her, she was obviously foremost in his mind.  No sooner had the classroom quieted, than he called her to the board.

Sandra walked up, trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. 

What if Dobra was wrong about me…?

“Harmonic dictation, Ms. d’Arcy, if you please.”

Sandra grabbed a piece of chalk and waited, keeping her expression blank.

“Do you have a note for me?” Wilcox asked expectantly.

“What?”

“A note?”

Sandra turned to the board and wrote up an F.  Then she shrugged at him.  The class erupted in laughter, but was quickly silenced by Wilcox’s violent glare.

“You missed five theory classes this week, including counterpoint.  Do you have a note of excuse?”

“My friend died,” Sandra said quietly.

“I only allow two absences in my class per quarter.”

Sandra stared at the floor, feeling very uneasy at his tone.  What’s his problem?

She decided to try and lighten the mood, despite the simmering resentment she was feeling.

“Two per quarter…  That means four per semester.  I’ve never missed another class, so I think I should be fine.”

Wilcox stood and came around the piano, getting close to her.  He erased the note she had written. 

“I make the rules, Sandra.  And I do not appreciate disrespect.  I expect an excuse note in my mailbox by tomorrow, or you can return to second level theory.”

Sandra suddenly started to feel ill again.  Her hand shook as Wilcox returned to the piano. 

Wilcox spoke quietly.  “Four…  sharp… voices… middle…”  Only a few words cut through the roaring in her ears.

Then he was playing.  Sandra just listened distantly, unable to focus. 

The man is a complete bastard.  Richard had been right.

Wilcox was looking at her expectantly when her mind returned to the classroom.

“Again,” he said. 

Wilcox repeated the chord progression.  Sandra again ignored it.  She glanced out at the students in the class.  They were looking back and forth between Wilcox and Sandra.  Some stared, and others looked at her expectantly.  All of them knew Sandra needed only one hearing, perhaps two on an off day.

“Third time,” he said, his voice taking on an almost gleeful quality as he stared at the empty board.

Sandra watched him as he repeated the chord progression.  The idiot played a different bass note there, this time, she thought absently.

In the middle of the last phrase, she wrote up another F note, and then put the chalk down.  She was back in her seat when Wilcox sounded the final chord.  A murmur spread through the room.

“What is that?” Wilcox said, suddenly flustered.  “Is that another joke?”

“It’s a grade.” 

Your grade…

Wilcox looked at it, and then shook his head.  He started to speak, but then looked out at the class.  Perhaps his words would have been too harsh to voice in public, because he seemed to catch himself.

“Who has it?” he barked at last. 

No one moved.

“Anyone?  You are supposed to take the dictation as well!”

Still no one moved.

He laughed and walked back to the piano.  “Well, that makes it easy for me.  That was a quiz.  And Sandra kindly provided your grade.  Easy to remember:  F for everyone.”

Wilcox returned to the piano.  “When I play, you write.  Simple as that.  We’re not here to gawk at those foundering at the board.”

He took a deep breath.  “Melodic dictation.  Three-four, in G.  Starting note is G above middle C.”

Sandra didn’t even bother taking out a piece of paper.  She just sat there, ready to snap if he bothered her again.

With about twenty five minutes remaining, Wilcox suddenly dismissed everyone.  The class emptied in an instant.  Sandra found herself called to remain behind, and expected it.  She had almost remained seated.

She turned back and walked slowly to the piano, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

“Can you explain yourself?”

“Explain what?”

“What was the meaning of that ridiculous act at the board?”

“I missed the key and the meter,” she said simply. 

“Why did you not ask me to repeat it?”

“Dr. Dobra never would repeat that information,” Sandra said, looking shocked at his suggestion.

Wilcox seemed to get angry at the sound of Dobra’s name, and the unfavorable comparison.

“You wasted five minutes of my class,” he said. 

“Sorry.”

“Why didn’t you try the dictation anyway?”

Sandra grew tired of answering his questions.  I’ll just fuck with him, she thought.  She didn’t know where that thought came from, but it came.  He’s obviously out to get me, since he’s out to get Dobra.

“You said this morning you found it hard to believe I could do this level of ear training.  Maybe you were right,” she said.

Wilcox shook his head in confusion.  “What are you saying?”

“Nothing.  If you want me to go back down to second level, where I belong, I will go.”

Wilcox considered her.  “Is that what you want?”

