by Olivia Janae
The sight of the empty stage sent adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream, and for the first time, she felt a shiver of excitement. It was hard to remember she loved her job most of the time, but just then she could feel the excited tingle in her extremities.
With a stiff nod to the union representative, she walked to her seat and settled in as best as she could.
“Candidate number forty-eight.” The representative behind her called to the unseen committee and gave her a nod.
“Right,” she whispered to herself and felt a moment of delight as her mind shut out anything other than what she needed to do right now.
She played a few notes, listening to the sound of the hall and double-checking the tune of her strings. It was blissful, and it was terrifying. She had always been told the acoustics of this hall were some of the best in the world. She now knew that was true.
Taking a final deep breath, she began to play.
It wasn’t perfect, not by any means, but she let herself sway as she folded herself into the music, waiting for the moment someone would stop her and tell her they had heard enough. Only, no one did. She played through each required piece, breathing perhaps a bit shallowly, and when she was through she stopped, unsure of what she should do now. Had she ever been to an audition where they let her play the whole list? Was that a very good sign or a very bad one? It was certainly unprecedented.
She heard a few papers rustle behind the partition and then a quick dismissive “thank you.”
The union rep was at her elbow then, smiling the same smile she would give the very best player and the very worst. “If you could return to the green room. Thank you.”
Kate nodded unsteadily. Next came the first in a series of hard parts: all she could do was wait.
She opted, instead of continuing to practice, to slip her headphones back on and watch a silly comedy on Netflix.
The adult cartoon was helpful, but still, her nerves were starting to get the best of her when the personnel manager finally appeared, four twenty-five-minute episodes later.
He cleared his throat, but there was no need for him to call attention to himself. The moment he arrived, the room had fallen silent as death.
“Lyric Opera Company,” he began, “would like to extend a big thank-you to each and every one of you for being here today. Of course, as musicians ourselves, we know how strenuous an audition can be, not to mention the time commitment involved. For those of you who advanced to the second round, congratulations, and for those who did not, we wish you better luck next time and thank you for your interest.” He paused, taking a deep and dramatic breath that drove the room at large crazy. “All right.” Everyone held their breath. “If your number is called please remain here; if not, you are free to go. Two, five, sixteen, twenty-seven, thirty-three, forty-eight, fifty-two…”
Kate had been sipping her water when her number was called, and upon hearing it, she sucked in a breath and choked. It was a dangerous thing for a moment as her lungs protested the fluid and contracted tightly. No one looked toward her, though; all eyes were fixed on the manager. She jumped to her feet when her coughing fit was through, bouncing and stretching like a boxer, eyes still streaming.
Okay. She had made it.
“A short lunch break will be taken now for the committee, as well as yourselves. Please be back in this room at a quarter to one.”
Kate stared at the man, hoping he was kidding. Food was the last thing she, and she was pretty sure everyone else in this room, wanted.
Despite the fact that this break was routine, she was always surprised by it. It was a cruel form of torture.
She ignored the grumbles and moans of the people around her, either packing their belongings to leave or shuffling around and debating what to do during their unwanted break.
“Did they call your number?” a small, plain woman with an unnaturally high and nasal voice asked when Kate didn’t leave like the majority of the group.
“Oh, uh, yeah. They did.”
“Mine, too. Are you going to go get something to eat?”
“I don’t know. I’m not really hungry.”
The woman laughed a little. “No, I’m not either, but I suppose the break isn’t really for us, is it? It’s for the committee.”
“Yeah, I guess I would rather have them happy with full bellies than grumpy, empty ones.”
“I think I would have to agree.” The other cellist hesitated beside Kate, her expression torn. “I can never decide if I should eat during the break or if I shouldn’t. I’m never hungry, I don’t know how anyone could be, but you know that if you don’t, then by three you’ll be starving.”
“Exactly.” Kate chuckled and offered her hand. “Kate.”
“Haley. What about a light snack and maybe a granola bar for later?”
“That’s kind of what I was thinking. You want to join me?”
“Please.”
It was always good to find an audition buddy; someone who was putting themselves through the same torment as you, all for the sake of a possible long-term contract. It helped to break up the stresses of the day.
They walked to a nearby bistro, sharing some congenial small talk.
“Yeah, I’m local.” Kate shrugged. “But to be fair only recently. I’m new with a chamber group here. Where are you located?”
“New Orleans.”
“Wow, that was quite a trek then.” It never ceased to shock Kate how far people would travel for an audition, especially a good one like this. She had done it herself, of course. It was just part of the life. Luckily audition expenses were tax-deductible. “That’s one of the few places I haven’t been. Do you like it?”
They ordered a small meal and a snack for later, in case they advanced to the final round.
“Can we go back?” Haley asked. “Would you mind? It makes me nervous not being there.”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Just before they left, Haley stopped at a table. Kate watched, amused, as she picked up the salt shaker and tossed a little over her left shoulder, spilling invisible grains across the floor.
“Good to see the New Orleans stereotypes are true,” Kate chuckled.
