Chapter Five
Eroica should have slept well that night, but she didn’t. All night long she had dreams of some nondescript person, with a box of tools, taking apart her piano and saying, “I’m doing this for you, Eroica.”
She was not going to be bothered by it, though. This was the night of the combined student and faculty orchestra performance, to welcome back all of the students. Eroica was not going to miss it, even if she was tired. Attending orchestra performances had become a ritual for her. She would get to the concert hall and find her seat as soon as she could. Being one of the first people there was very important. She would watch as people would file in, filling up the hall. The musicians would meander onto the stage, warm up, and make an exciting stir, and she would wait for her cellist to appear on the stage. She hadn’t seen him since that last day of music camp, but she knew that she would see him again.
So she would listen to the concert and imagine herself with him. If the music was fast and exciting, then they would be watching fireworks together on Independence Day. If the orchestra was playing something slow and dramatic, then they would be stranded in the rain, his coat around her shoulders. If the music was lively and happy, then they would be riding horses together in the country. She had gone to so many concerts, yet her imagination had never failed her.
When the performances ended, Eroica would always be the last one to leave the concert hall. This, too, was part of the performance for Eroica. She would watch as people gathered up their coats, purses, and concert programs. The musicians would gather up their music and would wander back off the stage, until the hall was empty of everyone except the stage manager and his crew. Only then was the performance over for Eroica, and only then would she go home. Consequently, she made it a point to go to concerts alone.
Eroica had a hard time keeping up with her classes that day. She was as anxious about the concert as she was about the first Sunday in her new ward. Someday she would meet up with this cellist that she was supposed to marry. He had to be alive on this earth somewhere.
Eroica made it through her classes and finally sent her last piano student home. Now she could think about the evening. She had to eat dinner so that her stomach wouldn’t make noises during the concert, but she was too full of anticipation to cook anything. So she pulled a box of crackers out of the cupboard and took them into the bedroom.
Eroica always dressed up for concerts and recitals. Her mother had instilled in her a feeling that going into a performance hall was a very formal occasion. She opened her closet and stared into it. What does a girl wear when she hopes to run into her future husband? She pulled out an ivory colored dress that was covered with creamy lace. Eroica liked to wear that dress for the simple reason that it gave her an opportunity to wear her pearl necklace. Her parents had given it to her when she graduated from high school.
She thought of her mother, who was calm and steady. Eroica had a tendency to be more like her father, whose motto in life seemed to be, “Act first, think later.” When she was dressed, she gathered up a brush and a few hair accessories, and went next door.
“Anna,” she called through the opened window, “Will you do my hair for me?”
AnnaMaria came out of the kitchen to let Eroica in. “I haven’t done your hair since before you went to Germany. I’m all out of practice, so it may take a while. What do you want done with it?”
“I was just thinking of putting it up somehow. It always seems to be hanging down all over. It would be nice to have it out of the way for a change.”
“You look beautiful,” AnnaMaria said as she began to brush through Eroica’s hair. “Where are you off to tonight?”
“Just a symphony performance.”
“Are you going with anyone? Don’t people usually go on dates to these kinds of things?”
“I suppose they do. But no, I’m not going with anyone.”
“I guess I’m going to have to set you up with someone after all. Although John’s friends probably won’t think of the symphony as an exciting date. You’ve got so much hair,” AnnaMaria quickly changed the subject before Eroica could protest. “I had forgotten what it was like to deal with all of this. It’s a good thing our mother wasn’t a ballerina. She would have had us taking dance classes, and what a time she would have had putting your hair in a bun for every performance.”
“Believe me, my career as a ballerina would have ended long before my hair would have become an issue. I’m not that coordinated. Having parents that sing so well puts me in an awkward enough position. Haven’t you ever had people ask you to sing in church?”
AnnaMaria laughed. “Just once, when we were still in Boston. I told them no in very clear terms. I played a piano solo instead.”
“When I was in Germany, people always expected me to sing. I can hit the right notes, but the sound that comes out isn’t exactly pretty. I was not blessed with a beautiful singing voice.”
“Neither was I. Well, your hair is done, and it actually looks nice. I know that you are going to the concert alone, but you may not wind up being alone all evening. You’ll have to tell me all about it tomorrow.”
“There won’t be anything to tell,” Eroica replied as she left to make her way to the performance hall.
In the concert hall, Eroica was seated towards the front and a little to the right of the conductor’s podium. This was not her favorite spot. She liked to be in the balcony, front row, a little to the left side. That way, when she attended a piano performance, she could watch the pianist’s hands fly all over the keyboard.
AnnaMaria was right. Most people were there as couples. She watched as the orchestra members came onto the stage. They were going to play Dvorak’s New World Symphony, as a tribute to the students who came from so many different states and countries. The New World Symphony was one of Eroica’s favorite symphonies. She was excited to hear it in a concert hall.
Her anticipation of the evening’s events was quickly checked, however. Just then, her theory teacher walked onto the stage, carrying a cello. He walked all the way across the stage, sat down in the cello section, and started tuning. Eroica did not want Mark Wallace intruding on her thoughts. She took it as a personal insult that he would dare to play the cello.