“Whatever.”

He nodded slowly.  “Very well.  Then I’ll see you at one, instead of three.”

Sandra looked up.  “What?  No, I want to take the ten o’clock class with Ms. Connelly.”

“No, no.  You will be in my class,” he said dismissively.

Sandra drew herself up.  “I won’t.”

“Then you will no longer be a student here.  Anyone who fails to complete the four semester theory requirement by the end of their third year is expelled.”

“Then I have the next two years to finish the fourth level course,” Sandra said calmly.  “I’ll just drop this semester, and take it later.”

“Oh no, no, no… You can’t drop at this stage of the semester.  You can switch to my second level class; I’ll allow that.  If not, then I’ll be forced to give you an F for this class.  You will then have only one more chance.”

Sandra almost laughed at his pitiful words.  He was like a thin little slug.

“Fine.  I’ll just stay in this class,” she said tiredly.

Sandra was surprised to see Wilcox suddenly grin.  She wasn’t sure she liked it.

“Is that your decision then?  You demonstrated your abilities rather poorly today.  I would be very worried.”

“I’ll take my chances,” she said, committing to her words.

Wilcox considered her, his lips in a tight smile.  “Very well.  Please go to the board, then.”

“What?”

“Consider this a makeup exam for the midterm which you so conveniently were allowed to skip.”

Sandra just stared at him.

“Melodic dictation twelve eight G sharp minor starts on A below middle C,” he reeled off.

Then he started playing.  For most of the melody, Sandra watched him with an incredulous smile spreading across her face.  The melody was long, and wandered aimlessly. 

How ugly… Nothing like the little jewels Dobra plays for us…

She imagined shoving the piano and pinning him against the wall as he finished.

“What’s so amusing, Ms. d’Arcy?  If you fail the midterm, you fail the course.”

Sandra sighed.  “Why do you hate me?”

“Hate you?  I have no such feelings towards you.  You, however, have shown your disrespect for me many times already in less than forty minutes.  And let us not forget your unhelpfulness this morning.”

“Who are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why are you at Wexford?  I’ve never seen you before.”

“I was called in to assist with the investigation of Dr. Dobra.  Now if you please, I suggest you pay attention to the exam, and perhaps you can salvage something other than a failing grade.”

He stared at her. 

“Are you with me?” he asked.

Sandra laughed a bit wildly. 

“This will be a fun semester,” she said giddily. 

I think I’m going to be sick…

“I will play the melody a second time,” Wilcox said, ignoring her remark.

“Don’t even bother,” she shot back. 

You wouldn’t even be able to play it the same way, you stupid fuck…

He eyed her suspiciously as she went to the board. 

“What, another joke?” he asked, smirking.

Wilcox had gone way too far.  She knew what was going on.

 “Oh, absolutely,” Sandra said, taking the chalk and drawing up the clef and signatures in perfect script. 

She wondered where this aggressiveness inside her was coming from.  She wasn’t sure she liked it, but her wits were so frayed that she couldn’t control it. 

Wilcox rose from the piano, walked to his desk and began putting away his things. 

“I don’t have time for games, Ms. d’Arcy,” he said, his back to her.

Sandra was only vaguely aware of his angry tone. 

“You are welcome draw up your little jokes, but I am leaving.  You are also welcome to sit through my class, but at this point it would be a complete waste of your time since you will not pass…  I’m not sure where you gained the disrespect you are showing me, but it’s completely uncalled for.  You clearly entered into a situation with Dr. Dobra that was beyond your control.  I saw it years ago, and the man is clearly still at it.  It was only a matter of time before he got caught.  He should have stopped.  But no!  Old habits die hard.  And now you think it’s funny… Funny!”

Wilcox was done packing, and he turned and spoke to her with bitterness full in his voice.  “It’s quite clear that he strung you along, waiting for the proper mome – the p-prop-  proper…”

Sandra smiled sweetly as she put down the chalk and turned to face him.

“Shall we do a harmonic dictation?” she asked cheerily.  “Dr. Wilcox…?  Are you with me?”

Sandra marched into the office of President Jensen.

“I’m here to see Dr. Jensen,” she demanded.

“Well, what…He’s…” stammered the secretary.

Sandra leaned closer and raised her brows at her.  The secretary looked scared.  Hell, I’d be scared if I had a mirror…

She pressed a button.  “Dr. Jensen?”