Haley laughed and gave an unrepentant head shake. “Buying food that you will only need if you advance to the final round doesn’t feel like a jinx to you?”
Kate’s laughter faded a little. Now that the thought was in her head, she knew she wouldn’t get rid of it. She paused and then, taking the shaker from Haley’s hand, shook the salt over her shoulder. Her companion giggled behind cupped hands.
It was another two hours before the personnel manager entered the room again, running very late but looking stuffed and happy from his large lunch, while everyone else in the room looked a little worse for wear. “All right, everyone, thank you for your patience. We apologize for running so far behind. Now! We are ready to begin the second round. Will numbers forty-eight, twenty-three, and seven follow me, please?”
Kate’s heart leapt into her throat. She turned to her new-found friend, spooked. “Crap, that was fast. I’m in the first group! That’s bad, right? The first group is bad.”
“That’s okay!” Haley hissed in her ear. “That means that everyone after you will have to be compared to you. That’s a good thing!”
Kate knew her eyes were a little wild when she blinked, wondering how she could be so nice when she also had to compare herself to Kate. “What number are you?”
“Three. Go, go! He’s waiting!” Haley smiled. “Remember to have fun! I’m sure the salt will do you some good.”
Kate silently hoped that if she did advance again, then Haley would, too. She liked her. Granted, Haley looked like a frumpy schoolteacher, but that didn’t surprise Kate; the cello often attracted women who needed a little sin in their life.
It would be a shame for her to come all of this way only to go home again.
Kate was back in her individual practice room, but this time there
would be no calming meditations. She didn’t pace as she wanted to, but it was impossible to stay completely calm. She sat in her chair, focused entirely on a small crack in the floor and just forced herself to breathe, in and out, in and out, slowly and steadily.
The wait was short. It felt like minutes, perhaps it even was, before there was a knock at the door. “Number forty-eight, we are on the person before you.”
“Okay.” Her voice came out in a wobbly croak, and while that was embarrassing, she knew that she probably wasn’t the only one who sounded like that today.
Again, she was escorted to the door and, again, to the gigantic, partitioned stage. As before, the union representative announced her number and, again, she played a few notes, adjusting and tuning before she launched into her repertoire.
As she closed the last note of the final piece, Kate couldn’t have been prouder of herself if she tried. There was no such thing as a perfect performance, she knew that wasn’t possible, but she had very nearly achieved it. Her sound had been smooth, round, and well-balanced. The melodies had just fallen from her fingertips as if by magic. Her heart was pounding, and for once, it was not because she was afraid.
“Number forty-eight, could you play that second piece over again, please? But this time, a bit softer.”
Kate obliged, and when she was ushered from the stage for the second time that day, she was practically skipping.
She knew she had advanced before her number was even called an hour and a half later. She didn’t cheer or swoon as a few others did, just nodded, determined and ready for the final round, wishing it would hurry up before she lost this killer edge she was riding.
Next to her Haley was frowning.
“They didn’t call you,” Kate realized with a pang.
“No. My Smetana was off.”
“But the salt!”
“It worked for you.” Haley smiled a truly genuine smile and winked.
Kate felt guilty as she watched Haley pack up, disappointed her companion would not progress with her. This was just how it worked. It was cutthroat, bloody, and there were no apologies. She waved sadly as Haley left the room, hoping they would meet at an audition again. The odds were they would, and if they did, Kate would take her to dinner.
She didn’t have a lot of time to dwell on her guilt. As quickly as possible, she turned her thoughts to the final round.
This time she was sure that she was going to vomit. There was no doubt about it, and there was no stopping it. When her nerves finally took over and she rushed to the bathroom, she was not the only one in there.
She avoided eye contact with the person at the sink when she exited the stall, washing her face and hands. “Some job, huh?”
The woman laughed with only a touch of bitterness to her voice. “Yeah, some job.”
Kate had more time in her warm-up room than the last two rounds. She took full advantage, practicing the music for the last round diligently, ignoring the cellos in other rooms that were doing the same.
Her thoughts were starting to turn against her. This was the final round, which meant this round they would remove the scrim, and she would finally see the committee. That was terrifying. There was a solid chance that she would know someone seated at that table—Altman or maybe even Jacqueline.
She chuckled miserably at the thought of Jacqueline’s eyes burrowing into her from the audience, expectant and so much like Vivian’s. For a single horrible moment, Kate pictured Vivian at the table, a knowing glint in her eyes, her Julia-kissed lips twisting into a smirk.
Kate scowled. She supposed that it might not be Julia she had been kissing. She had looked more chummy with Julia, but that other woman, she never got her name, could have been the one.
How many people was Vivian seeing?
Was she – she gulped as she wondered – was she sleeping with any of them?
Why hadn’t she thought to ask Charlie that?
Kate didn’t allow herself to indulge in if-I-win thoughts; that would require more salt over her shoulder. Still she couldn’t help but wonder: if she won, could she, would she, find the courage to smack some sense into Vivian? Was it worth it? Did she want that? Fate would clearly be on her side if she had just won. Maybe she would get lucky.
