Opus One

Chapter 32: Schwer betont

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

Gary Menlos scanned the rehearsal room from his usual back corner spot. 

“Mark,” he said, nodding his head at the principal cello player.  “Go ahead.  Take it from the beginning.”

Mark set his cello aside and walked up to the podium with his baton. 

Gary waited as Mark flipped the score back to the first page.  He looked around again, surprised at the turnout.  A number of string players had shown up for the practice orchestra.  He had hinted yet again, at the last full orchestra rehearsal, that anyone who came to the conducting class to play would perhaps gain a little edge when it came time to determining the seating for the final orchestra concert.  Obviously the promise of Shostakovich Five stimulated them…

Mark began to conduct, pulsing out a slow rhythm for the low strings.  As they had already a dozen times, the cellos and basses played their descending lines. 

Gary watched Mark for a minute.  Then he called out over the orchestra and they stopped.

“Hey, hey!  You need to cue your concertmistress Suzanne, there!  I know you play the cello, but at least try to give everyone else a little attention?”

Everyone tittered. 

Gary held out a silencing hand.  “I know Suzanne knows this piece like the back of her hand, since she just performed it in Europe, but still…”

Mark checked the score.  “Sorry.  How about we go from…”

“Just start again,” Gary interrupted.  “Get them involved more!  You’re just following them, Mark.  It’s supposed to be the other way around!”

Mark looked at him, and then nodded.  He started again. 

Gary sighed quietly.  As great as a cellist Mark was, he had no idea how to conduct.

Gary let him go for a few minutes, resisting the urge to stop him again.  Right before the piece turned livelier, he whistled. 

“All right, not bad.  Not great, but not bad either.  Don’t do this to them,” he said, demonstrating an opening fist that Mark had used to cue a few entrances.  “We’re not playing catch here.”

More laughter ensued, and even Mark joined in with a chuckle. 

Gary knew he could take it.  He’d watched Mark grow as a musician for four years.  He already had assigned him to the principal cello part for the Shostakovich concert. 

“Okay, okay.  This is serious music, here,” he said, over the amused noises of the musicians.  “Let’s keep going.”

He again scanned the room.  He looked to the other corner for perhaps the tenth time. 

How strange…  Usually she was eagerly looking at him, yearning to be called up to conduct.  Not everyone got a chance every class, but she was always willing.  Today, she was just staring down at her lap at a crumpled piece of paper.  Her baton was not in her hand as it always was lately.  Her face was a mask.

He vacillated for a moment, and then called her name anyway.

“Sandra.  Can you continue from where we stopped?”

For a moment, she didn’t seem to hear him.  Then she nodded once, and took out her baton from her bag.  As she walked slowly to the podium, Gary almost called her out about how droopily she was walking, and how uninspiring that was to the waiting musicians.  Something made him check his words, though.

Sandra arrived at the podium and stared down at the score.

Bows were positioned impatiently, even before she made any movement.

At last she sighed, her mind clearly somewhere far away.  She held up her baton, and looked up.  Gary thought her eyes were unusually tired.

She gave a few tentative pulses and the orchestra responded unevenly.  Before a few measures had even passed, Sandra had dropped her hands.  The orchestra petered out.

“Sorry,” she said, almost inaudibly. 

Gary watched her for a moment, considering dismissing her from the podium.  Something was sorely affecting her.

“Hear it before you start!” Gary finally called out, pacing around in the back.  He’d give it one more try.  Maybe the music would distract her.

Sandra just stared silently.  Then, slowly, she flipped pages, moving deeper into the score.

Gary watched patiently, not sure what she was doing.

“Schwer betont,” Sandra announced quietly.  “From there, please.”

There was a moment of confusion, and then the players turned to the later section in their parts.

When Sandra looked up, Gary nodded as he recognized the music in her exhausted eyes. 

With a decisive hand, Sandra started them.  The entrance was feeble, but this time it was not Sandra’s fault.  She stopped them immediately, holding out a hand. 

“Schwer betont,” she repeated, looking at them one by one.  “Again, please.”

This time they responded by digging into the strings with their bows.  Sandra asked for more with a ‘come hither’ wave of her fingers.  She turned to each section, cueing and leading them through this forceful part of the music. 

Gary watched her closely.  There was a mix of sadness and pain in her eyes which even he could see from the back corner.  He could also see how it was affecting those in the front rows of the orchestra.  They had stopped staring in ennui at their music, and were suddenly following her instead.  Maybe it was the fact Sandra had skipped forward to a section they had not already played ten times, but Gary thought it was more than that.

As the music grew introspective again, Sandra slowed the pacing.  The violin arpeggios were almost too drawn out, Gary thought at first.  They were too slow compared to what came before, but then Sandra balanced it by holding the chords that followed to match that feeling. 

She wasn’t just beating time, but actually shaping the phrases consciously.  He realized he was too used to watching the metronomic hand waving of the other students. 

This is quite good…

She was beginning to pull music out of them he had thought impossible, in this laid back, informal situation.

With a final note in the low instruments, she let the section fade away as she lowered her hands. 

There was a long moment of silence.

“Well, keep going,” Gary said quietly, his voice carrying over the orchestra.

Sandra shook her head, her face suddenly emotional.

That’s it, then…?

Suddenly, a low rumble grew in the room as the orchestra quietly applauded her with their feet, having enjoyed her work.

Sandra looked around, unsure whether to return to her seat.

“Keep going,” Gary repeated louder, not letting the opportunity pass.

While it was his usual practice to have one person go for no more than a handful of minutes if they had things under control, he didn’t care at the moment.

The quiet rumble continued, growing a little louder until Sandra straightened and held her hands up.  She never smiled, but at least seemed a little more alive as she looked at them.  The orchestra readied themselves immediately.

“Sehr breit,” she whispered.

At the sound of the first held chord, Gary shivered.  Sandra slowly led the musicians through the chorale section, and then swayed slightly as she cued the call and responses between the cellos and the solo violin.

This is sublime…

Gary caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.  He glanced over at the door to the rehearsal room, which had been left open.  Two students were peeking in to watch, instrument cases on their backs. 

Gary waved them in, and then a few more people came in behind them, drawn in by the sound of the performance.

He waved them in as well, and then he turned back to the orchestra, moving closer to Sandra by stepping amidst the last row of violinists.

Gary felt his gut tighten, realizing his favorite section of the piece was coming up.  He’d not assigned going this far, not wanting people to butcher it.

He held his breath as Sandra left a couple of seconds of silence hanging in the air, before the ethereal part that was to follow. 

Ever so gently, she cued the tender harmonics and double ascending string lines.  With one hand she then established the pizzicato off-beats, while leading the violins through their floating, airy figures. 

Gary shuddered at the look in her eyes as she turned to cue the solo violin for its melody. 

Sandra looked at Suzanne directly.  Her eyes begged for everything she had.

Suzanne responded exquisitely, playing the high melody above the shimmering orchestra part.  Sandra’s right hand and baton kept the delicate accompaniment on pace, while with her left hand she pulled on Suzanne as if with an invisible string.  He could almost see the sparks between Sandra and Suzanne as they danced, their eyes fixed on each other’s. 

Waves of emotion washed through Gary’s body as he watched and listened.  Then Sandra turned and cued Mark for his answering lines on the cello.  Sandra’s duet with Suzanne turned into a trio as the orchestra supported the ecstatic moment with its gentle arpeggiated filigree.  Again Sandra begged for more with her left hand.

For a while, Sandra closed her eyes as the music swirled around her.  Gary looked around, wondering if he was the only one who felt like crying.  Every person in the room was riveted, including even more visitors now crowding in near the door.

She had released herself to the music.  It was all her, now.  Despite not playing a single instrument or singing a single note, she was making the music in the room happen.

The piece moved forwards, and Gary dared not stop her.  He just watched, wondering if he was really seeing this happening. 

He knew early on that Sandra had some talent.  That much had been clear, despite her first fumbling attempts at conducting.  Even today, there were moments when she made some mistakes in her patterns, or forgot a cue, Gary admitted.  It was far from technically perfect.  The orchestra had mostly covered it, though, caught up by her performance. 

She had obviously practiced hard on her conducting this semester.  But this?  The passion, the abandon…  That could not be learned, ever…  Gary could teach the ‘how’ of conducting, but no one in the world could teach the ‘why’.

The players responded increasingly to her urging looks as her passion began to spread throughout the room over the next few minutes.  She pushed them up through a wild section, and then relaxed as the music retreated once more, still unwilling to reach a full peak.  Many times, she would look urgently at Suzanne, pressing her for more and more feeling, which made Suzanne’s first violin section follow accordingly.  This in turn drove the other musicians to dig deeper with their bows as well.

