All I Ask

by KT Webb

  At seven o’clock sharp, Aria stood at center stage. The empty theater stared back at her as though the imprints of the crowds that once filled the seats were watching her wait in nervous anticipation. Beyond the chairs, the theater door opened to reveal a man dressed in black. The top half of his body was hidden in shadow. Aria fought the urge to run as she encountered what could have been the killer in any slasher film. Instead, she found her voice before he stepped into the light.

  “D’Angelo?”

  “Aria,” his voice caressed each letter in her name as though it was the most precious treasure in the world.

  “Come into the light,” she instructed.

  “I prefer to stay in the shadows.”

  “Well, I prefer to see the man who claims to have been living in my theater without permission.”

  He released a short laugh, “And what makes you think I didn’t have permission?’

  Aria was momentarily surprised. Someone on the board of the Durant Foundation might have known someone was living in the theater. Why would they have told her? She was barely into her twenties and kept to herself.

  “I have made regular and substantial donations to the foundation started by your father. He was a dear friend,” D’Angelo explained.

  “I don’t recall him mentioning anyone named D’Angelo.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have. It was a long time ago. The point is, I’ve been living here because this is the place that provides me with the right combination of solitude and inspiration. That’s how I’ve always liked to work; alone.”

  “Then why have you offered to train me?” Aria felt herself becoming more intrigued by the second.

  His voice was difficult to place. He could have been the same age as Aria, or even somewhere in his forties. There was a warm quality to his tone that told her he was indeed a gentle person. Another edge to his voice indicated a hint of a short and harsh temper. He was well-educated or at least well-read. Not at all the kind of person she would expect to live in a damp basement. D’Angelo took a few more steps until his entire body save for his head was exposed by the light. His face remained a mystery. From where she stood, his skin was covered entirely in black.

  “I have selfish reasons for wanting to work with you. As I wrote in my letter, your voice has had a significant impact on my work,” the man paused to run his hand along the back of a seat, “I overheard you rethinking your choice to move into the apartment. I need you to stay.”

  He took a final step into the light, and Aria nearly fell over. The place where she expected to finally see his face was covered in a simple white mask. The effect was more alarming than she cared to admit. Because of the full-face covering, she couldn’t see his mouth move as he spoke. There was no way for her to make out any of his features.

  “Why are you wearing that?” Her tone betrayed her, exposing the fear creeping into her mind.

  “I hate wearing this, it’s why I prefer to stick to the shadows. I’ve become a bit of a creature of darkness. I prefer to remain anonymous, and this is the only way for me to do so if I must meet you face to. . .well, in person,” he walked the rest of the way down to the edge of the wall blocking off the orchestra pit.

  Aria stood rooted to the spot as the unnerving masked man climbed the stairs. Her heart rate was out of control as D’Angelo purposefully rose to stage level. He stood at the edge of the stage, watching her through the two holes molded for his eyes. As she watched him, the fear she’d been keeping at bay evaporated. Something about the entire situation made her want to burst into hysterical giggles. This wasn’t going to work.

  “I’m sorry, I can’t take you seriously if you’re going to wear that ridiculous mask.”

  “Then you must promise me something,” he said while walking toward her.

  His mere presence was intimidating enough to remind her that the humor she found may have been detrimental to her well-being. D’Angelo stood waiting for her to ask what he required of her when her expression lost all the mirth it had contained, he proceeded.

  “I told you I prefer to remain in the shadows. Darkness awakens the mind and strips us of anything that may hold us back. The most secret pieces of our souls can be found in the darkest parts of the night. You must promise me that whenever you are working with me, we will be plunged into total darkness.”

  Aria glanced at him with a furrowed brow, “Total darkness?”

  “Does that frighten you?”

  She shook her head, “I can’t say I’ve ever found anything to fear in the dark.”

  Without another word, D’Angelo turned and strode to the levers that acted as light switches for the large theater. He hadn’t expected her response to affect him so strongly. The fascination he felt with the young woman was growing by the second. She showed no fear. Once the lights had been extinguished, he carefully removed his mask. It was uncomfortable to wear and often made him feel as though he was suffocating. The warmth of it touching his rough and distorted face caused pain that he wasn’t keen to experience often.

  “How am I to read music if we’re always in the dark?” Aria wondered aloud.

  “Our lessons will not be about your ability to read the music. You must learn to feel the music in your soul, only then can you fully appreciate it.”

  “That’s something my father always said.”

  D’Angelo laughed in the darkness, “Yes, as a composer, it was his job to provide the music, as a lyricist, it was his pleasure to give meaning to each note. As a singer, it is your responsibility to bring the feeling of each piece to life. You can’t do that if you don’t allow the music to possess you.”

  It was then that Aria understood. D’Angelo was the answer to her whispered pleas directed at her father’s spirit. Their lessons began to show her that the spirit of music was all around, working in her the way her father had always promised it would.

