"It looks more like an engagement ring," she asserted with dark, suspicious eyes. "Who gave it to you?"
"My boyfriend," I said. "Today. You gave permission for him to be here."
"It looks too much like an engagement ring. I won't have any of my prodigies looking like she is on her way to the altar. I don't waste time on young women who have only dishes, washing machines, and diapers in their eyes. You are not to have a serious relationship yet,"
"What?"
"You heard me. No one gets engaged or develops a serious romantic relationship while studying and living here." she ordered. "It takes away from his or her serious concentration and it puts an unnecessary onus on us while we are trying to develop your professional persona. Remove it at once. If you must keep it, keep it where it will not be seen, preferably buried in some drawer,
"I've spoken to you once before about this. and I thought you understood. I want my pupils, especially my young women, to have an air of virginity about them, a purity that makes them wholly desirable. Whether you are a virgin in fact or not," she added with her lips twisted, "Well?"
The tears that were burning my eyes made her look foggy and cloudy.
"Can't I keep it on and tell people I'm not engaged if they ask?"
"I will not debate it. We cannot permit our special guests to wait a moment longer. Are you a part of this school or are you not? Did you waste your parents' time and money or did you not? I'll see to it that you are taken to the airport and put on a plane for home this very night," she threatened.
I sucked back my sobs and slipped off the ring. "Very good. Come along," she said.
"May I go to the bathroom and wash my face first?" I asked. My eyes felt like shattered marbles.
"No," she said. "It's better that you look a bit frightened. They enjoy it."
She started out, waited for me to follow, and then continued to the ballroom, where everyone was already having champagne and filling the air with laughter and compliments. I heard Edmond Senetsky's voice booming above all others, bragging about how he had found his mother her newest students.
"It's like visiting garden after garden and plucking the most beautiful of flowers. Quite a little bouquet of talent. eh?"
Chandler, who wore a look of worry on his face because I hadn't arrived with my fellow performers, was standing with Barry across the room. He started toward me the moment he saw me enter. but Ms. Fairchild was there first, ordering me to take my place with the others. We were to greet people first, like newly married couples greet their guests, standing in a line. I was handed a glass of champagne and told to take my place between Rose and Howard.
"Where's Evan?" I asked, gazing around and not seeing him.
"I had to send him back to his hotel," Rose said. He looked tired. and I can't spend that much time with him now. He'll be here tomorrow before he heads back,"
I nodded, half listening. My body was still trembling from the demands Madame Senetsky had just made. My hand was shaking so much, in fact. I had to sip some champagne quickly so it wouldn't spill from the glass. I glanced at Ms. Fairchild to see if she was watching and condemning me for drinking too fast. She did have her eyes on me, but she didn't look any different, her eves still their normal critical selves, searching for a reason to whip one of her precious rules at us.
"Are you all right?" Rose asked.
I started to say no when Chandler approached. he said. "You were terrific." He turned to the others. "All of you were great."
"Excuse me," Ms. Fairchild told him with a plastic smile. She stepped directly between him and me. 'Please ask your friends to wait politely at the rear of the room. Introductions to important people are to begin."
She widened that smile and walked away. Chandler and Rose had overheard.
"How rude," she said. "Like our friends aren't important people. That's why I didn't want Evan hanging around and feeling unwanted and belittled."
"Don't worry. She can't make me feel
unwanted." Chandler whispered in my ear. "I'll be eagerly waiting for you in the bleachers."
He looked about and then quickly kissed me on the cheek before hurrying off to join Barry. I caught Madame Senetsky glaring at me with those eyes that could condemn someone to the gallows with a single glance.
"I feel like I'm on display," Rose muttered through a forced smile. "Just like I did when I was in the beauty contest. Why can't we just be ourselves and mingle? This feels so artificial. Who stands in a line like this at a party and lets people gape at them?"
"We do." Howard said proudly. "The creme de la creme."
The train of people began to line up to pass before us. Madame Senetsky introducing each of us, making sure to introduce Jack Ferante first.
"I see some movie-star potential here." he declared, looking at Rose.
Most everyone was enthusiastic about us and our work, raining down his or her appreciation in a shower of compliments. Howard was the best at soaking them up. He seemed to swell with every passing moment, the glow in his face becoming absolutely luminous. Like the rest of us, however, he maintained enough modesty to satisfy Madame Senetsky. I wasn't modest so much as I was too frightened to say anything but a simple "thank you."
After the formal introductions, we were joined by our teachers, who directed us to those more involved in our individual fields. The room was filled with conversations about music, dance, and the theater. Names of famous people were casually thrown about as if they were all close friends with the guests who were present. Some of them probably were. My most interesting conversation was with a viola player who was with the New York
Philharmonic. He told me about their rehearsals, how he had been chosen, his own schooling and
preparation, and what his life was like living in New York and traveling with the orchestra.
"I have no doubt," he said. "that you will end up with one of our finest symphony orchestras. too. You don't know how lucky you are to have this
opportunity. I wish I had been given it when I was your age. For me it was quite a struggle, but for you, with your talent and Madame Senetsky's connections, it should be so much easier. I can think of no one who carries more respect and influence in New York, as well as the world's most important cities, than she does."