The area by the doorway was now packed with people.  Students, teachers, and administrators alike had peered in from the hallway to see what had caused the gathering crowd, only to find themselves drawn into the room and rooted to the floor by the scene.  A few violin players had even taken out their instruments and joined the orchestra in the back row, reading over the shoulders of those in front of them.

The music built up again, and Sandra drove them into a frenzy.  The orchestra threatened to shake the rehearsal space apart as the climactic moment approached.  Sandra broadened her stroke, drawing out the long chords as they reached the moment of bliss.  She seemed to grow taller as the resonance of the music swept through her like a raging flood. 

The musicality was so clear in everything she did, and her melodic sense was so overwhelming, that she even stopped moving her arms for a few ecstatic measures, seemingly conducting just with a few glances and small movements of her head.

Gary found himself struggling to breathe.  His face hurt from emotion.

The music receded from its heights with great feeling.  Sandra delicately pulled an arpeggio out of Suzanne, as Mark led the cellos through the chorale melody towards the calming chord which brought resolution.

Gary held his breath, waiting for Sandra to continue.

Suddenly she dropped her hands to the podium and slumped forward, leaning on her arms for support.  She stared at the score, breathing hard. 

The orchestra stayed stone still, bows still held on strings as they waited for Sandra.  Gary sensed something was wrong, though, and ran around behind the orchestra, pushing past the murmuring spectators. 

He reached Sandra and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice trembling.

She stood and turned to him, her eyes haunted.  Her chest heaved and she was flushed red.  She shook her head slightly, her face drawn and unsmiling, as she blinked at him.

Gary looked at her for a few long moments, trying to read her eyes.  They were infinitely deep as they looked back at his. 

“Can you keep going?” he whispered urgently.

She nodded slowly.

Gary thought he knew what true amazement felt like at that moment, but then he looked down at the music stand. 

“My god…” he whispered hoarsely, taking an involuntary step back.

The score was still open to the page marked ‘Schwer betont.’

He looked at her again, and then out at the orchestra, unable to breathe.  They were still poised, every single one of them.  All around, he saw the intense faces he was used to seeing during concerts, when they were in their element and full of adrenaline.  But that was always under bright lights, in a concert hall filled with hundreds of people, and after weeks of long rehearsals. 

This had happened over the course of ten minutes in a cramped and dim rehearsal room… 

 “My god,” he whispered again, looking at Sandra. 

He moved away, stunned, almost afraid to be near her.  He had not even noticed the lack of page turns on her part, so caught up he had been by following her conducting. 

He could not remember ever being so astounded that his arms shook visibly.

From his new vantage point beside the first violins, Gary watched the musicians as they followed Sandra again, into the ‘Sehr ruhig’ section.  He was just a spectator now, part of the audience.  The last critical bit of his eye as a teacher had disappeared, and he just listened to the music unfurl for the next several minutes. 

Someone tapped him on the shoulder.  He turned slowly, for a moment growing angry at the interruption.  John Wiltshire, the head of the violin department, leaned in to him. 

Gary relaxed, glad it was not a student he disliked.

“Who is she?” John whispered, his brow knotted.

Gary got close to his ear.  “A singer.”

“A singer?  What?  Where does she conduct?”

“She’s a freshman, here at Wexford.”

John’s eyes widened in disbelief for several long moments.  Then he let out a breath and shook his head as he watched her again.  Gary was not surprised at his reaction.  He didn’t believe his own words either.

The final two minutes were sublime.  Sandra hardly moved now, keeping the orchestra at its quietest.  She again pulled on the violins with one hand as she guided them through the final melody of resolution.

The last two chords came gently, as if eternal peace had been found.  Together, they lasted for almost a minute.  With infinitesimal control, Sandra took them down to silence.

For five long seconds, they were all in a world without sound.  Sandra had her hands lowered in front of her, staring down at something that was not in the room.

Then she turned and faced Gary, her eyes unseeing and her mouth desperately drawing for air.  Her baton slipped from her shaking hand, as if in slow motion. 

At the same instant, the room exploded in thunderous roar as musicians and impromptu audience alike stomped their feet and clapped with everything they had.    

Sandra staggered sideways, losing her footing on the edge of the podium.  Gary rushed to her as she crashed down against the wall and looked around in confusion.  The musicians who could see her stopped their stomping, suddenly concerned.  The people further away could not see, though, and they continued the uproar.

Gary grabbed at her shoulders to help her steady herself as she struggled to her feet.  Sandra shook loose and pushed past him.  The noisy crowd cleared a slight path as she ran to the door.

Gary stood rooted as she disappeared.  The applause quieted at last, as people realized she was gone and shushes spread through the room.

He looked around helplessly, as all eyes turned to him.  He reached down and grabbed her baton from the podium, his hand trembling as he touched it.

“Dismissed,” he whispered, and then he hurried out of the room.

Richard was about to do a last run through of the Bach piece he was practicing, before heading to dinner.  His mind was quite distracted, given the situation with Sandra. 

The cancellation of the recital was the least of his worries.  He was constantly thinking of her depressed and distant state, and wondering what he and Emily could do to help.  The only thing that kept coming to mind was giving her time and space, as hard as that was.

He and Emily had continued trying to keep track of her throughout the day.  Richard had found her walking back from German, and had checked to see how she was doing.  Her answer was clear in her conflicted, red eyes.  She went straight back to the dorm to sleep. 

Emily said that Sandra had been in piano class at noon, but then she had disappeared, despite telling Emily she was going to go practice.  Richard had waited by her theory class at three.  He was not surprised that she never showed up, since he doubted she would ever again step foot in a class that Wilcox was teaching.  She likely did not know that Wilcox had been replaced by Ms. Connelly for the day, both in his class and hers.  Richard did not know why, since no explanation had been offered.

Rather than begin another fruitless search of the dorm and the building, Richard instead went to practice, intending to find Sandra after conducting class.  If she was there. 

If not…

At first, he thought it was an earthquake, and he looked around his small practice room in surprise.  Then voices joined the deep rumble, and he recognized the sound of applause.

When it went on for more than a few seconds, he went out of his practice room and followed the hallways towards the sound.

Things had quieted by the time he reached the rehearsal space.  He checked his watch.  It was a little early for conducting class to be over, but people were filing out, talking loudly and grinning.  Richard recognized the orchestra conductor as he stepped out of the room in a rush and looked around quickly, before hurrying into the stairwell and disappearing.  A woman followed right after him, and also looked around before going down the hallway in the other direction.

It was a strange moment which conflicted with the mood of the boisterous crowd, but Richard dismissed it.  Maybe it wasn’t conducting class, he thought, surprised at the numbers of people he saw, and the presence of a few faculty and staff members.  It felt like a spectacle. 

Faculty awards meeting? 

He watched for Sandra, not sure if he was expecting to see her.

He entered the room as the doorway finally cleared some.  The room was set up for the orchestra, and musicians everywhere were putting away stringed instruments.  Richard approached a nearby violin player as he loosened his bow.

“What just happened?” Richard asked.

“This girl just put Mr. Menlos to shame,” he said, with a laugh.

“What?”

“She just got up there and…” He shrugged, unable to explain.

“Who?” Richard asked, a knot forming in his stomach for some reason.

“Um… I don’t remember her name right now.  Susie, or…”

“Where is she?” Richard asked, looking around again.  It seemed clear, however, that the person that had been the focus of everyone’s thunderous applause was no longer in the room.

“She ran out.  Someone said she fainted or something.”

“Did she have blonde hair?” Richard asked, his voice urgent.  “Was it Sandra?  Sandra d’Arcy?  A singer?”

The guy turned, recognition in his eyes.  “Yeah, that’s her.  She’s a singer.  She sang a few weeks ago in the class.”

Richard muttered thanks, and then ran out of the room.

Suzanne pushed the women’s bathroom door open slowly.  At first, the room was quiet, but then she heard the sharp intake of breath from the changing area.

“Sandra?” she called.

There was no answer.

Suzanne cracked open the door to one of the changing rooms, and found Sandra seated in a chair with her face in her hands.  She was quietly sobbing.

“Are you all right?” Suzanne asked, kneeling beside her.

Still there was no reply.

“Hey,” she said gently, running a hand on her back.  “Do you want me to call for help?”

Sandra at last acknowledged her with a shake of her head as she continued to cry.

“Okay.  Are you just overwhelmed?”

Sandra nodded. 

Suzanne pulled a chair over and sat next to her.

“Just relax,” she said soothingly, as she caressed Sandra’s back and hair.  “This is a tough place to go to school, no matter what you do, and no matter how you do it.”

