by Alexa Kang
“We can take photos,” William said. “Let’s make your mother happy.”
“Ugh.” Tessa made a face. “I don’t want to make a big fuss.”
“You can’t deprive your mother of the chance to see you in a nurse’s uniform,” Sophia said. “She must be overjoyed you decided to take up her profession.”
“Okay. One photo, maybe. I’ll think about it, but I just know she will show it to all her friends at the hospital. It’ll be so embarrassing with everyone talking about me.”
Sophia smiled. Then, changing the subject, she turned to her son. “Anthony, how is Mary? Is she in Chicago this weekend? If she is, why don’t you invite her here for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Mary?” He almost knocked over his water glass. “I’m not seeing her anymore.” He steadied his glass and looked directly at Tessa.
He still blames me for that. Tessa twisted her lips and looked away.
“Oh,” Sophia said, a bit surprised. “That’s too bad. She’s a nice girl.”
Chapter 41
Fall break was over all too quickly. Anthony wished he had more time. All weekend long, Tessa remained oblivious to him and everything he did. If he could be around her longer, maybe he could find some way to make her see him differently. But the weekend had ended and he had to return to school. When he said goodbye to her before leaving, she barely raised her head.
He drove along the road. His mind wandered from thoughts of her, to classes and school, and to the next swimming competition, when he realized he had forgotten to take his Economics textbook back to school with him. How annoying, he thought. He was already halfway to school. He had no choice but to turn the car around back to his house.
The house was quiet when he returned. His parents had gone out for their Sunday afternoon walk. He picked up his book from his room and was coming down the stairs when the piano music flowed out of the parlor. Chopin. “Fantaisie Impromptu.” As if under a spell, he sat down on the stairs to listen.
The music started off with the dramatic rush of fast notes, fiery and full of angst. It sounded like Tessa herself, brooding yet raging and wild. The next segment of softer and more delicate notes followed. That was like her too, when on occasion she showed her more sensitive side.
I want to treat you to a movie to thank you, but I can’t do that if you won’t leave the house. He smiled at the memory. She could be so sweet sometimes.
Then it dawned on him. It was all so obvious now. She wasn’t nearly as hard to understand as she appeared. Everything about her, her feelings and who she was, were all in her artistic talents. She expressed herself not by words but by her music and her paintings.
The Chopin piece ended with dramatic fury like its beginning. After a brief pause, she moved on to another piece. He recognized the wondrous, tender opening notes at once. Franz Liszt. “Liebestraum.”
He leaned on the stair rails and closed his eyes. The mesmerizing sound of the music drew him in. He got up and came to the entrance of the parlor. The rising dreamlike notes sailed across the air, each cadenza reached deeper and deeper into his soul.
Unaware that anyone was listening, Tessa played the piece with total abandon. “Liebestraum,” also known as “Dream of Love.” She had learned to play this when she was nine, but it took her quite some years before she was able to properly interpret it and make something distinctive out of it. In fact, her idea of how she wanted to convey this music had come to her only recently. During the hours when she made her painting of Nadine and Laurent, her perceptions and understanding of the music began to form. Once she discovered how she wanted to play it, she fell more in love with it than ever. It captured every fantasy she had about love.
She set her fingers on the keys, imagining the first cadenza as a serenade of two lovers during their first encounter. The soft, dreamlike beginning and the buildup of excitement symbolized their realization of falling in love. After the romantic beginning, a flurry of fast, dancing notes cascaded across the keyboard, creating what sounded like the flutters of a butterfly’s wings and dazzling stars swirling in the new lovers’ jubilant hearts.
The second cadenza repeated the same melodies. But this time, the romantic opening sounds portrayed the lovers’ embrace. The volume of the music grew, signifying their deepening kisses and caresses. The music intensified like lovers making heated, passionate love. Each string of melodies represented a movement of their bodies. The tempo surged with the escalating force of each beat until their passion ascended to a dramatic height, followed by a release of fast, tumbling notes which brought the lovers down from the pinnacle of rapture as they fell into a cloud of euphoric bliss. The third cadenza ended with delicate, loving tenderness like their gentle and radiant afterglow, and the lovers’ whispers of eternal love.
Was passionate love really like that? She hoped it was. It must be amazing.
When she finished, she emerged from her concentration. This was as well as she had ever played this piece. Satisfied, she looked up. The unexpected sight of Anthony standing at the parlor entrance watching her startled her.
“I thought you left!” Her face burned at the thought of him listening to the way she had played this song.
“I did, but I forgot my book so I had to come back and get it.” He threw his jacket down on the couch, held up his Economics textbook to show her, and walked over to her. “I was on my way out again and I heard you playing, so I stayed and listened.”
She bowed her head, embarrassed by his unexpected intrusion. She felt as though she had accidentally exposed her most private thoughts.
“That last piece you played, “Liebestraum.” I like it a lot. Would you play it again?” he asked.
Play this for him? Was he mad? Why would he want her to play the “Dream of Love” for him? She most certainly would not.