All the members of the orchestra were on stage now, and not one of the cellists was the one that Eroica was looking for. She had been so sure that he would be here. Now she just wanted to go home. All the thoughts that she had never let surface came rushing at her. He was probably already married. Or maybe he fell away from the Church. Maybe he had been in an accident and had been killed. Eroica felt that it was time to stop searching. It was time to go on with her life. She was not going to be able to find him.
Deep in thought, Eroica listened as the oboe played a solo passage. Even now, with sorrow in her heart, she smiled at her childhood memories of the oboe representing Sonya the Duck in Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. But Eroica was no longer a child. She knew now that marriage would probably never come her way. And if Heavenly Father gave her that challenge, then she would face it. But what was she to do with herself? This was a new question for Eroica. She thought that her life was planned out, but she was obviously wrong.
Before she knew it, the concert was over. Everyone clapped, and the conductor bowed, and Eroica realized that she had missed most of the performance. She had become so caught up in her own thoughts that she was no longer aware of her surroundings. The concert hall was quickly becoming empty of people. True to Eroica’s ritual, she just sat there. But she no longer dreamed and made plans. All of that had shattered in her mind, and she was left with an empty feeling. She flopped her hands on the back of the chair in front of her, rested her chin on them, and tried to stare into the future.
“Hey,” a voice called from the stage, “The concert is over.”
Eroica looked around to see who this voice was talking to. She was th
e only one left, so he must be talking to her. She was too surprised to say anything. This had never happened to her before. She had always fancied that the performers on the stage lived in their own world, and the audience was given an opportunity to peek into it. She could watch as much as she wanted because nobody knew she was there. Until now. With one simple comment, this person had ruined the illusion for her. And it wasn’t going to end there, either. He was coming down the stage steps to talk to her.
Eroica had done her best to avoid Mark Wallace. She never asked questions in class, even though this was a hard subject for her. She never went in for help during his office hours, even though she was getting farther and farther behind. She knew that she had to do better in her theory class if she planned on graduating in May. Yet she didn’t want to talk to her teacher. And now he was standing right in front of her.
“Hello, Eroica Hamilton.”
Eroica winced at the memory of the first time he had said her name.
“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked, looking around.
“No, I was just thinking. Concert halls always feel so quiet after a performance. I like that feeling.” Eroica was surprised at herself for saying so much.
“Well, Eroica, you and I didn’t get off to a very good start the first day of classes, did we?”
Eroica could feel the hurt pride welling up fresh within herself.
“Whose fault was that?” she demanded.
“You’re right. It was mine, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pick on you like that. You just have a very unusual name. It caught me by surprise. Can we be friends now?”
Eroica considered this question carefully. How long was she going to hold a grudge for something so silly? She was wrong to be so unforgiving.
“Oh, all right. We can be friends.”
Mark laughed at her frankness. “I like you, Eroica. But before we go on with this friendship, I have to clear up one thing.”
He looked at Eroica so strangely that she could feel the color rising to her face. She was self-conscious already, and she didn’t even know why.
“Are you married?” Mark finally blurted out.
Now Eroica was embarrassed. She stood up quickly. “Do you ask this question to all the girls? You saw me in the young adult ward. You stared at me until I felt as if my hair would start on fire.”
Eroica turned towards the first exit sign she saw, but Mark caught her gently by the arm.
“Eroica, wait,” he said carefully. “No, I didn’t see you in the young adult ward. I saw you standing in the foyer of a church building where several wards meet. Some of which are made up of young families. And you were holding a baby who clung to you with all his might. I didn’t know what to think. And I still don’t. And seeing you tonight, looking so beautiful, and here alone. Well, I thought you must have a husband at home with your baby while you attended the concert. Why else would you be here without a date? Yet, you didn’t leave when the concert was over. You puzzle me, Eroica, so tonight I decided that I would try to figure you out. And I must say, I’m doing a terrible job of it.”
Eroica flopped back down in her chair. What an emotional night this was turning out to be. Mark sat down next to her and waited for he didn’t know what.
“No, I am not married,” Eroica stated. She felt as if she were confessing. “The little boy is my nephew, Joshua. He is just used to me and not used to nursery. I see him quite often because I live next door to my sister and her family. And I come to concerts by myself because I choose to. I always go to concerts by myself. It is not a social event for me.”
If Eroica weren’t feeling so defensive, she would have noticed the sigh that he quietly let go. And if she weren’t looking down in confusion, she would have noticed the smile that crossed his face.
“Hey, Mark, come get your junk out of the way so we can finish stacking chairs,” the stage manager hollered. Mark’s junk happened to be his cello, bow, and music.
“All right, Sean. I’m on my way.” He turned back to Eroica. “I’ve been in this building all day. I went straight from teaching cello lessons to getting here barely in time for the concert. And I’m hungry. And you are, too. Your stomach has been growling. Come with me, and we’ll go get a burger together.”
“I guess if we are going to be friends, then I am going to have to get used to embarrassment. A gentleman wouldn’t have noticed my stomach making noises.”
“Nonsense,” cried Mark. “A gentleman would do just what I am doing. He would take your hand, and he would go buy a burger, fries, and a shake for you.”
So saying, Mark took Eroica’s hand and they went onto the stage together so that he could put away his “junk.”
Heartstrings Page 5