Suzanne just waited patiently for a while.  At last, Sandra started to calm down a little.

“You were amazing back there,” Suzanne said.  “You are so easy to follow, and you bring so much out of the players.  I had chills the whole time.”

Sandra looked up out of her hands, wondering who was talking to her.  Recognition crossed her face.

“I’m Suzanne.  Your concertmistress.”

Sandra blinked at her.

“How long have you been conducting?” Suzanne asked.  “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Just since I took this class this semester.”  Her words came out strangled.

“God…  You are a natural.  You must really know this piece.  I never saw you look at the music.  Did you even use the score at all?”

Sandra didn’t immediately reply, trying to calm the shakes that still wracked her body.

“I’m Sandra,” she said at last.

“I know,” Suzanne said.  Then she laughed slightly.  “So does everyone who was in that room a few minutes ago.”

“I don’t even remember how I got here.  I don’t remember much at all after the piece ended.”

“You looked like you were going to faint, and then you ran out.”

“I don’t remember that at all.”

“You seemed possessed the whole time you were up there.  Your eyes… They were just so full of emotion.”

Sandra looked at her sadly.  “I just lost a childhood friend last week,” she said. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Suzanne said sincerely.

“And I screwed up my life yesterday.”

“What?  How?”

Sandra ignored the question.  “I kept thinking of him, and the music, and…”

“Well it came through.  Whatever you did, you were amazing.  Did you see the place packed with people?”

“I guess.”

“My teacher was even there.  It’s like word spread through the building…”

“I feel embarrassed,” Sandra said meekly.

“Embarrassed?  Why?”

“I made a fool of myself.”

“Made a fool – how?”

“It’s just a conducting class, and I took over like I thought I had my own orchestra… No one conducts that long in the class.  Why did Mr. Menlos let me go on?”

“Because he was too stunned to do anything else!  I know shock when I see it.  When he came up to the podium, when you stopped in the middle… he had a look on his face that I’ve never seen before. And I’ve watched him conduct some pretty amazing moments on stage in the last four years.”

“But all the people, and the other students…  I just wanted to conduct that middle section because it was short, and then sit down again.”

“But you went on…  Listen.  I took that class a couple of years ago, and it’s pretty damn boring to play the same thing over and over again as someone just waves their hands around.  We’d almost do better if they just started us and sat down, in many cases.  When Gary asked me to come down and be concertmistress for this session, I almost turned him down.  Two hours of repeating the same five minutes of music, with no real understanding…  Um, no thanks.  But, he’s been good to me, and I know the solo violin part really well right now, so I did it.  And, it was pretty much the same old for the first hour.”

Suzanne got closer to Sandra.  “Then, you came up.  And at first I was like, ‘This is going to be good…’  You looked pretty out of it.  I kept waiting for Gary to say something about the way you were acting dead up there, but he didn’t.  And even after you took a little control and switched us to the different section, I was still just wanting to get out of there.

“But then, you changed.  You looked like you had been up there for years.  Suddenly, I was like, ‘Hello?’  This is no run of the mill conducting student.  After a few minutes, I almost thought you were someone famous Gary had brought in to mess with us.  But you didn’t look old enough.  And yet, there you were, conducting like Solti or something.”

“No…” Sandra dismissed.  “I mess up all the time.  I can’t even get my patterns right.”

“Who cares!” Suzanne exclaimed.  “Once we’re going, we’re either ignoring the conductor, or, if they’re really good, following the music in their bodies, or in their eyes.  We’re not just there watching if you go left or right with your hands, unless it’s vital for the cue.  You left it all up there, Sandra, and we picked it up and ran with it.”

Sandra looked at her doubtfully.

“Do you remember that part after you stopped the first time?  Where there are the harmonics, and then I have a solo?”  Suzanne hummed a little of the melody.

“That’s my favorite part of the piece,” Sandra said quietly.

“Mine too!  And I’ve been playing this piece all year in a chamber group, where we have no conductor.  I lead that part, with that high melody.  But, when you cued me, I just followed your eyes.  You were probably beating time or something, but you could have been twiddling your thumbs, and I wouldn’t have cared.  You just knew exactly how to lead it, just by looking at me.  I felt chills in my spine during that part.”

Sandra had turned to her, her eyes a little brighter now.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was one of the sweetest moments playing in orchestra I’ve felt in a long time.”

“I felt it too,” Sandra said, some life creeping into her voice for the first time.  “Your playing was just… It felt like…”

“What?” Suzanne urged, as Sandra suddenly turned away.

“Nothing, it’s dumb.”

“No, tell me!”

Sandra turned back to her, considering before she spoke at last.  “I felt like I was inside of you, playing the violin with you.  It’s the first thing that’s felt right at all, in days.”

Suzanne smiled sincerely.  “Yes, and you were inside me!  I told you, I just followed you!”

Sandra breathed deeply several times.  “This is all too much.”

“What is your instrument?  Or are you here for conducting?”

“I’m a soprano.”

Suzanne laughed incredulously.  “Jeez, you mean you don’t even play in an orchestra regularly?”

“No.  I’ve never played in an orchestra, and until this semester, never conducted one.”

“That’s absolutely crazy!  No wonder Gary looked like he’d seen a ghost!  He’s probably running around the building right now looking for his next protégé.”

“No…” Sandra cried out.  “I just took this class for fun!”

“Do you sing as well as you conduct?”

“I should hope so, since I don’t know how to conduct,” Sandra deflected vaguely.

“I know you probably love singing, being a singer and all, but you should seriously look at conducting.  I mean, damn!  If you can get that out of a pickup orchestra in ten minutes, missed cues and patterns and whatever, imagine what you’d do when you tried for real.  I mean, you have talent.  When you conduct, it’s like the music is part of you.  It’s not like you’re just telling us what’s on the page, which is what everyone else in that class does, or not even.  With you, it’s coming from here,” Suzanne said, tapping her chest.  “I can’t think of anyone who wouldn’t want to play for you.”

 Sandra wiped a tear from her cheek.

“Thanks, Suzanne.”

Suzanne smiled sweetly at her, and hugged her.  “To top it off, you are also just musically gorgeous to look at.  Your face, and the way you hold arms…  when you were conducting, I thought I was seeing a beautiful vision.”

Sandra closed her eyes…

…and she shivered at Suzanne’s words. 

Sandra looked again at her sparkling eyes and smiling face close to hers.  

Who is this woman?

Her head kept saying that Suzanne was just being overly complimentary, but somewhere deep within her, something was whispering the truth. 

That moment during the piece when they had locked eyes had been extraordinary.  Feelings that she thought were gone forever were suddenly coursing through her.

Then she remembered the recital.

Sandra stood up abruptly. 

“Thanks for finding me,” she said sadly.

Suzanne stood close to her.  “Of course.  I guessed, and I got lucky.  I was worried when you fell of the podium.”

“I fell off the podium?” Sandra repeated, her face turning red.

“Pretty much,” Suzanne said, smiling apologetically.

“Now I’m really embarrassed.  I don’t even know how to walk.”

Suzanne just laughed.  “I should really go get my violin, before something happens to it.”

“Can I come back with you?  I left all my stuff there, too.”

“Of course.”

As Suzanne reached for the door to the changing stall, Sandra took her hand.

“Really, thank you for finding me.  You play amazing.  I should have said so a while ago.  You made my knees weak several times.”

Suzanne smiled, and then hugged her.  “Thanks.  But it was probably just your low blood sugar,” she said, smiling in jest.

“No, I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“I do wish I had a better violin,” she said.

“Better violin?”

“I’ve outgrown that instrument.  And during that solo, I wished I had something better, so I could give you even more.”

“You gave me everything,” Sandra said, squeezing her hand.

They stepped out of the changing room and into the bathroom.  Sandra caught sight of her blotchy face and the disarray of her hair in the mirror, and cried out.  “God, is that what I looked like up there?  No wonder people were piling into the room: to gawk at the crazy-looking girl trying to conduct!”

Suzanne laughed, as she helped Sandra put herself together again.  She was glad Sandra was showing some life.  Her depressed state did not fit her well at all. 

Still, something was clearly disturbing her.

“Do you live in the dorm?” Suzanne asked.

“Yeah.”

“Ah, sorry.  You still are suffering through the cafeteria, then.”

“Yeah.  I’ve gotten used to it, which I know is terrible.”

“I did the same,” Suzanne said knowingly.  Then she paused.  “Do you want to come over to my place for dinner?  You look like you could use someone to talk to.”

Sandra felt slightly dizzy.  Richard, and Emily…

“I shouldn’t.  But maybe…  Isn’t there an orchestra rehearsal tonight?”