But something about the way he asked her, something in his voice and the way he was looking at her gave her second thoughts. Yearning. It was written all over his face. Could her music have had such an impact? Did she finally play it well enough to make the listeners feel the music to such an extent? She wanted to know.
She laid her hands on the keyboard. A bit hesitant at first, she began to play again the slow, soft beginning of the first cadenza. Curious, she glanced up to see his reaction. She had never seen him so close. He had beautiful eyes, deep blue like the ocean. She never noticed them before. His eyes looked so tender too. Was this the effect from listening to her music? He must really love this music, or she must be playing it even better than she thought.
Seeing how the first cadenza had achieved its intended effect, she let go of her hesitation and seized each note with her full heart and feelings. She let her emotions guide each key. The music moved and flowed until it rose and unleashed into a crescendo.
She looked at him again. He was watching her, transfixed. Could the music be all there was to it? Was he confusing the music with the person making it? He almost looked as if he was yearning for her. What a mad idea to think that. What a mad idea it was that he even asked her to play this for him. The “Dream of Love.”
He wasn’t the only one who was mad. She must have gone mad herself, because she liked the way he was looking at her. No one ever looked at her like this. A sweet, paralyzing sensation crept into her heart. Was this what it felt like to be wanted?
He looked so drawn in. Could he hear the love and passion in the melodies and rhythms? Did he understand all that she meant to express in the way she played? If he did, what would he think? Would it shock his sensibilities, or would he find it enthralling?
She continued to manipulate the keys. Every time she looked up at the sheet music, she could catch glimpses of his quickening breath from the subtle heaving of his chest. It was hard not to notice his toned physique. She was used to seeing his athletic form and never paid much attention to it. Only now, with him so near her, did she realize that he exuded strength. And she had to admit, it made him very attractive.
It wasn’t
only his strength. With the way he stood, so near her and so without inhibition, she could feel keenly his presence. What an inexplicably pleasant feeling it was, to be so close to someone who was so strong. Her heart softened.
When she finished, the room fell silent. For a moment, they stared at each other. She didn’t know if she expected him to applaud, or praise her, or do something else altogether. The longing on his face had deepened. She tightened her hands and fingers resting on the keyboard. Her chest stiffened and her breath felt constricted. The room needed more air. There was not enough air.
Abruptly, he backed away. “Thanks. I’ll see you next time.” That was all he said. In no time, he was gone, taking with him the intimate feeling they had just shared.
In shock, she watched him leave. Was that all? Thanks? I’ll see you next time? He didn’t even tell her whether he liked how she played or not. Was he really as mesmerized as she thought while she played, or did she imagine everything? She felt so stupid.
Tone deaf. He was definitely tone deaf. She would never ever play this or anything else for him again.
Hurrying away from the parlor, Anthony could only breathe again after he left the house. The way Tessa stared back at him after she finished playing almost convinced him she understood how he felt. But he wasn’t entirely sure. With a great effort, he tore himself away. He had to leave. Immediately. Or else he might do something he would regret, like taking her into his arms and kissing her, and then frightening the hell out of her.
“Thanks. I’ll see you next time.” He blurted out the words while all he could think of was to get away. He forgot to even give her the courtesy of a compliment on how she played. But what could he have said? He couldn’t tell her how the emotional tones roused in him a deep, rumbling passion, or that the fast frenzied beats brought him to an elated state of excitement.
He couldn’t possibly tell her how the flush on her cheeks as she played sent his heart racing.
But he knew now what he could do. If she could only express herself through her music, then he must find a way to do the same. He had a vague idea of how he might do it. In any case, he had to try.
# # #
All Anthony wanted to find was a poster featuring “Liebestraum.” Why was that so hard? He had gone to nearly every music shop and poster store he knew near school and downtown but had no luck at all. Of the few he did find, he didn’t like any of them. They all showed enlarged photos of the performing artist. He wanted a poster that featured the music, not the performer. He walked out of one store after another. He didn’t want to give up, but he was losing hope.
As a last-ditch attempt, he went to the little souvenir shop around the corner from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Hall. Browsing through the posters offered for sale, he found it at last. A Celebration of Franz Liszt. Below it, the song title “Liebestraum, Dream of Love” printed in bold as the highlight performance along with a list of other musical selections in much smaller print. The concert had taken place three years ago in the spring of 1939. An illustration of a swirling piano keyboard served as the poster’s background. It was perfect.
Excited, he bought the poster and returned to campus. He would have to get it framed. It should be ready in time for when he went home for his father’s birthday during Halloween weekend.
Lost in his thoughts and walking in haste, he ran into another student who was herself in a hurry. One of the folders she carried dropped to the ground.
“Excuse me,” he apologized and picked up the fallen folder and papers.
“I’m sorry. I was in a rush,” the other student also apologized. He recognized her voice.
“Gretchen!”
“Anthony! My goodness. It’s been a long time.”
“Yes it has.” He hadn’t seen her since Brandon left. “How are you?”
“I’m good. And yourself?”
“Good. You going somewhere in a hurry?”
