Chapter Ten
“All right, you win.”
Tiffany spat out her words as she flounced into the rehearsal room that Morris Church routinely used right after lunch. She had waited outside until his one-o’clock student had left, then hurried in while she had the chance.
“You can give me all the cello lessons you want. I’ll come every single day if you want. I’ll come twice a day. I’ll come three times a day.”
“Goodness, such dedication is impressive. However, I don’t think that all those hours of lessons will be necessary.’’ As Mr. Church looked up from the newspaper he had picked up as soon as his previous student had left, his expression did not show even the tiniest trace of surprise over Tiffany’s unscheduled appearance. “And you’re in luck. My two-o’clock student just canceled, so I’m free for this hour. Now I take it you brought along the cello part for the Beethoven overture?”
“Of course I did,” Tiffany said, sniffing. “After you humiliated me this morning, right in front of the whole orchestra, no less.... Well, anyway, here it is.” She propped the music to Beethoven’s Leonore Overture No. 1 on the music stand, sat down, positioned her cello, and glared at Mr. Church.
“Okay, I’m ready. So teach me how to play this.”
Morris Church sighed. He put down his newspaper and, walking very slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, strolled over to where she was sitting.
“My dear Miss Forrester, I’m afraid you have a lot to learn.”
“I know that,” she replied irritably. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So start teaching.’’
“What I meant was, you have a lot to learn about the process of becoming a musician. One doesn’t just learn to play six or seven measures, to make music in one isolated instance. In order to make music, you must first become a musician.”
“And how do you propose that I do that?”
“You go back to the beginning, that’s how. You start playing scales and exercises and simple etudes....”
“What? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“And,’’ the cellist went on, ignoring her apparent dismay, “you practice. Every day, for as long as you possibly can. That, my dear, is what it takes to make someone into a musician. That, plus a natural talent, of course.”
“I doubt that I have very much of that.’’
“In that case, a heavy dose of passion might help make up for it.”
“Passion?’’ Tiffany cast him an odd look. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Passion. A love of life, an appreciation of things like beauty and truth ... perhaps even an understanding of oneself.”
Tiffany shook her head. Already she was feeling discouraged. “You make it sound like playing the cello is almost spiritual, for heaven’s sake.”
“Playing the cello is spiritual,” Mr. Church said earnestly. “That’s exactly the word for it. Playing music is a spiritual experience. And so in order to accomplish what you now tell me you are ready to try to accomplish, you and I are faced with the task of delving down deep into your very soul, Miss Forrester, and discovering what you are all about. That is what will turn you into a musician. Now, are you ready to begin?”
Tiffany glanced up at Mr. Church, expecting to see anger in his eyes. Or maybe the cold stare of someone who was challenging an enemy. Or perhaps disapproval, as if he were mocking her. Instead, she saw kindness there, sprinkled with concern and, if she was reading him correctly, even a little bit of hope.
“Yes, Mr. Church,” she said in a soft voice. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * * *
Tiffany had finally reached a point at which she was able to accept being at Wildwood for the rest of the summer. In fact, she had even decided, however begrudgingly, that perhaps putting some effort into making the best of the situation wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all.
And then something totally unexpected happened, something that entirely changed her perspective.
It all began one morning in the middle of the third week. As Thomas Albright stepped up onto the podium to make a few announcements, the way he always did before getting the rehearsal under way, there was an odd glint in his eye. Tiffany perked up immediately. She thought she had detected an undercurrent of excitement that morning as the students had gathered together on the stage of the auditorium. It was as if some of the other kids had gotten wind that something out of the ordinary was going to happen. But she, as usual, had been completely in the dark.
“Ladies and gentlemen, as many of you already know, part of the Wildwood Summer Program involves working with the American Philharmonic Orchestra’s composer-in-residence. This year, the composer that we selected was someone of international fame, someone whose music has long been recognized as ... uh, totally original.”
He paused for dramatic effect, then said, “Ladies and gentlemen, this morning I have the great pleasure of introducing Jason Diamond.”
As Tiffany glanced up from the cello music for a piece called “Symphony for Heart and Soul” which had been placed on her music stand, apparently one of the “original’’ compositions of this Jason Diamond, she expected to see a dumpy old man in a suit and tie standing next to Thomas Albright. Instead, standing in front of her was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life.
Jason Diamond was tall and thin, but well built with exceptionally broad shoulders. He was probably in his mid-twenties, Tiffany estimated, studying him carefully. He was dressed in a pair of tattered jeans and a Paul Simon T-shirt. The lapels of his denim jacket were covered with buttons sporting political statements. His dark brown hair was long and bushy, surrounding his handsome, craggy face like a halo. In his hazel eyes there was a kind of wildness, a brightness that gave the impression he was seeing things that other people couldn’t see.
As for his manner, the message he gave off was one of total confidence in himself. From the way he stood, the arrogant tilt of his head, the very vibrations he gave off, it was clear that this young man was someone special—and that he knew it as well as anybody else.
