by Rico, Lauren
“What…? What happened?”
“Miss Kutter, are you okay?” I have my most concerned face on as I hover over her.
“I– I don’t know. What happened?”
“Do you recognize me? I’m Jeremy Corrigan, one of the Kreisler competitors.”
She starts to shake her head but then something clicks in her mind. Her eyebrows knit together as she strains to recollect me through the shock.
“Yes,” she says slowly. “Yes, of course. Jeremy…”
“Miss Kutter, you took quite a tumble. But I don’t think you hit your head. Your foot though... I think that might be broken.”
“Yes,” she repeats, glancing down the length of her body to where her left boot is a little too far to the left. I’m amazed she can’t feel the pain yet.
Adrenaline, man, best narcotic on the planet.
“Lady, this kid saved your life!” a transit cop is saying over my shoulder. “If he hadn’t been there to catch you, you would’ve gone right over the edge of the platform and onto the track.”
Louise looks from the cop back to me.
“Is that true, Jeremy?”
I shrug and shake my head dismissively.
“Nah. It was nothing. Instinct. I was just so stunned to see that it was you. You really need to be more careful if you’re going to wear narrow heels like that. They can get caught on just about anything.”
Like my foot.
She’s trying to sit up now.
“Whoa! Lady, you gotta stay put. The ambulance is on its way,” the cop says.
I can see the confusion in her face lifting a little and I’m fairly certain that the pain is about to hit her like... well, like a train, for lack of a better simile. I’m not wrong.
Louise starts to moan, quietly at first. “Oh… oh, I feel it now...”
I squat down beside her and take her hand in mine, while the cop clears the nosy onlookers around us.
“Okay, Louise. It’s going to be okay. They’re going to take you to the hospital and get you all patched up.”
Even as I say this I can hear the squall of the ambulance siren nearby. She grips my hand tightly, tears starting to flow from her eyes.
“Oh, God, it hurts so much…” she says through clenched teeth.
“It’s okay, just squeeze my hand as hard as you need to.”
She forces herself to focus on me, to really see me.
“You saved my life?” she asks.
“I did.”
“I don’t… I don’t know how I can…”
“Enough of that now. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
I can see the EMT’s coming down the stairs, backboard in hand.
“They’re here, Louise. They’ll give you something for the pain in just a second.”
“Jeremy…”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
I smile down at her. She’s struggling to say something else.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers up at me finally. “I’m really so sorry…”
“I know,” I say in a flat tone that belies the concern on my face. “Don’t do it again, Louise. There might not be someone there to catch you next time.”
By the time she can process what I’ve said, she’s surrounded by paramedics and I’m back out on the sidewalk, zipping up my jacket against the frigid morning air.
44
“Wow, you look amazing,” Julia whispers reverently when I open the door to my dressing room.
She’s right. I’m wearing the new tux I bought last week in the city.
“Jeremy, it’s a full house,” she reports excitedly, bouncing up and down on her toes. “I mean the concert hall is packed to the rafters. They don’t even have seats for me and Brett so we’re going to watch from backstage.”
“Excellent!”
“Have you warmed up?” She asks, taking a seat on the couch next to my horn.
“Yup, good to go. Did you spot the judges panel?”
She shakes her head.
“No, they’ve got them set up in the broadcast booth. No telling who’s back there.”
I can tell you who’s not there. Louise Kutter.
“Can I get anything for you? Water? Something to eat?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’d say I’d cook something special for you later… but we both know how that would turn out,” she says with a sly smile.
I can’t help it, I have to smile back. She really is an appallingly bad cook.
“Yeah… thanks, but no thanks.”
A quick rap on the door and my brother sticks his head in.
“Hey, man! You should see the crowd out there! More than the first two nights combined! Of course… they could just be a bunch of morbid lookie loos wanting to see where the other horn player dropped dead…”
“Brett!” Julia squeaks loudly. “That is not funny!”
He gives me a sheepish shrug.
“You’re right,” he says in what I recognize to be his most placating tone. “I’m sorry Julia. That was in very bad taste.”
She gives him a ‘humph’ of disapproval, and shakes her head.
“Really, I’m sorry!” he holds up his hands in surrender. “I know he was a good guy. Sometimes, it’s just easier to laugh about stuff like this.”
Oh. Good save, bro. I’ll have to remember to use that one myself.
“So what did you finally settle on for an encore?” Julia asks, offering her forgiveness by way of changing the subject.
“Oh, man, you’ve got to do the Flight of the Bumblebee. You really haul ass on that thing,” Brett says with the enthusiasm of someone who’s already a few beers into a six-pack.
“Actually, I changed my mind,” I say as I run a comb through my hair one last time; just a few more minutes to go.
“Oh?” asks Julia.
“Yeah. I’m doing that Chuck Mangione Lullaby.”
I can see her puzzled expression in the mirror.
“Cal’s encore?” she asks.
“Well, it’s not like he owned it or anything...”
“When did you have a chance to learn it?”
“I don’t know. I was interested in it after he mentioned it.”