“I’m not in this concert.  I’m playing the next one.  I’ll give you my number when we get our stuff.  It’s a really short walk from here.”

Sandra nodded.

Suzanne smiled again.  “All right, let’s go.”

Sandra was extremely relieved that the room was basically empty when they returned.  She was going to ask Suzanne to get her things if the class was still going on. 

Mark had remained behind and was playing from his cello part, apparently still transfixed by the music.

He looked up when they entered.

“Hey, Suzanne.  I watched your stuff for you.”

“Thanks, Mark.  That was nice of you.”

“Oh, hi,” Mark added, seeing Sandra.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.  I just got a little head rush there, and had to get some air.”

Mark nodded.  “Glad you’re all right.  That was killer,” he said, nodding to where the podium had been.  The room had been partially rearranged already.

“Thanks.”

Suzanne set about putting her fiddle away, and Sandra grabbed her bag from the corner, her head a whirl of thoughts and emotions. 

Mark played a line from his part and then looked over at her.  “Is that how you hear it?”

Sandra blinked at him.  “What?”

“Is that how you wanted it played?” he clarified.  “I’m pissed, because I messed it up.”

“You played great,” Sandra said, unclear at what he was getting at.

“Eh…  I got a little distracted watching you, and forgot to read the music closely,” he said.  “I messed up that phrase, even though you cued me right.  My fault.”  He slapped the side of his head playfully, but he also seemed genuinely disappointed.

Sandra stared at him.  “It was just a run through for class.  Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Mark laughed and looked at her incredulously.  “Just a run through… Right.”

Sandra considered saying that she hadn’t heard the mistake, even though she had.  Then she bit her tongue.  She realized how seriously Mark was taking his contribution to what had transpired earlier.  To dismiss his concern would be the opposite of what he needed. 

Maybe something special really did happen…

She still was in a daze.  Between imagining the piece as a requiem for Billy, and seeing the response of the musicians to her movements, particularly Suzanne, and having this amazing instrument of dozens of musicians at her command… the whole thing had been supremely overwhelming.  Thoughts of the loss of her recital had only magnified the feelings.

It’s no wonder she looked like she was going to faint.

She suddenly sang out the line Mark had been playing.  Mark paused from loosening the tension in his bow.

She shrugged sheepishly.  “That’s how I hear it.  But what do I know?”

Mark stared at her, and then tightened his bow again.  He put it to the strings, and played, trying to match her phrasing.  She sat next to him, singing as he played it a few times, and then listening as he explored it himself.

“Yeah,” she nodded, when he played it just right.

Suzanne was watching from her chair, smiling.  “You have a beautiful voice,” she said.

“You should have heard her a few weeks ago,” Mark said.

Sandra stared at the floor as Mark recounted her performance of the opera excerpt, culminating in her conducting while she sang.

“Now I wish I had taken this class, just to watch you,” Suzanne said, shaking her head as she grinned.  She walked over carrying her violin case, and held a paper out. 

“If you feel up for it tonight, or any other time,” she said.

Sandra folded the paper up and put in her pocket.  She nodded.  “Thanks.  For playing, and for talking.  I’ll call you.”

Suzanne smiled.  “Good.  See you, Mark.”

“Later on.”

Suzanne walked out.

Mark was putting his cello away, and Sandra suddenly felt awkward at the silence.

“You play really well,” she said at last.

“Thanks.”

“What year is Suzanne?” she asked.

“She’s in her fourth year, like me.  Why?”

“She’s really good, too.”

“She better be.  She’s going to be concertmistress of L.A. next season.”

Suzanne turned with a smile as she heard her name.

“Hey, Sandra,” she said, waiting for her to catch up.

“I would love to come over for dinner, if that’s still okay?”

“Of course.  I’m heading home now.  Do you want to walk with me?”

“Yeah.  Can you wait for a minute while I drop my books off in the dorm?”

“Sure.”

She walked beside Sandra as they exited the rear of the conservatory and made the short walk to the dorm.

“I’ll be really quick.  Just a couple of minutes.”

Suzanne sat on the steps.  “I’m in no hurry.”

In a few minutes, Sandra had returned, having left her bag behind.

“Ready?”

She nodded thoughtfully.  “I am.”

Emily jumped up at the urgent knocking, but Richard let himself in before she reached the door.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Has Sandra been here?” he asked, some nervousness touching his voice

Emily glanced at the clock.  “No.  She might still be in conducting class.”

“No,’ Richard said.  “I was just there.  Everyone was leaving.”

“I don’t know, then.”

“I went in, and someone said she fainted in the class.  It was weird though; there were like a hundred people there, and it was like a concert had just ended.”

“Maybe they had a guest conductor today?”

Richard looked her in the eye.  “One of the guys in the class said she was conducting.”

“Sandra?” 

“Yeah.  I don’t remember what he said, exactly.”

“Maybe we should go see if she’s in the dean’s office or something.  They’d probably take her there if she fainted.”

“I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes looking for her.  Except for locked studios and the bathrooms, she’s nowhere to be found.”

“I can check the bathrooms.  Maybe she got sick again.”

“Hmm… Okay, let’s go.”

Richard and Emily searched the conservatory building again, to no avail.  Several people said they had seen her back in the rehearsal room, or walking out of the building.

At last, they gave up and went back to the dorm room.

“At some point, we just need to wait it out,” Richard said, as he unlocked the door.

“I know.  But it’s hard to do anything when I’m so worried.  Look…!”

On Emily’s bed was a piece of paper.  She grabbed it.

“It’s from her.  She says she’s going to be out for a few hours.  She needs to figure some things out, and we should wait up for her.”

“Well, that’s better than nothing,” Richard said, letting out a breath.

Emily turned to him, hope in her eyes.  “Maybe she’ll be okay, after all.”

“I hope so.  I’ve never seen anyone act this way before.”

“She a highly emotional person.  You know that.”

“I know, but she still surprises me.  Sometimes I wonder what it’s like to feel like she does.”

“Me too.  I can get emotional, but with Sandra it seems to take over her existence sometimes.  When it’s a good thing, it’s incredible.  When it’s bad…”

“Yeah, I know,” Richard said quickly, not needing to hear the counter.

“Let’s just hope she finds some happiness these next few hours, wherever she is.”

Suzanne donned an apron and offered one to Sandra.  She took it, smiling back at Suzanne’s smile.

“Pasta all right?”

“Great,” Sandra answered.

“So.  Tell me what’s on your mind, while you chop those tomatoes up.”

Sandra sighed.  “Where to start…”

“Wherever you want.  I can tell you are going through a difficult time.”

Sandra sniffed.  “That just scratches the surface of it.”

She worked on the tomatoes for a moment, gathering her thoughts. 

Suzanne’s apartment felt immediately relaxing to Sandra when she had walked in.  A comfortable couch faced a small upright piano.  A few music stands stood nearby, remnants of a rehearsal.  Already she found herself able to clear some of the emotional fog which had continuously dominated her thoughts for over a week.

“Well, you pick,” Sandra finally began.  “I can start with my childhood friend and ex-boyfriend of over two years who died last week in a house fire.  Or I can talk about how some woman on the board here at Wexford is threatening to expel me because of the situation with Dr. Dobra, while her asshole son threatens to fail me out of theory.  Or I can tell you about how I just let down my two closest friends in the world, and crushed a dream we’ve had for six months…  That’s all since last Sunday, by the way.”

Suzanne had turned to her, her face sad and astonished.

“Damn…” she whispered.

“Yeah.”

Suzanne looked down at Sandra’s cutting board, and pointed to the tomatoes.  “I do still need those.  They go in next.  Can you hurry a little?”

Sandra stared at the cutting board.  The remark was absurdly incongruous.  Insensitive…? I must have imagined that she just said that…

She looked at Suzanne, and saw her sincere smile and deep eyes.  There was not an ounce of insensitivity in them.

Then Sandra started laughing.  Really laughing.  Her body froze in mid cut as she was overtaken by it.  She dropped the knife onto the tomatoes, and threw her head back.

Suzanne joined her.  They were soon sitting on the floor, backs against the cupboards, and leaning shoulder to shoulder against each other as they shook with mirth. 

Sandra wiped at her eyes, since the laughter had brought tears. 

Suzanne helped with a hand to Sandra’s cheek.  “You just got tomato seeds all over your face,” she explained, still grinning broadly.

At last, the absurd moment passed.

“Suzanne, that was the craziest thing I’ve ever heard…!”

“Sorry!” she replied impishly.

“No, it was just what I needed.  I haven’t really laughed in over a week!”