“Yes?” came the voice over the speakerphone.

“There’s… someone here to see you?”

“Who is it?”

“Someone with information about Dr. Dobra,” Sandra said loudly.

There was no response.  Then Dr. Jensen opened his door and looked out.  He recognized her, and nodded.

“Sandra, correct?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to hesitate, and then opened the door wider.  “Come in, please.”

Sandra followed him in.  Dr. Jensen walked around and sat behind his desk. 

Sandra was immediately greeted by the awful odor of perfume she had endured that morning.  She was not surprised to see that the woman who was first to question her earlier was sitting in the office.

“Please sit.”                                                                                        

Sandra ignored the offer.

“I have something I wish to say about the situation with Dr. Dobra.”

“Very well.  We are reconvening again tomorrow.  What time would be convenient?”

“Now.  I don’t have time to wait.”

“I really think the panel should hear this,” he said expectantly, gesturing to the woman.  “Only two of us are present.”

“Then you can paraphrase for them.”

Dr. Jensen frowned.  “Hold on.” 

He punched a button on his phone, and called his secretary in. 

“Sue, can you record something for later transcription?  Sandra would like to make a statement.”

The secretary nodded, and then went to retrieve a recorder.  Sandra paced around as she waited for it to be set up.

“Go ahead,” Dr. Jensen said at last.

Sandra began immediately. 

“I was asked this morning, during questioning, if I ever was made to feel uncomfortable in my theory class.  And I said no.  But I would like to change my answer, because the truth is, there has been one situation where I felt extremely uncomfortable.  I was judged and threatened because I was momentarily unable to perform at a suitable level for the class.”

Sandra almost laughed as she saw the woman leaning in.  She’s going to start drooling at any moment now…

“Unfortunately, this circumstance happened not with Dr. Dobra, but with the man who has replaced him for his classes.”

Dr. Jensen only frowned slightly.  For a moment, the woman seemed to not hear.  Then she began to turn red as Sandra continued.

“This man, named Wilcox, insulted my abilities, threatened to fail me, and threatened to demote me to second level theory.  And this was after having known me for perhaps forty minutes.  To my further surprise, this man is also on the committee which questioned me this morning.  Not only did he insinuate that my theory abilities were suspect during the questioning, but he suggested that Dr. Dobra acted inappropriately as a teacher.  All of this without having known me at all.

“It’s surprising, because if I was to compare Dr. Dobra to this man, I would expect Wilcox to be the subject of investigation, not Dr. Dobra.  Besides his threats and judgments, Wilcox is totally incompetent as a teacher.  His in-class examples are lacking all musicality.  He often plays things differently, when they need to be repeated exactly.  He – ”

“That’s enough!” the woman yelled.  “Who are you?”

Sandra held her ground, even though she was shocked at the furious response.

The woman stood, and came around the desk  “Who are you, to speak of Dr. Wilcox like this?  This is your statement?”

She yanked up the microcassette recorder and fumbled with the buttons, unable to make it stop.  At last she threw it back on the desk in disgust, as the red light continued blinking.

“Where do you get off making these accusations against a well respected member of the musical community?”

“You said you wanted the truth,” Sandra said evenly.

“Truth!  This sounds like a lie.  I’m going to tell you what happened here.”

“Joanna,” Jensen warned.

She ignored him, and set the recorder in place again.

“You were taken by Dr. Dobra.  Perhaps you even told the truth when you said he hadn’t made advances to you yet.  But he was paving the way.  Conveniently, he moved you to a higher level class, where you would be out of your league.  Conveniently, he had you skip the exams.  You are lucky someone else blew the whistle, or you would have been next!”

Sandra stood stone faced.

“Of course it was coming,” the woman continued, a little less angry now.  “A pretty young girl, like you…  People fail the theory requirement here at Wexford more often than you think.  There are no second chances after that.  Would you have failed?  Or would you have succumbed to his offer?”

Sandra looked her in the eye.  “Neither.”

“You are foolish, child,” Joanna cried.  “You know so little of the situation, and yet you come storming in like you have seen the world in your palm.”

“I know what I just saw in that classroom ten minutes ago,” Sandra said defiantly.  “That man Wilcox – ”

“Doctor Wilcox!  You are foolish, and disrespectful…”

“He is the one who is disrespectful!” Sandra interrupted.  The anger inside of her had come loose.  “He has some sort of vendetta against Dr. Dobra.  He dismissed the class early today so he could give me a makeup midterm, with no notice!”