  Madame Rossi had been teaching at Webber Academy for over fifteen years. Prior to her retirement from a long and successful stage career, she had worked regularly with the likes of Durant and knew him quite well. When Aria Durant was orphaned, Lena Rossi insisted Webber Academy take her on, she felt it was her job to protect the young girl from further harm. She took a particular interest in training Aria in the performing arts and had become a trusted confidante. Now that Aria had graduated from the Webber Academy, the young woman had taken up residence in the apartment above her father’s defunct theater. She lived a life of solitude other than the days she came to tutor the younger students at her alma mater.

  On a snowy December morning, Madame Rossi had intended to visit her former pupil by entering the theater through the door once used by cast and crew. Madame Rossi had been entrusted with a key the day Aria returned to the home she had once shared with her father during productions. Lena anticipated finding the young woman in her apartment, but on this occasion, she seemed to be interrupting some kind of vocal exercise. In her opinion, Aria had the voice of an angel, she simply lacked the confidence to share it with the world.

  Madame Rossi was concealed behind one of the tattered curtains backstage, listening to the solo in the darkness. The young soprano sang a well-loved melody from Durant’s songbook. According to her own trained ear, Aria was hitting each note perfectly but still lacked the feeling required to portray the true meaning of the words. For whatever reason, her young friend was singing alone in the dark theater.

  Aria stopped singing, and Madame Rossi was convinced she had been caught. She waited with the breath still in her lungs, preparing to apologize for eavesdropping. Instead of exposing her old teacher, Aria seemed to be speaking to some unseen person.

  “I don’t know how to feel it any other way,” Aria insisted as though she had heard Madame Rossi’s own private thoughts.

  Somewhere in the darkness, Madame Rossi thought she heard a fervent whisper respond to the young woman. Chills rippled across her body. The moment Aria announced her decision to move into Durant Theater, Madame Rossi had anticipate
d there would come a day when the other tenant would connect with her. It was a secret she held in confidence. When D’Angelo came to her for assistance, she’d given it without question. He insisted on a life of isolation and darkness. Madame Rossi couldn’t help but wonder if Aria would benefit from befriending the composer, or if it would hurt her in the long run.

  “Why would you ask that? I haven’t had the opportunity to fall in love,” Aria sighed, “How am I supposed to portray a feeling I’ve never experienced? The closest I have come is a girlhood crush.”

  Again, the soft murmurs of an invisible entity. Madame Rossi couldn’t make out any of the words, but the change in Aria’s tone when she responded told her the girl had been prompted to think about whatever young love she was referring to.

  “I can remember his voice, it left me in awe of him. He was always so sweet to me even though I was much younger than him,” Aria stopped at the sound of rustling fabric that must have come from the opposite place from where Madame Rossi hid. The young woman’s breathing accelerated, not from fear but from excitement.

  “His name? I haven’t said it aloud in years,” Aria took a deep breath, “Erik. I once wanted nothing more than to be old enough for him to notice me the way I noticed him. He died the same night I lost my father. Now, I would give anything just to see his face again.”

  Painful realization dawned on Madame Rossi; Aria Durant had lost more than her father in that fire. The poor girl had lost her first, although unrequited, love. Suddenly feeling as though she was intruding on something truly private, Madame Rossi wondered if she should make herself known before anything more was exposed. Her curiosity kept her rooted to the spot. She would find a way to question the young woman about her tutor at some point, but her intention was to approach Aria about the new D’Angelo production if the composer himself hadn’t already told her. After reviewing the description and score, it seemed to be the perfect play for the young Durant to make her Broadway debut.

  Aria stood on the stage, talking to the disembodied tutor who had helped her find her voice. He had never asked her anything so personal before. His first letter had become her most prized possession. She’d read the handwritten note over and over; finding herself more and more cemented in the belief that her father had heard her plea and sent the spirit of music to her. Now, she felt the man standing close to her. She had begun to think of him as an intangible entity. The reminder that he was just a man was an exhilarating and dangerous feeling that filled her with questions about the emotions that continued to circle her mind.

  “You think you may have loved this boy?” The soft whisper of D’Angelo sent chills over her skin.

  “Yes, I think I did. I guess I’ve been holding onto the past so desperately that part of me may still love the boy I remember.”

  Aria stiffened as the physical presence of D’Angelo grew closer yet. His whispers had become comforting to her, she often closed her eyes during their lessons and willed her mind to absorb his every word. In a way, she wondered if she had begun to fall in love with the phantom of a man. The thought had been dismissed from her mind far too many times to count. How could she love someone she had never actually seen? No, she decided long ago that it must have been adoration and respect she felt for the first person to truly show her the passion that could be felt in music.

  “Think of him when you sing this song, it’s a love song. A piece like this needs to be felt deeper than the notes you sing. It’s not enough to sing the melody perfectly, you must make them feel it,” D’Angelo insisted in a hushed tone, his body now close enough for her to feel his breath gently caress her neck

  Aria nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat. With a deep breath, she began to sing. She closed her eyes and thought about all the times she sang with Erik in her father’s music room. The image of him returned to her with little effort, and she felt the butterflies bloom in her belly and rise to her chest. It burst forth as a melody laden with raw emotion and feelings that would forever remain unrequited. As she finished her song, Aria fell to her knees in tears and found that D’Angelo had left her once more.