Tiffany, meanwhile, was not at all prepared for the strong reaction she was having. Her whole body was tingling, as if for the very first time in her life, she were really, truly alive. And one thing was for certain: whatever still remained of the bad mood that had surrounded her ever since she had first set foot on the Clayton College campus was totally gone.
“As I’m sure most of you already know,” Thomas Albright continued, “Jason Diamond is one of the world’s finest composers of experimental music. Although he is only twenty-seven years old, he has already won countless awards and received numerous grants. He has even been decorated by the Queen of England for his modern composition that was performed at her grandson’s birthday party. He is recognized all over the world as a musical genius.”
Tiffany was hanging on to every word. What the conductor said next, however, made her heart pound so loudly that she was certain everyone else in the cello section could hear it, if not everyone in the entire auditorium.
“Jason will be living in your dormitory during the rest of your stay here. Part of his function at Wildwood is to get to know you, to teach you, and at the same time to learn from you. You’ll have a chance to play his music, some of which has never been played before. We are all extremely pleased to have him here as part of our summer program. Now I’ll turn him over to you. Jason, would you like to say a few words?”
“Hey, everybody,” said Jason Diamond.
He was so animated, so energetic, that he could scarcely stand still as he spoke. He seemed to be too full of life to contain himself long enough for something as ordinary as making a speech.
“I’m not much for making speeches—after all, I usually say what I want to say with my music—but I wanted the chance to say in. I’m really looking forward to getting to know all of you this summer. I know we’re going to be having some wild times—uh, musically, I mean. So feel free to stop by Roo
m 122 any time of the day or night. See you around!”
Tiffany noticed that some of the student musicians were exchanging superior glances, looks that said they weren’t quite sure they approved of this “genius” with the shoulder-length hair and the political buttons. But she felt as if she had been run over by a steamroller. It was true that she had never thought of herself as much of a romantic. But all of a sudden she had a very strong sense of an expression she had always found just plain corny. And that expression was “love at first sight.”
* * * *
Tiffany’s heart was pounding as she stood in the doorway of the Clayton College cafeteria. She was out of the view of the rest of the Wildwood students, who, at the moment, were more interested in digging into a lunch of soup and grilled cheese sandwiches than in playing spy. Cautiously she leaned forward, an inch at a time, until she could see inside. Once she did, her heart did flip-flops.
There he was. Just as she had expected, Jason Diamond was sitting at one of the cafeteria’s long tables, not too far from where she was standing. And just as she had feared, there was a crowd of at least half a dozen Wildwood students sitting with him, hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth.
“Darn!” she muttered, stepping back into the corridor, needing some time to plan her next move. “I was hoping I’d get him alone!”
But that, she knew, was impossible. And the truth was that it would have actually been undesirable. After all, part of what attracted her so strongly to Jason Diamond was the fact that he was a celebrity. Someone who had distinguished himself, someone whom other people admired. Especially someone whom the other students at Wildwood admired.
Tiffany Forrester had never been one to become easily discouraged, however. She reminded herself with a toss of her head that she had always aimed high.... And she had always gotten precisely what she wanted.
As far as she was concerned, Jason Diamond wasn’t about to become an exception to that rule.
She was more determined than ever as she entered the cafeteria, her strategy finally worked out. She walked with long, confident steps, her head held high, her posture perfect. She went right over to the table at which Jason and his circle of admirers were seated. Then she pulled out the only free chair, way over at the far end, and sat down.
It didn’t take long for the group to notice that there was a newcomer in their midst.
“Look who’s here,” Todd said flatly. “If it isn’t Tiffany Forrester, Wildwood’s most accomplished cellist.”
A few of the kids laughed. Tiffany simply ignored them. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Jason.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Miss Forrester?” Todd went on with mock politeness. “I didn’t think you would ever lower your high standards enough to sit with us common folk.’’
“It’s Jason that I wanted to have lunch with,’’ she replied. She was wearing a tiny, knowing smile, and her chin was stuck high in the air. “After all, I’m someone who’s been around enough to recognize a true genius when I see him.”
Some of the kids were making faces and whispering, but Tiffany didn’t care. It was Jason that she had set her sights on, and no one else mattered. Besides, she was already getting the reaction from him that she had been hoping for.
“Well, well, well,” he said, studying her from across the table. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Now who is it we have here?”
“Oh, it’s just Tiffany.’’ Joan, sitting beside him, rolled her eyes upward. “Tiffany Forrester. She plays the cello. Well, sort of.”
But the insult went unnoticed. Jason was too busy smiling at Tiffany. The way his eyes lit up told her that he was someone who could appreciate how pretty she was, how poised, how far beyond all the others she was in her maturity and her taste. At least, that was the way she chose to interpret his sudden interest.
“Jason,” she said, twirling one long strand of her blond hair around her finger as she spoke, “I just wanted to tell you how much I adore your music. And, well, I’d really love the opportunity to play some of it with you.”