“Appropriate, given your lack of previous examinations.  Tsk, tsk.  Dr. Dobra’s golden child suddenly out on her own, and the exams are not so easy as she is used too…”

“I’ll take any test you want,” Sandra retorted.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I did!  I took his midterm, right then.  He’s so dumb he couldn’t even remember what he played to know if I got it right!”

“I will not listen to this!” the woman cried out, turning to Dr. Jensen.  “I will not listen to her insult my… Arghh!”  She stood there, breathing hard, looking at Sandra with hatred.

“Who are you?” Sandra asked.  “Why are you on Wilcox’s side?”

Sandra suddenly noticed the secretary smiling up at her.  She dismissed the incongruous image and looked at the woman again. 

She didn’t like the look she saw in her eyes.

Joanna shook her head at Sandra in disgust.  “You really are foolish.  I am on the board at Wexford.  Your old school.  We do not need insolent, talentless students at this institution.  I will see to that.”

Sandra felt her gut wrench tight, and her knees felt weak.  On the… board…?  Shit, now I’m in for it…

“Do you have anything else to say?” the woman spat.

“Does it matter?” she managed.

“No.”

Sandra looked at Dr. Jensen.  He looked back at her seriously, but did not appear to be angry.  Sandra even thought he seemed ashamed.

“I’ll just say this…  If anything happens to me, or to Dr. Dobra, I’m coming out with what I know.”

The woman chuckled.  “And what exactly do you know?”

Sandra just whirled around and walked out.

“You will not be here long, Ms. d’Arcy…” she heard the woman mutter.

She was just about to enter the hallway when she heard the secretary’s voice faintly speaking.

“Mrs. Warner, shall I transcribe the tape?”

“No, I’ll take it.  How do you stop this infernal machine!”

The door to Dr. Jensen’s office closed.  Sandra suddenly went back in to the secretary’s office and glanced at her desk.  The sight of a booklet titled ‘Faculty Directory’ gave her an idea. 

I might be kicked out of Wexford anyway, she thought, and grabbed the booklet before rushing off to her room, barely able to walk from the anxiety.

“Dr. Dobra?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Sandra.  Sandra d’Arcy.”

“Sandra…?  You… You should not be calling me.  I’m forbidden to speak with students at Wexford for the moment.”

“What’s going on?”

“I’m under investigation.  Surely you have heard?”

“Yes.  But why?”

Dr. Dobra seemed to hesitate.  “I really can’t, Sandra.  I can’t afford any mistakes at this point.”

“What does Joanna Warner have against you?”

“Sandra…”

“Please, I need to know.  Something is very wrong…”

Dobra sighed.  “I can’t talk to you, Sandra.  If somehow this conversation is discovered, I’m done.  You might be, too.”

“I already am.”

“What?  What are you talking about?” Dobra’s voice suddenly gained a little life.

“I got into a big argument with Mrs. Warner.”

“About what?”

“About your situation.”

“Sandra…  Why?  Why did you become involved?  How?”

“I was called in.  They thought our arrangements on the exams were suspicious.  They were expecting me to admit you had blackmailed me with an A.”

“Oh no.  Jesus…  What did you tell them?”

Sandra paused.  “The truth, of course.”

“I’m sorry…  But what do you mean, you are already finished?”

“I think she’s going to have me kicked out.”

“No…”

“She threatened.  Can she?”

“She is a big donor, and on the board.  I don’t know.”  Dobra’s tone was quiet.

“Well, she was pretty clear about it.”

“I wish I could say there was something I could do, but I’m hardly in a position of power there at the moment.  What a nightmare…”  Dobra’s voice was emotional, and it took Sandra aback for a moment.

“How do you know her son?” she asked, regaining her senses.

“Her son?” Dobra asked.

“Wilcox.”

“I don’t know him.  I first saw him when I met with the panel to be questioned.  Sandra, I really must hang up.”

“Dr. Dobra…  You’ve helped me all year.  I need your help again.”

“My help?”

“I’m looking at expulsion, unless you can help me.”

“Sandra…”

“They’re out to get you.”

“Joanna has been, ever since I joined the faculty at Wexford.  She put up a fight when I was up for being hired, but she was new and didn’t have the clout she has now.  What does that prove?  It’s nothing new.”