Suzanne put an arm around her.  “I can tell.  It wasn’t that funny!”

Sandra let out a last laugh and then sighed as they helped each other up.  Sandra went back to chopping tomatoes, smiling wistfully.

“Oh…  I wish I could just put all this behind me.”

“Go for it.”

“I wish.  But I can’t.  Billy, well, I can’t do anything about him.  He’s gone.  I’m coming to grips with it, as best as I can.  But this woman… and the recital…”

“Recital?”

Sandra sighed heavily.  “I had a recital planned, in April.”

“As a freshman?  You sure seem to be ahead of the game here at Wexford.”

Sandra sniggered, and turned what had to be a red, blotchy, tomato seed and tear stained face to her.  “That’s a funny thought.  Do I really look like I’m ahead of the game?”

Suzanne nodded in spite of Sandra’s stricken look.  “You have a great voice, if Mark knows anything about singing.  You conduct like… well, really incredibly.  You’re giving a recital your first year.  What else do you do?  Did you pass out of all your history and theory requirements too?”

Sandra smiled apologetically.  “I am a year ahead in theory.”

Suzanne laughed richly and waved her spoon around.  “Figures!”

“Well, that probably won’t last.”

“Why not?”

“Another long story.  My life is one long and sad story right now.  You really don’t want to hear it.  I don’t want to hear it!”

“I have all night.”

Suzanne took the cutting board that Sandra held out, and dumped the tomatoes into the sauce.

“You know Dr. Dobra?” Sandra asked.

“Of course.  I had him for six semesters of theory.”

“Really?  You took the advanced levels?”

“Five and six, yes, last year.  It was too crazy by the end, to go further.”

“Crazy?”

“We were going to be sight singing stuff that changed clefs and time signatures once or twice every measure.  It was ridiculous.  I draw the line at outright torture.”

“That does sound crazy.  Were you trying to do a theory major?”

“No, not me.  I just took the classes for… well, fun, if you can call it that.” Suzanne made a face.

“Dobra wants me to be a theory major.”

Suzanne looked at her with raised brow.  “Why not?  It’s not like you’re doing anything else at Wexford…  Jeez, Sandra!  Tell me you don’t play the violin.”

Sandra winced.

“Oh, I give up!” Suzanne cried.

“I played a little fiddle in a band back at the farm I live at.  Believe me, I do not play the violin.  At all!”

“All the same… I’m scared now!”

“Don’t be.  It’s ridiculous.  I’m being bombarded from all sides with stuff.”

“It’s nice to be loved. 

“I can’t handle any more.”

“You better hope Mr. Menlos didn’t really see what happened today, then.”

“He didn’t think it was a big deal, right?” Sandra asked, her voice hopeful.

Suzanne laughed, but didn’t answer.

Sandra shook her head.  “Well, I’m not ahead of the game at all.  The pressure finally got to me a few nights ago.”

“What happened?”

“I cancelled my recital.”

“What?” Suzanne stopped stirring and turned to her.

Sandra felt her heart jump.  For the first time, she saw a glint of worry in Suzanne’s eyes.  There had been genuine concern all night, but not worry.  Until now…

“I can’t go through with it.  I can’t sing.  I’ve tried, but my head isn’t in it.  I sat in the practice rooms for hours this weekend, trying to sing.  Everything that came out was wrong.  I couldn’t get past one phrase without realizing my mind was immediately elsewhere.”

“Understandable.  But, things take time.”  Suzanne returned to stirring, her mood thoughtful.

“I don’t have time.  It would have been April ninth.”

Suzanne judged the date.  “Why didn’t you at least wait one more week, and see how things went?”

“I couldn’t.  I am giving…” Sandra trailed off.  “I was giving the recital with two good friends.  I couldn’t leave them hanging until last minute.  They had family coming in.  I had to decide right away.  I couldn’t risk not making it, and having them stuck without half the program.”

“So you really cancelled it?”

Sandra sighed.  “Yeah.  My roommate went down this morning and did it.”

Suzanne took her into a hug.  “Wow… I’m really sorry.  I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have to do that.”

“The worst part is that I’ve completely let them down.  We are more than just friends.  We are incredibly close.  The three of us have been planning this for months.  We’ve worked like crazy to get the material together.”  Sandra turned to Suzanne, her face a mask of sadness.  “And just like that, it’s gone…  But I can’t do it.  I can’t risk going up there and not being able to perform.”

Suzanne searched her eyes.  “Are they understanding?”

“Oh, they’re amazing!” Sandra cried out.  “They’ve done nothing but look after me this last week.”

“Well, at least that’s good.”  Suzanne returned to stirring again.  “You can’t ask for more from friends.”

Sandra shook her head, and sniffed sadly.  “But I’ve been pushing them away.  I just can’t deal with anything right now.”

“Mm.”

Sandra cleared her eyes.  “Anyway… It probably all doesn’t matter.  I might not even be around in April.  This woman on the board, Joanna Warner… she has it in for me.  She threatened to expel me, last Thursday.”

Suzanne looked like she didn’t believe Sandra.  “Why?”

Sandra recounted the tale of her interrogation, her class with Wilcox, and the subsequent meeting with Dr. Jensen and Mrs. Warner.  Sandra left out the communication with Dr. Dobra, to be safe.

“I am trying to get people to write some letters of support for him, to help his case.”

“Really…?”

“He’s helped me out a lot.”

“You’re not worried about… the accusations?”

Sandra looked at her seriously.  “I am not worried in the least.”

Suzanne nodded slowly.  “You must know something you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t say anything.  But trust me.”

“I do…  You know, I’d be happy to write a letter.  I always got along with the man, even if he was a little too uptight for my taste.”

“Would you?  Everything would help.”

“Of course.  I’ll do it tonight, and put it in your box at school first thing in the morning.  It does sound like something weird is going on there with this Warner woman,” Suzanne agreed. 

“I really think so.  But, there’s nothing I can really do.  Now I’m in the woman’s sights, along with Dr. Dobra.”

“I doubt she will be able to do anything to you,” Suzanne said confidently.  “Not for a little altercation like that.”

Sandra frowned at her.  “It didn’t seem little at the time.  But why do you say that she can’t do anything?”

Suzanne looked at her like it was obvious.  “You’re a star here.  She may try, but at some point, someone is going to stop and say ‘Wait a second… You’re trying to do what?’ ”

“A star?” Sandra asked dubiously, her eyes narrowed.

Suzanne raised a knowing brow at her.  “This school is not going to let you go, not in a million years.  Not once your teachers get word of any action by this Warner lady.”

“But she’s on the board.”

“The board is not one person, Sandra.  That’s why it’s a board.  And they’d be idiots to expel you.  What kind of place would expel the next Levine, or Solti?”

“Please tell me you didn’t just compare me to them…  That’s embarrassing!”

“Sandra, from everything I’ve seen and heard in the last few hours, I’m pretty sure I’m standing next to one amazing musician.”

Sandra shook her head and took a deep breath.  “No, she would be standing next to me.  You’re the one going to L.A.”

Suzanne chuckled as she turned down the heat on the sauce and put the large pot of water on to boil.  “Who told you that?”

“Mark.”

“Ah.  The truth is out, then.  Yes, I am going to L.A.  But, that doesn’t change who you are.”

“Exactly.  I’m about to get kicked out, and I can’t even make music anymore.”

Suzanne raised an eyebrow.  “Can’t make music anymore?”

“I told you, I can’t sing.  It’s gone.  Everything I felt when I used to sing… is gone.  I can’t find it anywhere.”

Suzanne shook her head in amazement.  “Were you not listening to anything I said earlier?  Were you not just in that rehearsal room an hour ago?  How can you say you can’t make music anymore?”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t?  Go tell anyone who was in that room that you can’t make music, and they’ll laugh so hard that I’ll hear it all the way over here.”

“But… but… that was different.  I wasn’t singing…” Sandra said, lamely.

“So?  Since when does music depend only on the method of delivery?”

Sandra suddenly began to wonder if Suzanne was right.

Did something change? I do feel different after that… Maybe my voice is back…?

The thought was almost frightening.

“That whole conducting thing was so surreal,” Sandra said quietly.  “It doesn’t even feel like it happened to me.  I was watching someone else… A person I don’t even know.”

“Wake up, Sandra,” Suzanne said gently, smiling at her.  She took her hand.  “Just let go, feel what we all felt in that room, and wake up…”

Sandra took some deep breaths as she steadied herself on the counter. 

Is she right…?

Suzanne’s violin solo suddenly burst into her head, so achingly alive that she staggered slightly.  She turned to Suzanne, who just watched her with her vibrant eyes.  Sandra drew on the light in them, as she let the music within her course through her body. 