She imagined what the day would look like if she won the job of her dreams, stability, a salary that would put most to shame, as well as the heart and forgiveness of her former love. It was all too much. Would she even be able to handle that? If that day happened then she was sure that unicorns would also, of course, fall from the sky and hell would have inevitably frozen over, shops around town would hand out free ice cream, and Julia plus the random woman from the dinner would be shot from the planet to Jupiter where they would – of course, live a full happy lives – far away from Vivian.
“Ms. Flynn, we’re on the person before you.”
“What?” she cried, nearly dropping her cello. She had been daydreaming instead of practicing.
Heart pounding, she stood, readied her cello and followed the personnel manager, all the while wanting to run for the hills.
She wondered again if she would find Vivian at the audition table. Nausea washed over her, thick and saccharine.
That was stupid. Vivian wouldn’t be here. There was no reason for her to be. Kate’s tongue felt suddenly sticky and sour, her throat bobbing. Before she could stop herself, she lunged for the small garbage can ahead of them and was sick yet again.
She squeezed her eyes closed, willing her stomach to settle, mentally swearing and wishing that she could be anywhere but there, her eyes stinging with watery humiliation. “I’m so sorry,” she squawked, hanging onto the trash can for dear life.
The personnel manager had jumped back when she had rushed for the garbage, but now he just bit back a smile. “It’s quite all right. To tell you the truth, it has happened before. We have a janitor on hand.”
“That ... that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Are you ready to move forward? We could wait for another minute.”
Her stomach pitched again, but she swallowed. “No, I’m okay.”
He just shook his head and led her the rest of the way down the hallway.
They stopped at the stage door. “You sure that you are ready? There are no trash bins on stage.”
Kate cleared her throat, not really appreciating the joke.
“Okay. Good luck, miss.”
The door swept open with a crash, and Kate stepped inside the massive hall.
The house was easily quadruple the size of the WCCE’s hall, which was saying something. She had known of its grandeur, of course, but seeing it in its vast glory from this vantage point was stunning. The small group of judges was dwarfed by the seats, seeming at once too close and very far away.
Looking out at the number of seats she wasn’t so sure she wanted the job anyway, not if this was how many people she would be playing for each night. It was too much pressure.
“Katelyn Flynn?” a man at the table asked.
Kate jumped. She had frozen a foot into the room. “I’m sorry. Number forty-eight, Katelyn Flynn.”
“Take a seat please, Ms. Flynn.”
She nodded, breathing only slightly easier now that she had seen there were no familiar faces lingering amongst the judges. She did, however, recognize the principal cellist for the opera company, which made her stomach somersault.
She sat stiffly, trying to relax.
“Ms. Flynn, we would like you to begin with the Humperdinck—scene two, please. Whenever you’re ready.”
She slowly let her bow rest on the strings, amping herself up as much as possible, but – she couldn’t. She tried to reach for the reservoir of strength and energy and found it suddenly gone. “I’m sorry, can I have a second?”
“Take your time.”
She stretched, taking a few deep breaths and shaking her head gruffly. She didn’t have time for this.
You’ve already made it to the finals. You’re a
badass. Everyone will think you’re a badass, and no one will even notice that you didn’t win. Just doing what you did is a huge deal, so relax and play! Have fun, Kate. Just have fun. That’s all that’s important now.
She spoke to herself sternly, forcefully, and it settled her nerves considerably.
She thanked the judges again, and this time when she set her bow on the strings, she began to play.
In the first piece, she clipped two notes as her hands shook with nerves. She almost walked out after she played it. If the last round had been a boost to her confidence, then this had ruined it entirely. She knew she was done. There was no room for forgiveness at the point, only perfection.
She blinked fast as the committee asked her to try it again, knowing she would be mortified if the tears that were blinding her vision fell.
She gave it another try, and though she knew she played it well, it didn’t matter. She was screwed.
She couldn’t believe it.
They named the second piece, and she played it quickly and efficiently, complying when the people behind the table scribbled their notes and asked her to play something again, but quicker or louder.
“Okay, the last thing we would like you to do is play through the Bizet again with Andrea.”
The principal cellist nodded and stood. Kate watched her approach mournfully, wishing this all could just be over so she could go home to Max and her life. She got it. Everyone who passed a certain point in the audition needed and deserved a full chance, but she was ready. She didn’t need the nicety. She didn’t need to make a fool of herself with someone she would never play in a section with; someone who hadn’t tanked this audition. She couldn’t stop beating herself up and knew she wouldn’t until she had consumed at least three shots of whatever liquor John handed her.
Kate was surprised, though, at just how fun it was to play with the section leader. It was like driving a finely-tuned race car down a beautiful, curvy road. They flowed together, bending and twisting with the curves of the music, anticipating one another and meeting easily in the middle. Though Kate knew she hadn’t won the audition, she was smiling a little when they dropped their bow arms in unison.