“Don’t you think it’s suspect that one of the panel members is also in line to take over your job?  Wilcox is a bad man.”

“Welcome to the politics of a conservatory.  They said he was brought in because he’d be impartial.  I’m sure Joanna had nothing to do with that decision.”

“He’s incompetent, and about the opposite from impartial.”

“Sandra, I can’t do anything.  My hands are tied.  I have no friends there at the moment.  No one wants to touch this, in case they rule against me, which is very possible.”

“Wilcox knows you from a long time ago.”

Dobra paused.  “He maybe looked familiar, but…  I don’t think so.”

“No.  He was going on about how this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you act inappropriately.”

Dobra paused again.  “What’s his first name, again?”

“Allan.  He got his doctorate at UCLA, in piano.  Some other students said he was going on about it the first day, for ten minutes.”

Dobra sighed.  “This is all intriguing, Sandra, but how does this help either of us?”

“Go and tell the panel what is going on.”

“Tell them what?”

“This is a revenge tactic.”

“Sandra…  This investigation is not about me and Joanna Warner, or her son.  Even if it is revenge, for god knows what, that’s not why I’m in this situation.”

“But if you can show that they are out to make you go down…”

“Then what?  At very best, they’ll take them off the panel.  At worst, they’ll think it’s an attempt to deflect the attention away from me, and then I’m really finished.  Either way, I’m still facing the same investigation.”

Sandra let out a frustrated breath.  She suddenly felt like the air had been knocked from her…  It all made so much sense, just a minute ago…

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

Dobra’s voice was resigned now.  “I guess it’s kind of late now, to worry about this conversation having happened.  Go ahead.”

Sandra took a deep breath. 

“Did you do what they’re accusing you of?”

Dr. Dobra hung up the phone, shaken.  When he had dialed his old friend in the UCLA piano department after talking to Sandra, he had been expecting to get the cold shoulder.  News of scandal could travel very quickly.

But the news had not reached the west coast yet. 

He had certainly not been expecting to make a few more calls and arrive at the information he just had heard.

Evan Scurly.  The Scurly family strikes again.

Now I know why Joanna Warner hates me…

He suddenly regretted not accepting Sandra’s number, but he also realized he had to be extremely careful.  It was best if they didn’t talk again.

Tomorrow I will do my part.  Hopefully, Sandra can do hers.

Richard and Emily found Sandra just as she was hanging up the phone.

“Hi, Sandra.”                                                                            

“Hey…”

Sandra seemed suddenly to be stunned, as she looked at them.

“Are you all right?” Emily asked.

“What’s wrong?”

Sandra started crying.  “I’m in trouble.”

“What?”

“I’m going to get expelled.”

“What?” Emily repeated.

“Expelled?  Why?”

Richard and Emily were suddenly kneeling before her as she sat doubled over in her chair.

“I got into an argument with one of the Wexford board members.”

Richard and Emily looked at each other, helpless.

“It was about the thing with Dobra,” Sandra added.

“But why were you in an argument?”

“I said some mean things about Wilcox.  Then I found out he’s her son.”

“He’s this board member’s son?”

“Yes.  And she then turned around and basically told me to start packing.”

“But…  There must be some mistake.  You can’t just get expelled for getting into an argument.”

“I can for failing theory.”

“But you got all As!”

“Which they can take away since I didn’t take the exams.”

“This is ridiculous!” Richard cried out.  “You can retake them.”

“It doesn’t matter.  I’m in Wilcox’s class, now,” Sandra said, resignedly.  She regained control of her tears, and wiped the free ones away.  “Who can I go to?  Dobra was head of the department.  Connelly is acting head, but she’s probably distancing herself.  Dobra said everyone is running away from him.”

Emily and Richard looked at her for a long moment.

“You talked to Dobra?”

“Yeah.  I called him.”

“Where did you get his number?”

Sandra gestured to the faculty directory that was on the desk.

“Where did you get that?”

“I stole it.”

“Stole it?”  They both looked at her like she had gone crazy.

“From the president’s office.”

Richard and Emily again looked at each other, shaking their heads.

“Sandra, what the hell happened since lunch?” Richard asked at last.

Sandra recounted everything she could remember about the afternoon.

“What did he say when he saw the melodic dictation?” Richard asked, when she related the pop midterm exam.