“Like last week? I haven’t heard you practice it once…”
Another knock at the door cuts her off before I have a chance to do it.
“Jeremy, time to head backstage,” the stage manager calls.
“That’s me, then,” I say, picking up my horn and placing it under my arm.
“Where’s your music?” Brett asks.
“No music,” I say proudly.
“You memorized everything?” he asks incredulously.
“Yup.”
I hold out my hand for Julia to take, more as a distraction than anything else. I don’t want her thinking too hard about this encore thing and it works. Her confused expression melts away and she grabs hold as the three of us head toward the stage, and my destiny
They weren’t kidding. The audience is absolutely overflowing with people. I’m standing in the stage left wings, peering out from behind the curtains as the orchestra tunes.
“Good luck out there,” Maestro Sutton says, putting a hand on my shoulder as he walks out past me to take his place at the podium. There is a healthy round of applause for him, and once he’s settled in front of the Symphony an expectant hush falls over the audience. I take one last swig of water and hand it to the stage manager. I straighten my tie, take a deep breath and stroll out on stage with the confidence and charisma of a politician on Election Day. The audience applauds loudly as I walk to the podium to shake hands with the Maestro and the Concert Master. But then I do something a little unexpected.
I walk to the very front edge of the stage and face the audience. I don’t have a microphone but the acoustics are great in here and I think I’ll be heard well enough. I’m sure the Maestro is wondering what the hell I’m doing. He was just about ready t
o give the downbeat.
“Good evening,” I say in my loudest, clearest voice. “I would like to dedicate this recital to Calvin Burridge. A true friend, a brilliant musician and a good man. He will be missed by all those whose lives he touched. It should be Cal standing on this stage tonight, but I’m humbled and honored to stand here in his stead.”
I give the slightest nod to signal I have finished and the entire audience erupts into deafening applause. It’s even more than I expected. I walk back to where a chair has been set out for me and I push it to the side, choosing to give this recital standing. The audience is still clamoring when the Maestro catches my eye and gives me a raised eyebrow. I’m not sure if it’s about the impromptu speech or the impromptu decision to stand. I smile and give him a little shrug. To my surprise, he returns both and raises his baton to begin.
And then, there is the magic. Even I’m not prepared for how good I am on this particular night. Without the burden of nerves or fear or guilt, I’m free to be brilliant.
After the single orchestral chord that opens the Strauss Horn Concerto No.1, it’s all me. My tone is triumphant and brilliant as I land the opening solo fanfare the way a skater lands a triple axel. Like me, it is absolutely fearless. When the orchestra rejoins, we are off on a musical journey that moves from the sweet and languid to the bold and fiery. The third and final section of the concerto builds from almost nothing into a blazing display of bravura. And just when you think it can’t grow any more intense... it does, as I mount one last finger-blistering climb to the high C.
They are on their feet and calling “bravo” before I can even take the horn from my lips. I allow myself the luxury of taking a moment to let it all soak in. After a deep bow, I straighten up and look out across the floor and balcony seats at the thousands of people standing for me. They are clapping for me. It just confirms what I have known all along, that this was never meant to be Cal’s night. It is mine. The single greatest moment in my life.
Finally, it’s all falling into place.
Part Three: Julia
45
I’m standing in a sea of pink flowers. Dr. Sam and Matthew both know I love any and all blooms of the pink variety, so they have ensured there are plenty of them for me to enjoy in my dressing room. There are also a good number of newspapers. Brett and Jeremy and I have been collecting them from newsstands all over town, all day. The Times, The Post, The Arts Review, even Newsday and the Connecticut Courier are proclaiming Jeremy’s brilliance in the face of tragedy. They say he has single-handedly rescued the Kreisler Competition from its nosedive into a sea of lurid headlines and reminded the world of the healing powers of music. I couldn’t be more proud of him.
“Jeremy, would you please get my zipper for me?” I ask, after getting tired of wrestling with it.
I’d hoped that Matthew would at least stop by to wish me luck in person, but there’s been no sign of him all evening. Maybe he’s decided not to come. Maybe…
I stop myself. I can’t worry about that right now, my mind needs to be on my music, my performance.
Jeremy tugs the zipper of my black velvet dress the last few inches. It’s nothing fancy, but I love it. The way it sits just off my shoulders, the way it hugs my waist tightly before it flares out into a soft, flowing skirt. It makes me feel pretty, and so does the man standing behind me in the mirror. He kisses one of my bare shoulders and I feel the electricity throughout my entire body.
Things have been tense between us for the last few weeks, but I know that’s only because of the pressures of the competition. Once that’s over, I’m sure he’ll go back to being his sweet, loving self. Until then, I do my best to gauge his mood and make him happy. I’m good at that.
“I have something for you,” he says, pulling a tiny satin pouch from his pocket.
“Really?” I ask with sudden excitement. Of course he’d come up with some grand romantic gesture.
“What is it?”
“Oh, just a little something I really thought you should have for tonight.”
“What, what, what?” I ask, bouncing up and down on my toes.