She could only stare, not knowing what words to say.  She hardly recognized the feelings she suddenly felt.  During the conducting, she had had these feelings inside of her, but felt like she was watching them pass, in a trance, and unable to swim in them.

Now, they were a part of her again.  Other songs and melodies were in her head, swirling around each other.

After some time, one particular melody began to dominate.

This…!  This is what’s been missing…!

“Do you have some music paper?” Sandra suddenly asked.

“Of course.”

Suzanne turned down the burners, and led Sandra out to the living room where she grabbed a piece of staff paper from a stack.

“Can you play for me?”

Suzanne nodded, and went to take out her violin. As she tightened and rosined up her bow, Sandra quickly wrote out two melodies on the paper, occasionally checking something on the piano.

Suzanne watched from over her shoulder, as Sandra finished and handed her the paper.

“Can you play the bottom part?”

“I don’t know anything past first position,” Suzanne said mischievously, as she took the sheet.

Sandra let out a laugh, suddenly feeling a strong urge to hug Suzanne.

“I’m not a pianist,” Sandra said, smiling apologetically, as Suzanne set the music on a stand in front of her.

Suzanne smiled as if she didn’t believe her, and put the violin under her chin.

“Pace?”

Sandra sang the first four long notes.

“Okay.”

Sandra set her hands at the piano, soundlessly fingering a few figures.  Then she turned to Suzanne, and gave a slow pickup beat with her head.

They played…

…Suzanne started quietly, unsure what to do with the limited information Sandra had provided on the staff.  She quickly reacted to the delicate nature of the melody and Sandra’s accompaniment, and matched her playing to the feeling she imagined.

Sandra’s arpeggios were sparse, and Suzanne played the melody tenderly, drawing a little more from her instrument with each phrase.

They continued for about a minute.  The first notes of the second melody approached on the page.

Then Sandra took a deep breath. 

It came so quietly that Suzanne didn’t even recognize it as singing, for a few notes.  As if coming out from behind a curtain, Sandra’s voice delicately shaped the melody.

Before the second phrase had ended, Suzanne knew something good had happened in the kitchen. 

This is not the singing of someone who can’t feel the music…  God, how beautiful she is…

Sandra’s piano accompaniment trailed off as she lost herself in the singing.  Suzanne kept track of Sandra’s melody, written on the top line of the pair, as she played her counter melody on the violin.  Even without the pulse of the minimal accompaniment, they remained locked together.  Suzanne could read the flow of the music from Sandra’s body, just as she had done when she was on the podium.

Sandra finished what she had written out for the vocal line, and Suzanne played the few remaining notes she had written for her.

Sandra was staring straight ahead, when Suzanne lowered her violin.  She put the instrument on a nearby desk, and approached the piano. 

A smile was on Sandra’s face, and two tears had streaked down her cheeks.

“It’s back,” she whispered.

“I know,” Suzanne said with a smile.

Sandra rose slowly from the bench, and turned to Suzanne. 

“I can’t believe it…”

Suzanne pulled her into a tight hug, and Sandra just clung to her as her own body shook.  A week of desolate tension began to frantically push and pull inside of her, as it tried to suddenly escape the incoming flood of emotions. 

“Just let it out,” Suzanne said.

After a tortuous period of time, during which Sandra went through everything from agony to sadness, she finally reached a state in which she could move again.

Despite the awe she felt at having suddenly let the dam of emotions burst within her, there remained one overwhelming feeling which prevented her from smiling at Suzanne.

Loss…

“I can’t believe I ruined it.  It would have been fine…  After all, it would have been fine…”

Suzanne looked at her with a smile.

“Do you mean the recital?” she asked, gently.

Sandra nodded.  What can I possibly say to Emily and Richard, now?

“You can still do the recital.”

Sandra turned to her, not knowing if she heard correctly.

Does she work in the events office?  What could she possibly mean?

“But it was cancelled…  Emily cancelled it this morning.  I saw that it was cancelled.  She said the hall time would be snapped up immediately.”

Suzanne nodded in agreement.  “Yeah, this time of year, she’s probably right.  I’m even on the waiting list for rehearsal time in the hall for my quartet.”

“So how are we supposed to give the recital?”

“Don’t give it in the Wexford hall.”

Sandra stared at her.  “What?”

“There are three or four churches around here that people give recitals in, sometimes.”

Sandra looked at her, her expression suddenly starting to fill with life.  “Wexford students?”

“Yes.  I gave my junior recital at one.  Helden Chapel.  There are others, too.  They have agreements with Wexford.  You can almost certainly get one of them for that day, and probably even at the same time you had planned.”

“Are… Are you being serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“But the programs…”

“So what?  They can change the information and photocopy some new ones.  Big deal!  It happens all the time.  They might grumble, if you catch them on a busy day, but screw them.  It’s your recital…”

Sandra looked around wildly.  “You mean it’s not over?”

Suzanne was grinning.  “Not unless you want it to be.”

“Oh my god…”

Sandra settled her gaze on Suzanne’s happy eyes. 

She said I won’t get expelled.  She said we can still do the recital…  Is this really happening…? 

I need to get back to Richard and Emily and tell them.  Tell them everything… Even this…

Sandra kissed her.  Suzanne kissed back, not hesitating.

Before it grew too heated, Sandra pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” she said, suddenly realizing Suzanne had no idea what she had just done.  And yet, I know…

“Don’t be sorry, Sandra,” Suzanne said.

Suzanne kissed Sandra back.  This time it was a little more urgent.

When the kiss ended of its own accord, Sandra turned away.

“I haven’t told you everything.”

Suzanne put a hand on her shoulder.  “What do you mean?”

Sandra stared at the piano, her heart racing.  A small smile was on her lips.

“I’m involved with two other people.  They’re the ones playing the recital with me.”

“Okay,” Suzanne said.

“I want you to meet them.”

Suzanne laughed.  “Oh?”

Sandra turned to her.  “You are… incredible.  I knew it the moment I locked eyes with you in the class today.”

“I did too.”

Sandra smiled, her expression a mix of so many emotions that Suzanne just watched her wide-eyed for several long moments.

“You are amazingly beautiful when you really, really smile,” Suzanne said.

Sandra let herself be kissed again, and disbelief mixed with relief as her head swirled. 

She was alive again.

Sandra stood in front of the door to her dorm room. 

I hope it’s still my room…

With a final breath, she tried again to squash the nerves in her stomach, and then knocked.

She heard the voices inside suddenly stop, and then the peephole momentarily darkened.

The door instantly swung open, and Emily was looking at her.

Sandra smiled nervously, trying to communicate with her eyes that she was all right.

Emily held her gaze for a moment and then stepped closer, her face hopeful.

Sandra couldn’t wait any longer, and pulled her into an embrace.  She couldn’t stop the tears as she felt Emily’s tense body grip her tightly.

Richard was watching, and Sandra extended an arm to him.  He quickly joined the embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked, after he squeezed them both tight.

“Yes, I am,” Sandra murmured.

It was all that was spoken for a very long time, as they remained in the three way hug.  People came and went in the hallway, unnoticed by the trio. 

Through gentle caresses and soft pressure, they began to heal.

Words would come later.

When the door was finally closed, and Sandra looked at her two once-lost lovers, she smiled happily despite her wet face. 

Richard and Emily smiled back at her, their faces also shiny.

“You are back,” Richard said.  “I can see it in your eyes.”

Sandra nodded, and then spoke with hope in her voice.  “I’m sorry about what I’ve done.  I know I’ve messed up, but there’s a way we can still save it.  If you want to.”

“What do you mean?”

“The recital.  I know you cancelled it, Em, but there’s a way we can still do it.”

Sandra watched as Richard and Emily turned to each other and shared a look.

They… smiled…! 

The excitement in her, which had been simmering since Suzanne’s suggestion, now began to pour out from where she had held it. 

They still want to do it!

“You want to do the recital?” Emily asked her, her expression reflecting the hope Sandra felt.

“Yes!” Sandra cried.  “I do!  I made a terrible mistake, but it was the only thing I thought I could do.  But now… I’ve started to figure things out.  I was crazy.  I wasn’t thinking.  But we can still do it.  There are some churches in the area that we can get into, to play the recital.  We can still have it on the same day, probably.”

Emily and Richard were smiling.

They like the idea… They still want to do it!

“Sandra,” Emily said, her voice emotional.  “I knew it.  I knew you’d come back around!”

“So we’ll still do it then?”

“Yes.  Yes!”

Richard was grinning broadly, his eyes emotional.