“He started saying it wasn’t what he had played, and said most of it was in the wrong rhythm…  He basically stuttered around for a thirty seconds, and then picked up his bag and ran out.”

“Did he know you had it right?”

“Oh, he knew.  That bastard knew exactly what had just happened.”

Sandra then told them about the meeting in the president’s office and the call with Dr. Dobra.

“Then my mom called to see how I am doing.”  Sandra suddenly laughed wildly.  “ ‘How am I doing…’  I had to hang up, and that’s when you came in.”

So much for shielding her from the Dobra situation, Richard thought, running his hand through his hair.

“This can’t be happening,” Emily said.

“It is.”

“They’re not going to expel you,” Richard said thoughtfully.  “It’s ridiculous.  You haven’t done anything wrong.  Even if they enforce the missed exams, they have to offer you a chance at retaking.  Dobra skipped the exams, not you.”

Sandra considered his words.

“Richard’s right,” Emily agreed, although her face was still a mask of shock.

“I don’t know,” Sandra said at last.  “I so do not want to be worrying about this right now.”

“Yeah, it sucks,” Richard agreed. 

There was a long moment of silence as the three of them considered the situation.

“Come on, let’s get some dinner,” Emily said gently.  “We can talk more on the way over.”

Sandra shook her head.  “I can’t.   I’m too exhausted.   And, I need to write out a statement, since my last one will never see the light.  I think Jensen was ashamed of this Warner lady.  Maybe there’s an in, with him.”

“All right, I’ll go down to Crapler and pick us up some dinner,” Emily offered.

Richard thought for a moment.

“I’ll write something too,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked.

“I’ll write a letter of support.  Maybe we can also get some other students to.”

Sandra nodded.  “I was going to ask if you would,” she said quietly.  “I promised Dobra I’d try to help however I could.”

The weekend passed slowly.  Richard and Emily practiced the Hindemith and their solo material, since Sandra was still unwilling to work on the Serenade with them until after she had a few days to get back into singing.  With the events surrounding Dr. Dobra’s investigation, her first two days back at Wexford had not resulted in any practicing at all.

Sandra seemed to spend the weekend in the practice rooms, except when she shared quiet meals with Richard and Emily at the cafeteria.  Her mood was distant.  She said she was still worried about Dr. Dobra, and still thought about Billy as well.

Growing somewhat concerned at her dark disposition, Emily and Richard took turns checking up on her.  Emily told him that Sandra would need some time and space, and Richard agreed, but he also wanted to keep an eye on her every few hours, just in case.

They always found her in a practice room, staring at her music.  She’d smile wistfully and say she was getting through her songs, slowly.

Sunday afternoon, Richard was wandering down the row of practice rooms looking for her, when his ear picked up something unusual.

Richard heard a familiar melody quietly cutting through the din of orchestral excerpts, solo runs, and exercises.  It was like a sad, graceful bird gliding just above the surface of an angry sea.

He stopped walking down the hallway, and leaned against the wall as he listened to the piano playing…  It’s the final scene of Romeo and Juliet, he suddenly realized.

He peeked in through the window, and was surprised to see Sandra at the piano.

He waited until she trailed off, and then knocked.  She didn’t appear to hear, so he quietly went in.

“Hey,” he said.

Sandra stared at the piano.  Richard looked at the music stand.  It was open to one of her songs for the recital.  He was vaguely wondering where she had learned the ballet music, when she spoke with a haunted tone.

“He was in the fire when we were listening to that part,” she said quietly.

Sandra played the melody again, and Richard fought off the urge to cry.

Again she trailed off, and Richard knelt down to embrace her. 

She melted as she began to cry in earnest.

Richard held her.  He had no idea what else to do, or say… 

Sandra eventually pulled out from his arms.  She had cried for a very long time, she knew.

“Come back to the room,” he said gently.

Sandra shook her head.  “I have to practice.”

“You look exhausted.”

“I have to practice.”

Richard waited for a long time, and then kissed her.

“I’ll come check on you in a bit, then.”

Sandra nodded, and then Richard left.

She turned to the music on the stand.  She stared through it for a long time, and then played a note on the piano.

She opened her mouth, and then closed it, as she had done countless times that weekend. 

She no longer wanted to sing. 

The art had been ripped out of her.

Richard and Emily were working at the desks later that evening. 