“To a CDA meeting.”
He nodded and handed the papers and folder back to her. As he did, he noticed he had picked up a photo of a group of people crammed inside cars of an old train. The passengers’ lost, apprehensive eyes and gaunt faces stared out at him. “What is this?” he asked.
“I’m not really sure.” She took back the folder, the papers, and the photo. “There have been some rumors. We think they are Jewish people being rounded up by the German Nazis.”
“Rounded up for what? Are they criminals? Prisoners?”
“We don’t know. We don’t think so. Look.” She pointed to a face staring out of a small train window. “This looks like a child. If they were prisoners, then there shouldn’t be any children with them.”
The image was disturbing. He didn’t know what to make of it.
“I’ve seen more photos like this one. My father’s working with the underground resistance movement in Poland. These photos are some of what he’s been able to obtain, but we have no concrete information about what’s happening. There are rumors the Nazis are rounding up Jewish people and sending them to labor camps. They’re just rumors. I’m heading to a CDA meeting now to try to find out what’s going on.” She put the photo back into the folder. “It’s good to see you again.” She started to leave.
“Gretchen, wait,” he called out to her. “Have you heard from Brandon?”
She turned back. “Yes. He’s a naval lieutenant now. He can’t tell anyone where he’s stationed but from some of the things he wrote about, I think he’s stationed somewhere in the East. If he is, I’m very worried. The battles on that front are vicious.”
He couldn’t say anything sympathetic without sounding hypocritical. Not when he had remained in the safety of home while Brandon had selflessly gone off and put himself at such great risk.
Thankfully, she didn’t hold this against him. “I’ll see you around.” She smiled and took off.
With a heavier mind, Anthony walked on. The war. The atrocities that it brought. All of it was never far from him. Every time something good happened, the war would come back to the forefront and remind him there were things that mattered more than himself.
What happened to his resolve to enlist after Pearl Harbor?
Everywhere he went, more and more men had taken up the uniform. If this continued, pretty soon, he would have to explain why he was not in one.
Till the end of this year, he told himself. He would give himself until the end of this year, unless fate called upon him sooner and he got drafted. There was one more thing he wanted to do. He tightened his grip on the poster tube and walked on down the path.
Chapter 42
On the weekend of his father’s birthday, Anthony returned home full of anticipation, only to have his hopes crushed. Tessa would be gone the entire time. The Veterans Hospital was short-staffed and she had to work through the weekend until Monday. By then, he would be gone.
How disappointing.
When he arrived home, his mother watched him make several trips in and out of the house, carrying with him his duffle bag of books and clothes first, then a large framed poster all wrapped up.
“Is that a birthday present for your father?” she asked.
“No.” He carried the poster upstairs. “I’ve got his presents in my bag.” He tilted his head toward his duffle bag by the front door. “This poster’s for Tessa.”
“For Tessa?”
“Yes,” he said and went up to the second floor. She watched him from the bottom of the staircase, puzzled.
Saturday passed, completely uneventful with no Tessa and no children coming by to collect candy. The sugar ration had put a stop to the Halloween tradition. Nonetheless, his mother and their housemaid had still managed to bake his father a birthday cake. They had been saving up sugar for the last three months to make sure they had enough. On Sunday afternoon, Uncle Leon and his family came to join them for the birthday lunch.
“Katherine,” Sophia asked, “how is the preparation for the debutante ball coming along? It’s in two weeks, isn’t
it? Are you excited?”
“I rather am,” Katherine said. “Charlie Cranston will be my escort. He’s a junior at Stonefield Academy.”
“Cranston?” William asked. “Is his father on the board of the Merc?”
“Um-hmm. All my friends are jealous. Not only because of Charlie, but because some of them still don’t have anyone to take them. They’re panicking. A few of them are thinking of not going because their boyfriends have been commissioned.” She looked across the table. “Anthony, I have friends who still need an escort. Would you like to go with one of them?”
“No!” He couldn’t answer fast enough. “I can’t go. I have too much homework. Sorry.”
Looking peeved, Katherine said no more on the matter. Sophia glanced at her son, intrigued.
When they finished their food, everyone brought out their gifts. William delighted in all the presents he received, from the cashmere scarf and watch his wife bought for him, to the bottle of vintage bourbon from the Caldwells. Leon even made a generous donation to the Chicago Hospital in his name.
When he got to the presents Anthony got for him, his eyes widened. “Binoculars!” he said to his son.
Thrilled that his father liked the gift, Anthony said, “I thought you could use them for bird watching. It’s the latest model. The glass is coated with magnesium so more light can come through the lenses.”
“Yes.” William held it up to his eyes. “They’d definitely come in handy when we go camping again in the summer.”
Anthony looked down. He hadn’t thought of that when he bought the binoculars. He couldn’t say to his father that there would be no camping next summer. By then, he would in all likelihood be gone.
“You’re going camping?” asked Alexander who was sitting next to him. “Can I go too?” He turned to Anthony. “I’ve asked Father to take me so many times but he said he didn’t want to sleep outside.”