Sandra swallowed hard, her throat tight.  “Oh, thank you…  I was so worried you’d say no.”

“We never gave up on you, Sandra.”

Sandra paced around the room, her mind suddenly filled with things needing to be done to get the recital off the ground again.  “I’ll go to the events office first thing tomorrow and ask about these churches.”

“Don’t bother,” Emily said.

Sandra turned to her, worry creeping back into her thoughts.  But she’s smiling?

“Why?”

Emily grinned.  “I never cancelled it.”

For a moment, Sandra’s world reeled.  She stared at Emily, stunned.  “But…  I saw it…”

She ran to her bag, dumping out the contents onto the desk.  She was glad to see a crumpled piece of paper.  I’m not going crazy… She pulled it open.  She held it out to them, her arm shaking.

Emily was smiling apologetically.  “That’s my handwriting.”

“But…  Wh-Why?” Sandra stammered, incredulous.

“I was hoping that if you saw it, you’d feel differently.  You know, the grim finality, and all that…”

Sandra shook her head in disbelief.  “You mean it’s not cancelled?”

“No,” Richard confirmed.  “We knew you would change your mind.  You just needed time, like Emily said.  So we gave you some time.  If by next weekend, you were still not going to do it, then we were going to think about really cancelling it…  But…”

“But we didn’t think that would happen,” Emily added, excitedly.

Sandra braced herself on the desk, and then sat down in her desk chair.

The moment was incredibly overwhelming. 

They believed in me.  They waited.  They knew…

She wondered then how she still had tears, after crying for what seemed like eight straight days.

Emily and Richard moved to kneel before her, and were watching her, still smiling.

“Can we do it?” Sandra asked.  “We’re two weeks away.  I haven’t sung anything on the recital since before we went to New York.”

New York… That seems like a year ago…

“Sandra, we’ve practiced all year for this.  We are ready.  We have two weeks to polish things up, and then go in there and kick some butt,” Richard said.

Sandra nodded, still feeling dizzy.  She stood up at last, pulling them up and hugging them tightly.

“I can’t believe this.  Just this morning I thought I had ruined everything…”

“We wouldn’t let you do that,” Emily said gently.

After some time, Sandra pulled away. 

“I have something to admit.”

Richard and Emily waited expectantly.

“I hope you don’t get angry…  I met someone tonight.”

Emily looked at Richard.

“Who is he?” she asked.

“She.  I met her in conducting class.”

“Speaking of which,” Richard said, “what happened in class today?”

Sandra narrowed her eyes.  “What do you mean?”

“You fainted?”

Sandra looked at him anxiously, as she took a step backwards.  “Please tell me you made that up!”

“No.  Someone at the school told me.”

“Oh god…  I didn’t think it would spread so fast that it beat me back to my room!” she wailed.

Emily laughed.  “Welcome to Wexford.”

Sandra closed her eyes.  “I conducted Verklaerte Nacht in class today, and it turned into a scene.  A mess, really.  I was so out of it, that I don’t even remember what really happened.”

“It looked like the whole school was there.  Was that for your turn?”

Sandra nodded shyly.  “You weren’t there, were you?”

“No,” Richard said.  “I came running when I heard a huge crowd of people shaking the building.  You had already left.”

Sandra put her hands to her face.  “It was a mess.  Apparently I fell off the podium…”

Emily started to snigger, and then stopped.  “Wait, are we allowed to laugh?”

“It’s not funny!” Sandra wailed.

“Even a little?” Emily said, grinning.

Sandra at last smiled.  “Oh, what a mess…”

“So you conducted the whole piece?”

“Just the last twenty minutes, or so.”

“And people just started wandering in?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know why, or how.”

“And did you do well?” Emily asked.

“That’s what everyone keeps saying.”

Emily grinned.  “Well, I’m sure I’ll hear all about it in orchestra rehearsal tomorrow night!”

Sandra just let out another wail.

“From what I saw, it was a huge success,” Richard said.  “People were walking out of there like they had watched an amazing concert.”

“Okay, enough!” Sandra cried out, waving her hands in the air.  “I was trying to tell you something important.”

“Oh, right.  Sorry,” Richard said.  “You were saying you met someone?  A woman?”

“She was playing in the orchestra for class.  I just connected with her so much.  I mean, when I was conducting, we just kept making the music together, and driving each other on.  It was just… amazing.”

“What was she playing that was so prominent?” Emily asked. 

“She was concertmistress.  There’s a lot of solo violin in that piece.”

“What’s her name?”

“Suzanne.”

Emily thought for a second.  “Wait, not Suzanne Wright?”

“I don’t know her last name.”

“Is she tallish, brunette… Pretty, slightly older looking?”

“That kind of sounds like her,” Sandra agreed.

Emily laughed.  “No wonder Sandra wants to ditch us,” she said to Richard.

“I don’t want to ditch you!” Sandra wailed, moving suddenly to the verge of tears.  “Please don’t say that!”

Emily took her hand and smiled apologetically.  “I’m sorry.  I’m not being very sensitive.  I’m just in too good a mood to do that!”

“Who is she?” Richard asked Emily.

“She’s like possibly the best violinist at Wexford right now.”

Richard nodded.  “Nice,” he said to Sandra.

“I think she’s in our pool of soul mates,” Sandra said.  “I know she is.”

Emily and Richard looked at her with interest.

“Really?”

“Yes.  I instantly felt a connection with her.  It was like I was inside of her mind when she was playing.”

“Cool,” Richard said.

“Is that where you were after class?” Emily asked.

“Yes.  I wanted her to come back to the dorm with me now, so you could meet her, but she thought I should talk with you alone first.  She was right.”

“What happened?” Richard asked.

Sandra recounted how Suzanne had found her after she had rushed out of the class, and how she had invited her over for dinner. 

“That’s when I left you the note.”

“So we just missed you.”

“I guess.  I wanted to come find you, but for some reason, this was the right thing to do.”

Richard and Emily both nodded.  “Definitely…”

“We cooked dinner, and I spilled my guts about what was happening.  Then suddenly, she made me realize that I still could feel the music.  I had done it in the conducting room.  Then that was it.  Suddenly, it was back.  I even sang a little at her place, just to see.”

Richard and Emily smiled at her words.

“She suggested the churches to do our recitals, too.  But we don’t need that, now…”

“What’s she like?” Richard asked.

“Down to earth, fun… You’ll be meeting her soon.”

“Cool.  Did you kiss her?” Emily asked, grinning.

Sandra felt herself heat up, and then she nodded sheepishly.

Richard laughed.  “Allison, Part Two.”

“Are you mad?” Sandra asked.

Emily and Richard looked at each other. 

“We’re so out of here!” Emily said, as the two of them made for the door.

“Hey!  Come on!” Sandra cried.

They laughed and turned back to her.  Sandra move out from behind the desk.

“I trust you, Sandra,” Richard said.  “I just want your love.  And you’ve proven it so many times, now.  Feel it out, with Suzanne.  Maybe we can all become friends.”

“What he said,” Emily added, pointing a thumb at Richard.

 Sandra was visibly relieved. 

“I mean, I feel something strong for Viktoriya, and for Arlene… even William…  They’re all different, but in a way all the same.  The more I think about it, the more it makes sense.  It’s mostly custom that keeps us from tapping into this way of living.”

“Did you do more?” Emily asked, taking on the expectant look she usually reserved for Richard’s stories.

“No.  We kissed a few times.  It doesn’t mean things will go further.”

Richard nodded.  “It might, but it doesn’t have to if you don’t want.  That’s how the connections are different.  But when it comes down to it, it’s the same.  We connect somewhere deeply that we don’t with most other people, whether through music, or art, or sex…”

“You already had musical sex with her, it sounds like,” Emily said.

Sandra considered for a moment.  “I guess you’re right.”

“That’s a neat image, Em,” Richard said.  “I’ve felt that way a few times during the Serenade, right before we left for New York.”

Emily swatted him.  “So that’s why you’re always messing up!  Your mind is somewhere else!”

Richard laughed richly.

Sandra looked at them.  They had seemed so far apart earlier that day.  Now, they were just six feet away, and completely back in her heart.

She rushed to them, embracing them so tightly Emily let out a warning grunt.

“I love you both so much.  I thought I loved you before…  But I had no idea what love was, until I walked in here tonight.”

The next morning, after Music History class, Sandra stepped into Dr. Jensen’s office. She was glad to see he was alone.

“Sandra.  Please… sit this time.”

Sandra did, after she slid six envelopes over the table to him.

“These are?”

“Statements from myself and five other students in support of Dr. Dobra as a teacher.”

He considered them, and then nodded.  “I will put them into evidence.”