“I should go check on Sandra.  It’s almost eleven thirty.”

“Yeah,” Richard agreed.  “Let’s just finish this analysis and we’ll both go.”

“Okay.  What do you have for the start of the last phrase?”

Richard started to read off his chords, when the door opened.  All thought of theory instantly vanished when they saw Sandra’s face.

They shot up, but not before Sandra was already on the floor.

“Oh my god,” Emily cried.

“Sandra?” Richard said, as he picked her up and brought her into the room.

Sandra didn’t respond as he put her on the bed. 

“Richard, what’s happening?  Should I call 911?”

“I don’t know…  She is breathing.”

Sandra suddenly stirred, and opened her eyes.

“Are you okay?” Richard asked gently.

She stared up at him with stricken eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, a little more urgently.

Emily hung up the phone and knelt next to Richard.

“You just fainted,” Emily said.

Sandra started to cry. 

Richard and Emily waited, their hearts racing.

Something’s wrong.  Something’s wrong…

At last, Sandra opened her eyes again. 

Emily and Richard both felt fear.

Something was very wrong.

“I can’t do it,” Sandra whispered.

“Can’t do what?”

She looked at them, and then squeezed her eyes tight.

“I can’t do the recital.”

Richard looked at Emily, wondering if he had heard correctly.  The stunned look on her face confirmed Sandra’s words.

“Why not?”

She got expelled?

“I can’t sing.”

“You can’t sing?  What’s wrong?” Richard asked, worried. 

“Are you hurt?” Emily asked.

“I don’t want to sing.”

“What do you mean, you don’t want to?”

“I tried, all weekend.  I thought that if I locked myself in the practice rooms, I’d eventually want to sing.  But I don’t.  I can’t.  Not with everything that’s happened.”

Her voice came in spurts, between uncontrolled sobs.

“I try, but there’s nothing there.”

“It will come,” Emily said gently, feeling somewhat relieved that the problem was not permanent.  She stroked Sandra’s hair.  “Things will get better.”

“No…  I haven’t sung at all in over a week.  I can’t do the recital like this.”

“Sandra…”

“I’m sorry.  You have to do it without me.”

“Sandra, we can’t do it without you!  You are on half the program!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you come with us tomorrow morning and we’ll try the Serenade.  You just need to get back into the music.”

Sandra sat up.  “No!  Emily, it’s not going to happen.  I’ve tried.  I’m about to explode.  I feel like I’ve been run over.  Before I came into the room just now, I was in the bathroom, puking.  Last night, too.  I am so wound up it’s making me sick.  With Billy dying, and with Dobra suspended, and being threatened by that woman… that’s too much right now.  I’m freaking out about the recital!  I can’t freak out, or I’ll do something stupid!  I just can’t!”  Sandra frantically gripped at the sheets on the bed.

“Sandra, calm down!  Dobra is not gone yet.  And who knows what that woman will do?”

“She’s on the board!  And Dobra’s probably going to go down.  It’s his word against some student’s.  With Wilcox and his mother out to get him, he has no chance.  And neither do I!” 

Richard and Emily looked at each other.  Emily was crying, now.

“You just need to rest,” Richard said gently.

“I need to be alone.”

“Sandra…”

“I’m not doing the recital!” she said, her voice edgy.

“We can’t do it without you!”

“Then we have to cancel it.”  As she said it, she again cried in anguish.

“Sandra, please, let’s just talk.”

“I can’t.  I just need to have some time to myself right now.”

“We’re not leaving you alone.”

There was a momentary standoff.

After some time, Sandra rose from the bed and stepped between them.  She sat at her desk, put her head down, and cried.

Richard had his hands on his forehead, as he struggled to remain calm.

Be strong for Sandra, he reminded himself.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

Be strong.  For her.  For us…

He pulled on Emily, and she reluctantly followed him out of the room.  They went down the stairs.  Since no one was in the common room, they took to a couch and spoke in quiet voices.

“We have to give her time, like you said,” Richard said.

Emily’s expression was pained.  “But after everything we’ve been through?  Cancel?”

“Sandra is more important than the recital.  I hate to say this, but I kind of wondered if this was coming.”

Emily eventually nodded, understanding.  It didn’t make it easier, though.

“Me too,” she admitted.