I thanked him, and when I turned. I saw Madame Senetsky had been standing very close, eavesdropping on everything he had said to me and I had said to him. Our eyes met for an instant and I saw the pleasure in her face hearing all the wonderful things about herself. She nodded at me as if to say, "See? Now you know why you had better do exactly as I tell you." Then she turned her attention to Rose.
For a moment. I appeared to be free. There was no one with whom I had to make conversation. It was as if a fresh breeze had come into the room. I could take a deep breath and let myself relax. It was shortlived, however. As soon as I turned toward Chandler. Mr. Bergman was there with a friend of his who taught at Juilliard.
"Madame Senetsky is lucky you didn't audition for me," he said. "You would have had a scholarship and be attending my school.
"But," he added with a small sigh, "I'll have to admit she gets her students placed well and on to very successful careers. She has an amazing track record."
"Which is why I am here in the first place," Mr. Bergman told him.
His friend assured me I would be working for a prestigious orchestra some day soon.
"Just work hard." he said. "and listen keenly to everything Madame Senetsky tells you," he admonished and walked off. If I hear that from one more person, I thought. I'll scream.
When I gazed about. I saw how all of the others were glowing. Thankfully, it was a very successful evening. Toward the end of the reception. Madame Senetsky expressed that very sentiment to us. She looked proud and content.
Finally released from my obligatory chatter. I hurried to join Chandler. Barry and Rose fell in with us and the four of us started out of the room, intending to spend some time together in the parlor. but Ms.
Fairchild caught up with us in the hallway.
"Remember curfew, girls," she warned. She tapped the face of her watch, "Twenty more minutes and your friends will have to leave the house and you're all to be in bed."
She marched ahead of us to join Madame Senetsky in the entryway saying good night to the guests.
"Twenty minutes! That woman is like a pail of ice water," I moaned.
Her warning did have the effect of cooling down our excitement. From the way we were all seated in the parlor and the looks of disappointment on our faces, anyone would think they had walked in on a funeral.
Steven joined us a moment later, bopping in like his legs consisted of springs.
"What a night, huh?" he cried. I bribed a waiter to give me an extra glass of champagne." He heard no response and looked at each of us. "What happened? Someone's pet rock die?"
"Nothing happened, Steven, except ten minutes ago. Ms. Fairchild made sure to tell us we had less than twenty minutes to spend with each other. Chandler came all the way from Boston!" I cried.
"We don't get to see each other very much even though Barry's here in New York, Our relentless schedule makes it very difficult." Rose added. "You'd think we'd get a little more consideration. I hate these curfews and restrictions. Other people our age don't have them."
"The price of fame!" Steven joked. No one laughed. He gazed at us all for a moment and then, after looking behind him to be sure he wouldn't be overheard, stepped farther into the room and closer to us all. "How about me showing Laurel and Hardy here how to get back into the building after Dracula's daughter bolts the entrance?"
"What?" Chandler asked. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about sneaking you guys back in and upstairs. It's easy. You just go around the side of the building and climb the fire escape to their windows," he said. "They're on the same side and have the same landing."
Rose looked at me and I felt my body freeze. "How do you know about that?" she asked him. Steven shrugged,
"I just happened to look out and notice, and then. when I was walking about the grounds. I saw how to do it." He turned to Chandler and Barry. "You'll have to pull yourselves up a bit on the ladder. I don't imagine it will be too clean, so you might spoil your nice clothes, but," he said glancing from Rose to me and then back to Rose. "it might be worth it."
Chandler looked at me to see what I thought of the idea. I couldn't help but be afraid.
"If they get caught." Rose said. "we could be thrown out tomorrow."
"So don't let them get caught. Jeez," Steven said. "Isn't there any adventure in your guys?" We were all silent.
"Or any male hormones?" he added, followed by his thin, silly laugh as he sauntered out of the parlor.
"What do you think?" Chandler asked Barry. I'm game for it if you are. Girls?"
Rose widened her eyes and turned to me. I looked at Chandler, who was staring at my hand, just realizing I wasn't wearing his ring.
"What happened to it?" he asked, nodding at my fingers,
"What?" Rose asked.
I bit down on my lip.
We could hear Ms. Fairchild's voice in the hallway.
"Do it," I blurted rather than answer his question.
"All right," Barry said smiling.
Rose looked terrified and surprised at me. When Ms. Fairchild made her presence nearby obvious. I suggested the boys leave.
"There's only a few minutes left anyway," I said. "Our windows will be open halfway. Steven's right. We're on the same landing, so it's easy."
Chandler smiled.
"I'll be like Romeo, climbing the balcony," he said.
"It's just about as dangerous for everyone," Rose muttered and we stood up to walk with them to the front door. Ms. Fairchild followed us with her gaze and was standing behind us when we all said our good nights.
"You did very well, girls," she told us. "Very well. Now get what I'm sure is a much-needed night's rest."
She pivoted and marched away, her heels ticking over the tiles until she disappeared around the corner. Rose looked at me. She smiled with
excitement. We held hands and hurried up the stairs. At my doorway, we parted.