  It wasn’t often that someone was faced with strange encounters that left them questioning their own sanity. Or at least, that’s what Aria gathered from her conversations with other people. The peculiar relationship she had with D’Angelo often left her wondering if their lessons had occurred at all. Sometimes, she believed him to be incorporeal. She honestly thought he was one of the spirits of music her father spoke of so fondly. But, her most recent lesson with him had once again reminded her that he was, in fact, a man.

  The physical presence of D’Angelo was both imposing and intoxicating. He was often mercurial and had lost his patience with her on a few occasions. When she felt she had disappointed him, Aria was reminded that D’Angelo, whoever he may be, had wisdom to impart on her; regardless of who he was, she firmly believed her father had sent him to help her. The lessons were working, she felt more confident in her singing abilities than ever before.

  Aria closed her eyes on the stage once more. She willed him to return to her, to tell her if she had accomplished what he asked. It was always like that, he left before she finished singing. Most of the time, that meant she had finally done something right. This time had been so strange. He’d never asked her anything personal before, he seemed to know her so perfectly already. She wondered if the nature of the question was what caused him to come close to her. She stood up and blindly made her way to the side of the stage, where the light switch would once again reveal that she was alone in an unkempt and outdated theater. Almost as soon as she passed from the stage to the wings, she ran into another person.

  Aria yelped. She lunged for the lights before Madame Rossi could utter a word. When the overhead lights burst to life, she found herself face to face with her favorite teacher from the Webber Academy.

  “Madame Rossi! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?” Aria felt panic grip her chest, “How long have you been standing here?”

  “I’m sorry, child. I shouldn’t have been skulking in the darkness. I came to see you, but I heard you singing,” a soft blush appeared on her pale skin. “I didn’t want to interrupt your. . .practice.”

  “Oh, were you looking for me? Did you need something?” Aria desperately wanted to ask the older woman if she had seen anyone else on the stage but thought better of it. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to scare D’Angelo away.

  “Yes, I was. I have something that may interest you. D’Angelo has a new production coming this spring. Auditions begin after the first of the year,” she handed Aria a folder.

  Aria took the folder cautiously while furrowing her brow. He hadn’t said anything about a new musical. Despite her months of intense training, she hadn’t considered auditioning for a production. She was ready, she knew it. Aria could feel the urge to dive in, but she had to make sure the music spoke to her. Though, considering it was written by the man who spoke to her soul in a way no one ever had, she already had a feeling the production was perfectly suited to her. Inside the folder, the copies of sheet music were neatly paperclipped together.

  “Here,” Madame Rossi thumbed through the pages and pulled out a piece of music. “I think you should take a few days to think about it. Sit at your piano and play this piece. It’s the piece they are auditioning for the leading role.”

  The young woman stood entranced, reading the music, and hearing the melody in her mind. Madame Rossi had grown accustomed to Aria getting lost in her own mind, even wandering off in the middle of a sentence could be commonplace if the feeling struck her. She anticipated this being one of those moments but was surprised when Aria looked up at her again.

  “Come with me, I think I can play this fairly quickly, and I’d love a little company today,” she offered a strained smile.

  Madame Rossi nodded, she had not seen the girl in weeks, and she was eager to ask her about the mysterious person whispering to her. The person who
seemed to vanish into the darkness as Aria sang. Madame Rossi followed the girl back to her apartment above the theater. She had visited Aria’s home on a regular basis before Alfonse died but had not been able to bring herself to return in his absence. Everyone felt the loss of the warm and jovial composer, especially those closest to him.

  She sat at the piano and began to play, slowly at first, then increasing to the appropriate tempo as she recognized the tune. It was the very melody she’d heard in her sleep. D’Angelo had been singing it to her as she dreamed. Could this be the music he claimed she had inspired him to write?

  Words could not describe the beauty of the words she found written above the staff. The song was meant to be a duet. She wished there was someone she could sing with to get the full effect D’Angelo intended. Perhaps the composer himself would practice with her if she told him she planned to audition. Aria was momentarily surprised by her own line of thinking. Apparently, she made the decision without even consulting herself. Yes, the feeling in her chest and the lightness of her heart told her this would indeed be the first time she auditioned for a leading role. As she began to read the attached synopsis, Aria became convinced of her decision. The play was about a young woman who lost her true love to the dark beyond. Their connection was strong enough to bring him through the veil as a spirit. Because she wouldn’t let him go, he was stuck in limbo; there but unable to be fully present. In the end, she would realize the man she thought she loved was gone and had to learn to live without him. It hit her hard. It was as though this brilliant composer had plucked the thoughts and feelings from her own mind and soul and deposited them on the pages. Although the man Aria had to learn to live without was not a romantic interest, it was her father.