“Calm down!” he laughs. “Now, close your eyes and don't open them until I tell you to.”
I do as he asks.
“Oh, Jeremy, I’m so excited,” I say. “I mean, after last night, there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re going to take the gold, but I feel so lucky just to be here. And to have you with me…”
I feel him fasten something around my neck. Jewelry! How extravagant! How sweet.
“Okay, open your eyes!” he says excitedly.
I do, and suddenly I’m frozen, ice cold to my core. My hand touches the emerald that sparkles against the black velvet.
“But this is the necklace. The necklace from Montauk,” I say slowly.
“I know!” he says. “It looked so beautiful on you, I knew I had to go back and get it.”
What? No, he wouldn’t. Would he?
“You went back there? To… to that shop?”
He nods proudly.
“And was she there?”
“Who? Your mother?
I wince at his use of the word. Did he really think that this would make me happy?
“Jeremy…”
There is a rapping on the door before I can finish the thought.
“Julia, you’re on in five!” a voice calls from outside.
I take a deep breath and my hand falls from the pendent. I know his intentions were good and it’s not worth making a big deal out of this, so I smile and give him one more, quick embrace.
“Thank you for thinking of me,” I say, holding him tightly. “I love you so much, Jeremy.”
He leans down and his lips find mine for a long deep kiss. Finally, I pull away with a giggle.
“Hey, can we pick this up later? I have someplace I need to be right now,” I smile up at him. His eyes are more brown than green today as he looks back down at me, and they are crinkling around the edges in that way which makes my heart beat just a little bit faster.
“I just... there’s something I really need to say before you go out there, Jules,” he says.
“Jeremy, I don’t really have time…” I start to protest, but then he’s down on one knee.
Oh. My. God. Is he really going to ask me to marry him right here? Right now? This is insane!
“Jeremy?”
He takes my hand in his and holds it tightly.
“Jules, we haven’t known each other very long,” he starts, “but sometimes you just know, right?”
He seems to be waiting for a response, so I nod, trying to keep myself from screaming ‘Yes!’ before he can even ask the question.
“These last months have been some of the best of my life,” he is saying. “I can’t tell you how much satisfaction it has given me to see you transform from a timid little mouse…”
Mouse? He’s going to bring up the Mouse thing now?
“…to a pathetic, lovesick, ignorant whore.”
What? Wait a minute… somehow, I’m not processing what he’s saying. I’m hearing the words, but they don’t match the loving adoration that’s on his face. This must be a joke. A really, really bad joke.
“Jeremy, that’s not very funny…”
But, he keeps going as if I haven’t spoken.
“I was the one who found your slut mother, Jules. I was the one who brought you together. And you did not disappoint. Oh, God, how I wish I’d had a camera to record your pitiful little face when you recognized her!”
My hand has grown clammy in his. I try to pull it away, but he holds it tight, still looking up at me, lovingly, while the hateful words pour out of his mouth. I’m starting to feel sick as he continues on in earnest.
“I’d hoped to get your father in on the act too, but that wasn’t possible…”
He found my father? This is no joke. This is… I should stop him, but my mouth is so dry that I can’t even part my lips.
“…As it turns out, the fucking
coward killed himself right after seeing you graduate from high school! I know this because I saw his suicide note in the police files and he describes it in great detail. How much you look like your mother, how he didn’t deserve a daughter like you, how…”
“Stop it!”
When I finally find my voice, these two words come out with a ferocity that I didn’t even know I was capable of. Jeremy stops talking, but he doesn’t stop smiling.
“What are you saying?” I ask, not even realizing that there are mascara-stained tears streaming down my face. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, Jules, don’t you know? I’m doing what I’ve been doing since the night I ran into you at the diner, ‘accidentally’ on purpose! I’m fucking with you, you stupid cow!”
He’s laughing now. Laughing at my face, which is now twisted into a pallid mask of horror and incredulity. He points at me.
“Oh, oh, God!” he howls, laughing so hard that he can barely breathe. “You should see your expression! If you only knew how many times I’ve wanted to tell you how plain and boring you are. And how stupid! So stupid! You didn’t even realize what a fool you’ve made of yourself all these weeks. Everyone has been laughing at you behind your back. Apparently, you’re the only one who’s deluded enough to think I could ever love someone as dim and dull as you are.”
I cannot tear my eyes away from Jeremy as he gets to his feet, still holding my hand. He manages to catch his breath and stop laughing, leaving just that hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth up.
“Julia! We need you now,” comes the stage manager’s voice from outside of the closed door.
“She’ll be there in just a second,” Jeremy calls out for me. Then, he leans down, so that his lips are right next to my ear, as if he is going to tell me the deepest of all his secrets. And he does.
“Now, when you go out there on stage, Jules, you think about me, and how I never loved you. I never even liked you. And you remember that the only reason you’re even standing on that stage is because everyone feels sorry for you. You’re pathetic, and you’re nothing but a stupid cunt,” he whispers. Then, he kisses my cheek sweetly, and walks out of the dressing room and into the hall, leaving me staring after him.