"Have a much-needed night's rest," she mimicked. I laughed, took a deep breath, and entered my bedroom.
For a moment I stood there staring at the window. Do I dare? Should I just leave it down and forget this idea? Was it worth the risk?
As I approached the window, I felt a tingling start at the base of my stomach. I wanted Chandler. I wanted him to hold me and kiss me and comfort me. I wanted to be loved like I had never been loved. What right had that woman to demand I take off his expression of affection, my beautiful ring? Why should we let her control our very heartbeats, our every quickened breath, our laughter and our tears? No one should have such authority over another.
I slipped the ring back onto my finger and held it up in the moonlight. Its glitter reassured me.
Partly out of defiance and partly out of the longing I had for him. I lifted that window and slowly brought it to a position halfway open. Excitement seemed to explode in my heart, sending a thunderous beat and reverberation through every nerve, dousing me in a warmth that cupped my breasts and made my lips wet with anticipation.
I turned from the window and went into the bathroom. where I stared at myself in the mirror for a few moments. Then. I unbuttoned my blouse and peeled it off. I lowered my skirt and stood there in my bra and panties for a moment. I brushed down my hair and then, after a deep sigh, stepped back into my room.
Chandler was already standing there,
silhouetted in the moonlight that poured through my window. He did not speak. I flipped off the bathroom light and crossed to my closet without speaking either. My heart was pounding. I was playing out my own fantasy, imagining he wasn't really there. He was a dream instead. I hung up my blouse and my skirt and then turned back to him. He hadn't moved. His face was still in dark shadows.
I went to my dresser and, with my back to him. I undid my bra and slipped it down my arms. I put it in the drawer and closed my eyes. My body was tingling all over, my nipples so hard, they ached.
"Honey," he whispered. "I do love you so much."
I stood there. waiting. First. I felt his lips on my neck and then he kissed my shoulders and pressed his face against my hair. He wrapped his arms about my waist and held me against him. I let my head fall back and his kisses climbed up my neck again. Then his hands moved over my breasts, cupping them, strumming my nipples, washing wave after wave of excitement up and into my face, which felt so hot, I thought I could cook an egg on my cheek.
Slowly I turned around and we kissed, long and hard, both of us breathing very fast.
"I want you so much, my whole body is in pain," he said. How wonderful that made me feel.
When I was a little girl, my Grandad made me believe that desire was the road to hell. He had me terrified of myself, my dreams, my urges and feelings. There was a time when I thought I was the most sinful of people, feeling guilty because I had developed into a woman.
It wasn't until I met Chandler that I began to look at myself differently, and when I learned about Grandad's own sinful acts. I realized why Mommy often chastised him by throwing back at him the Biblical quotes he often whipped at me.
"He without sin cast the first stone." Mommy would tell him. and Grandad would shift his eyes quickly and walk off mumbling to himself.
"Pay him no heed." Mommy would urge me. "He's all twisted up inside,"
When all these thoughts battled within my dizzy brain, I heard a voice inside me whispering, telling me that what I felt was not evil, but beautiful. Two people who truly cared for each other, who loved each other dearly, made the most beautiful music in the rhythm of their hearts. The ability to love each other wholly and purely was truly a blessing, not a sin. I longed to bury Grandad's warnings and threats with him, once and for all, now and forever.
And there was only one way to do it.
Chandler and I did not speak. We moved to my bed so quietly, gracefully, it almost seemed not to be happening. He stood beside the bed, gazing down at me. The moonlight played on his eyes, his lips, whitening his face. His slow, deliberate
movements combined with that made me feel as if we were both performing an ancient love scene in some Kabuki theater. His clothing fell from him like a curtain. He slipped off my panties. Moments later we were both naked, holding and kissing each other with an increasing desperation.
"We've got to be careful,' the sensible side of me managed to say.
"Don't worry. I'm prepared," he whispered.
Grandad had made the act of love into something bestial, ugly, raw, and violent in my mind. He knew nothing of tenderness. He knew nothing about bringing one heart into another, turning two separate people into one. We were both reaching so deeply into each other, we surely touched each other's very souls. I thought. In my musical mind. I felt our lovemaking building to a crescendo. It took my breath away. I clung to him as if I believed I would fall forever and ever if I didn't hold on to him. I was squeezing him so hard. I was sure he was in some pain, but it was an exquisite pain. He did all he could to keep me from stopping, crying. "No, no, not yet," as if his lingering within me would keep us bonded forever.
And then, both spent, we released each other and lay there side by side, catching our breaths, falling back to earth, dropping into our separate bodies.
"I don't see how it's possible to love anyone more than I love you. Honey," he said after a few moments of just listening to each other breathe.
I smiled, turned, and kissed him first on the tip of his nose and then his lips.
"Nor can I, Chandler."
"Why didn't you have the ring on your finger before?" he asked, touching it now and holding my fingers in his hand.
"Madame Senetsky thought it looked too much like an engagement ring."
"So? I don't understand,"
"She would prefer her students to look totally dedicated to their professions. She wants us literally to have no other interests or goals in our lives but that."
"How can being in love with someone hurt your effort to become a successful musician?" he asked, grimacing with confusion.
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