Sandra waited expectantly, although she wasn’t sure what she was waiting for.

“Is there something else?” he asked at last.

“Well, the other day, that woman threatened me.  I keep waiting for the worst, but…  I’m not sure what to make of it.”

Dr. Jensen nodded.  “Yes, it was quite inappropriate.”

Sandra felt a trickle of relief at his words.

“What’s going to happen?” she asked, tentatively.

Dr. Jensen looked at her enigmatically  “With?”

“Her?  Dr. Dobra…?  Me?”

“It appears we have two or three separate issues to deal with,” he said cryptically.

“I can’t stay in Wil… Dr. Wilcox’s class.”

Dr. Jensen smiled slightly.  “You won’t.”

“What class will I be moved to?”

“You will stay in your current class.  Dr. Wilcox is no longer teaching that section.”

Sandra narrowed her eyes.  “Really?”

“Yes.  Do not tell me he was there yesterday?”

“I don’t know.  I… had to miss class for… something.”

Dr. Jensen nodded knowingly.  He straightened his face.

“Now, if there is nothing else, I suggest you put this whole episode behind you, and return to focusing on your studies.  You’ve provided more than enough information at this point…  I understand you had a recent loss of a loved one?”

Sandra nodded, wondering how he knew.

“I am very sorry.  My condolences.”

Dr. Jensen stood.  Sandra did as well.

“I’m sorry you had to endure that episode in my office last week.  But do not worry; Mrs. Warner’s threats are her own, and she is in a small minority.  Growing smaller with each day, apparently.  So, put this all behind you.”

He smiled sincerely.

“But it’s not over,” she said.  “What about Dr. Dobra?”

Dr. Jensen’s smile evaporated.  “Sandra, the investigation is continuing.  As I said last week, I cannot share information with anyone.  Things have gotten more complicated.”

“For him?”

Dr. Jensen pretended to not have heard, and opened the door to his office.  “Thank you for the letters.”

Sandra nodded in defeat, and then looked at him.  “There will be more.”

Dr. Jensen smiled politely.  “Have them delivered directly to me.”

Sandra thanked him, and then watched the door close.

She turned, and found Sue the secretary smiling at her.  She was looking exaggeratedly at her desk.

Sandra worried for a moment that she had found out about the phone directory theft, but then she saw a small white envelope on the desk with an ‘S’ on it.

Sandra grabbed it instinctively and put it in her bag. 

Sue smiled again, as if nothing had happened.

Sandra forced herself to smile back, and then left, unsure what to make of the episode.  She went directly to the restroom and opened the envelope, scared at what she would find.  The relief she had felt in the President’s office had now vanished.

Expulsion letter?  My grade from Wilcox?  What…? 

A tape?

It was a microcassette. 

Last Thursday’s statement, and the ensuing meltdown with Joanna Warner.  Somehow she got it back from that witch…

A small paper was folded up in the case. 

“Live your life with passion, and you will inspire others to be brave…”

She read the words over several times, and then replaced the paper in the case.

A memento of me yelling at a board member? Weird…

Sandra stuffed the tape into her bag, and then she took a deep breath.

Put this behind you…  That’s what Dr. Jensen said.

Her mood suddenly grew into elation, as she realized she was going to go rehearse.  I’m going to go sing.  With Richard and Emily…

With a huge smile, she went off to find the studio they would be working in.

Sandra stood there for a long time as she looked at the programs on the bulletin board with a smile.  Richard and Emily were beside her.

The modified program was in its place amidst the other upcoming recitals.

Order had been restored.

“We should really get back to rehearsing,” Emily said, fanning the stack of programs she held.

Sandra nodded.  “Just one more sigh…”

They laughed, and then walked down the hallway.

A somewhat familiar looking guy was walking down the hall towards them, and Sandra thought he was staring at her as he approached.

“Sandra?” he asked.

“Yeah?” 

She still couldn’t place him.

“I’m Jeff.  I was playing in the conducting class the other day?”

“Oh, right!  You were sitting right behind Suzanne.”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling.  “I, uh, wanted to ask you something.  I’m giving my second master’s recital next semester, and I know it’s kind of outrageous, but I’m trying to get a little orchestra together so I can play the Beethoven Violin Concerto, without using a piano for accompaniment.  So I’m calling in favors, and I think I’m actually going to have enough people.”

Sandra looked at him, unsure if he had her confused with someone else.

“I’m a singer, though…” she said, raising a brow.  “I don’t think there’s a soprano part in that piece.”

He laughed.  “I know that.  I have the musicians.  I want you to conduct.”

Sandra stared at him openmouthed.  Richard and Emily grinned as she tried to speak.

“Conduct?” she finally managed.

“Well, yeah.”

“Me?”

Jeff smiled expectantly.

“She’s a little hard of hearing,” Richard said, to which they all laughed.

Sandra just stammered some incomprehensible syllables.

“Are you sure you mean me?”

Jeff nodded. 

“Um…  Well, I have no idea what the piece sounds like, and I have no idea how to conduct, and I probably will have a thousand things going on… but… Sure.”

Jeff smiled broadly.  “Really? Sweet!”

“Well, let me listen to the concerto, before I fully agree.”

“If you can conduct the Schoenberg like that, then this will be a walk in the park,” Jeff said.

“Okay, but… Wow.”

Jeff leaned in to her.  “Can you promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“If my friend Scott asks you to conduct for his recital, can you say no?”

“You mean other people want me to conduct?” Sandra cried, overwhelmed.

“He’s trying to copy my idea.  When he finds out who I asked, he’s going to try to do the same thing.  His recital is two weeks before mine, and he’s trying to one-up me.”

Sandra shook her head.  “Okay…  I’ll say no.”

Jeff grinned.  “Cool.  Here’s my number.”

He scratched out the numbers on a paper and handed it to her.

“I’ll want to get together and listen to the piece, and show you the tempi I have in mind.  We’ll need to get people together for some rehearsals, too.”

“Okay, but… can we wait until after April ninth?” Sandra said apologetically.

Jeff laughed.  “Well, yeah!  I was thinking more like the beginning of next semester.  What’s on the ninth?”

Emily had a program in his hands before the words were out of his mouth.  Jeff looked it over.

“Aw, crap!” he exclaimed.

“What?” Sandra asked.

“I thought I’d just scored your debut concert.  But you’re giving a recital as a freshman?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, at least I get your conducting debut.”

Sandra raised her brow at him.  “Don’t get too excited yet.  We’ll see what you think after the first rehearsal.”

Jeff laughed.  “All right, I have to run.  Jeff, by the way,” he said, extending a hand to Richard and Emily.

They greeted, and then Jeff waved the program in front of him. 

“I’ll definitely come out for this, and bring some friends.”

Sandra smiled.  “Thanks!  And thanks for asking me to conduct.  I’ll try and do a good job for you.”

“You will,” Jeff said confidently.  “Bye, y’all.”

He continued down the hallway.

“A few more audience members in my column,” Emily said.

“He’s coming because of Sandra,” Richard said, frowning at her.

“I gave him the program,” Emily retorted.

“That was surreal,” Sandra said, her voice distant.  “Did that just happen?  Did I just agree to conduct an orchestra next semester?”

“I’m afraid you did.”

“You’re like, famous!” Richard said to Sandra, grinning.  “Okay, let’s go find a practice room, before people start asking for autographs…”

Wilcox was gone, as Dr. Jensen had promised.  Sandra never saw him again.  He had swept in for a week, left a dubious legacy, and then disappeared just as quickly and enigmatically. 

No letter of expulsion ever came.  Sandra never saw Joanna Warner again either, despite her name remaining on the list of trustees by the main entrance to the conservatory.

Sandra found a few more Dobra supporters to write letters, and she delivered them to a tight-lipped Dr. Jensen.  No word on the status of the investigation was offered, and Sandra knew it was useless to ask.  She dared not call Dr. Dobra again, either. 

The lingering sadness for Billy’s passing and the ambiguity of the situation with Dr. Dobra wasn’t enough to dampen Sandra’s mood, however.  She returned to her music like it had been absent for a year.  She had almost lost it; now found, she was holding it tightly and living every moment. 

Richard, Emily and Sandra worked to perfect what they could.  The recital consumed them again, even more than it had during the difficult February learning phase.  Now, it took up residence inside of them, starting to act alive, and growing.  The music was breathing, sensing that it was soon to be let out.

At last, the recital finally arrived.  The trio was as prepared as they could be. 

How the long months of work, love, and suffering would be delivered, and received, all came down to just one hour and forty-four minutes on the evening of Tuesday, April ninth.

Forward to Chapter 33

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