“Well, sure,” he replied. “I hope all the kids here will get a chance to play some of my new stuff. That’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“I know that. And I just wanted you to know that you can certainly count on me,” Tiffany said with a small nod of her head.
“Hey, Tiff, if you want some lunch you’d better hurry,” Joan said loudly. “It’s almost one o’clock, and they’re going to be closing down the cafeteria line in a few minutes.”
It was a rude and unwelcome interruption to the odd conversation she and Jason were having—in the midst of eight other people, no less—and at first Tiffany was annoyed. But then she realized that Joan was really giving her an opening for a dramatic departure. Gracefully she rose from the table and floated away. As she did. she was positive that she could feel Jason watching her.
“Wow, isn’t she something?” she heard somebody say, sounding disapproving. But she ignored the comment.
Joan’s “interruption” turned out to be an example of perfect timing. By the time Tiffany finished going through the cafeteria line with her tray, she glanced around the room and saw that most of the students had already left. The afternoon bus, one that carried the students over to the Wildwood Performing Arts Center where they would be watching the American Philharmonic Orchestra’s rehearsal, was due to leave in just a few minutes. More than half the tables were empty.
That included Jason’s table. He was sitting there alone, drinking a cup of coffee. And, at least as far as Tiffany was concerned, looking as if he was waiting for something—or someone.
She didn’t have to think twice about what she would do next. She sashayed over to his table, her tray in her hands. Without saying a word or waiting for an invitation, she plunked it on the table and sat down opposite him.
“Ah. So you’re back,” he said, smiling.
She nodded seriously. “I feel we have a lot to talk about.’’
“Like what?”
“Like you. Your music. What it all means. Where it’s going.” She leaned forward. “I’d really like to get to know you, Jason Diamond.”
“Well, gee, I plan to get to know all the kids here.”
“Yes, I know that.’’ Leaning forward, her blue eyes glowing, Tiffany said, “But I really believe that you and I could make beautiful music together.”
“Jason! There you are!”
Just then Thomas Albright came striding into the cafeteria, looking as if he was in a terrible hurry.
“Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but I’m ready to leave for the Performing Arts Center. If you still want to catch a ride with me, we’d better get going.’’
“Sure, man. Whatever you say.” Jason looked over at Tiffany and shrugged. “Duty calls,” he said. “Catch you later.”
And then he was gone, walking out of the cafeteria with the conductor. And leaving behind one very lovestruck girl.
Tiffany sat eating her lunch in slow motion, not even tasting it. She was too busy daydreaming about Jason. And so when somebody plopped down beside her, she was annoyed.
“Tiffany, Tiffany, Tiffany,” Mark Jackson was saying, shaking his head. “When are you ever going to learn?”
“Learn what?” she asked, glaring at him.
“That throwing yourself at a man is never a good idea.”
“Mark, if you don’t mind ...”
“Hey, listen. I’m telling you this for your own good.” He held up his hands in protest. “I’m telling you this as your friend.”
“My friends don’t tell me how to live my life,’’ she replied irritably.
“This friend does. At least, he does if he sees you making a mistake.”
Tiffany sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. “I see. So you think the way I’m approaching Jason Diamond is a mistake. Do you think that instead I should be one of those girls who sits by the tel
ephone, hoping some guy will call her? I’m sorry, Mark, but I’m just not the type. No, I’ve always been someone who believed in going after what I wanted.’’
“Tiff, it’s not your approach I’m talking about,” Mark said. “Although I must say, I was watching you in action and you did seem to be laying it on a bit thick. No, I’m talking about the entire essence of this Jason Diamond person.”
With a scowl, Tiffany went back to eating her lunch. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about the fact that Jason Diamond would not be good for you.”
“Don’t you think I’m in a better position than anyone else to make that decision—including you?”
“No. Not right now. I mean, I can see that you’ve already developed an incredible crush on this character, and you can’t see beyond your own infatuation.”
“Jason is not a ‘character’!” she snapped. “And I don’t have a ‘crush’ on him. I simply recognize that he and I are ... you know, on the same wavelength. There’s a real connection between us.”
“Oh, yeah? I think the only person Jason Diamond has ever felt a real connection with is himself. Besides,” Mark went on impatiently, “he’s too old for you. He’s too worldly, he’s too conceited, he’s too ... I don’t know. He’s ...”
“Too grown-up?” Tiffany asked coldly. “Too mature? Too much of a man—that is, as opposed to the little boys that all the other guys around here are?”
“I’ll make a point of not taking that personally,” Mark said. “Listen, Tiff, all I’m saying is that this Jason person could be trouble. At least, trouble for someone like you.”
“Look, Mark.” Tiffany was seething by now. “I thought that you and I had agreed that we could be friends, or at least something resembling friends. I really think that what I do is none of your business. If you can’t butt out, then our friendship isn’t going to last more than ten minutes. In fact,” she went on loftily, “I have a feeling it might already be over.”
Mark sighed. “Suit yourself, Tiffany. All I’m doing is trying to keep you from getting hurt. It seems to me that that’s what any good friend would do.”
Going Solo Page 12