“Here’s my idea.  I’ll stay in my room tonight, just so she’s not feeling crowded up in your room.  You just keep an eye on her, let her have some time.  Maybe the morning will bring fresh perspective.”

Emily sighed resignedly.  “I sure hope so.  And if not?”

Richard looked off in the distance.  “She’s been through a lot, Em.  Too much, obviously.  When I found her in the practice room this afternoon, I knew she had snapped.  We need to do what’s best for her.  So if she’s still feeling the same way in the morning…”

Richard fought to whisper the verdict.

“Then, we cancel.”

Monday morning, Emily woke up, and found Sandra still sitting at her desk.  She wondered if Sandra had even slept. 

Emily had had a fitful night.  Every time she woke and glanced at the desk, Sandra was there, holding her head in her hands and staring off.

Maybe she’s reconsidered.  Maybe Richard was right.  A night of thinking may have done her well.

“Hey,” Emily said gently.

Sandra just turned her red eyes to her for a moment, before staring at the desk again.

Maybe not.

“Did you sleep?”

Sandra just shrugged.

Emily looked at the clock as she sat up.  “Are you going to eat before going to class?”

Sandra ignored the question.

“Can we talk about last night?”

No answer.

“Are you still feeling the same way?  About the recital?”

Sandra took a breath.  “I’m not doing it.  I can’t, Emily.  And I can’t discuss it anymore.  Otherwise, I’m going to go insane.  Maybe I already am.”

“Sandra, come on…  I know you’re hurting.  I know you are feeling like you are being crushed by the world.  But, you need to go on!”

“Just stop, Emily.  I can’t deal with that, now.  I can’t play music in this state.  I haven’t sung in a week and a half.”

“We can’t cancel the recital, Sandra.  Not after all the work we’ve done!   I mean, all our families are coming.  My dad is coming.  Allison is flying from Australia, partly for this!  We can’t just call them and tell them to cancel their plans!  I can’t do it, Sandra!  I can’t!”

“Then I will,” Sandra said, standing up and gathering her things. 

Emily groaned in frustration.  “Why will you not let us help you through this?  We love you!”

Sandra took a deep shuddering breath.  She whispered, “I’m just not able to talk.  I can’t right now.  It hurts too much.  I don’t want to feel love, yet.”  Her voice grew thin and distraught.  “I can’t mix in another emotion right now, or it will tear me to shreds!”  

She looked at Emily for a long moment.  “I just can’t,” she whispered.

Sandra looked around, and grabbed her Verklaerte Nacht score and baton, and zipped up her bag.  “I need to go.  If I’m going to go by the events office before German, I can’t go to breakfast.”

Emily put out a hand as Sandra walked towards the door.

“I’ll do it, Sandra,” Emily said resignedly, her voice shaking even more than her arm.  “Just please, go eat.  You have hardly eaten.  Just, let me do it.  You don’t need to go through this, in your state.  I’ll go down now, and cancel it.”

Sandra nodded after a moment. 

Emily looked at her one last time.

“Sandra, if I cancel this slot, there’s no changing our minds later.  There’s a waiting list twenty deep of people waiting for hall time in April.  Our spot will turn into someone else’s recital within the hour.”

Sandra didn’t move.

“I’m not doing the recital,” she said with grim finality.

Emily sighed, feeling like someone had shaken her insides up violently.  Parts of her floated in places where they shouldn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Sandra said, her voice cracking. 

Then she pushed by and disappeared.

Emily moved to the window, watching the gentle rain patter on her window.  Sandra eventually appeared, walking slowly towards the cafeteria, oblivious to the weather.

With a heavy heart, Emily put on her clothes and walked over to the conservatory.  So this is it, then…

Sandra had thought she had plumbed the depths of pain and sorrow within her.  She thought she had found the lowest level of her soul, the dark flat place where she now wandered.

She was walking from piano class to the practice rooms in a trance, when she saw it on the bulletin board where the upcoming recitals were posted. 

In thin black letters, someone had written CANCELLED on their recital program. 

Someone had officially desecrated her dream with a felt tip marker.

She tore at the sheet, ripping it from the board and crumpling it up violently.  She was vaguely aware of stares from the few people who saw the act, but she had no other thought for them.

Even though she knew Emily was going to cancel it, it hadn’t really hit her until then.  She hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to see months of hope, excitement, and hard work be abandoned. 

Months of love, destroyed.

All in an instant.

Forward to Chapter 32

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