“I’m so sorry, you must have mistaken me for someone else. My friends and I were just enjoying a nice lunch before we begin the afternoon.”
“Do you even know who I am?” She slammed her palm flat on the table, eliciting a startled jump from everyone but me. Confident in my role as a favorite to the head of the school, I raised my eyebrow ever so slightly, indicating how little I cared. The girl huffed.
“I am the head soprano of this school. I lead every show. I’m headed straight to the theater after this to have the ear of every major politician in the country as one of the best performers in the world. You are clearly misguided, so I will give you one last chance to leave this garbage behind and join your betters,” she said, self-adoration written across her face. Wryly, I thought of my father’s perception of the world of theater, and began to see his point. I sat in polite silence, giving her my answer without words.
“You know the way the world is turning, new girl. Your alliances will determine just where you fall in history…remember that,” she said, turning to make a dramatic exit.
“You remember it, too,” I retorted. “Whoever you are.”
She whirled, snarling her response in a most unattractive way.
“My name is Jean. You should remember it, since you’ll live in the shadow of it all your life.”
“I suppose we’ll just have to see about that,” I replied, cool as a cucumber. I couldn’t believe how easy it was to stay calm in the eyes of such violent hatred. What was worse was that I immediately wanted to do her harm, too. This girl, who was nothing worse than a bully as far as I knew, made me want to strangle her until I watched the breath leave her body…and it scared me more than anything ever had.
“I can’t believe you just stood up to Jean!” Giselle breathed. Every pair of eyes at the table gazed upon me in adoration, and I blushed.
“She’s just a bully. My father taught me how to stand up to bullies a long time ago—they fuel off of your reaction. If you treat them as if they don’t matter, eventually they get bored with you and move on to someone who will give them what they want.”
Janika shook her head.
“Not Jean. She’s pure evil, make no mistake. I heard that she’s made someone run out crying after every show she’s ever been in,” she said conspiratorially. Knowing that we were all about to be in the same room together, I squared my shoulders and put on a brave face for the table. Somehow, in a matter of hours, I had become the leader of the downtrodden, and it was a role I hoisted heavily onto my shoulders.
“A bully is only as strong as those around him allow,” I quoted my father, and changed the conversation back to music until it was time to head to the auditorium. I gasped as we entered the cool air of the main theater. The walls were carpeted in a muted red, showcasing the brilliant gold statues that encased a blank stage and its wood-paneled floor. Rows and rows of empty seats stood waiting for the show to go on, their plush cushions also ruby red. A balcony hovered above the first floor seating, providing a heightened view for spectators who wished to observe our shows.
Quite a few pupils were already on stage, waiting for instruction to begin. I bid farewell to Giselle and Janika, who were both involved in the show—Janika on the piano, Giselle in the chorus. I picked a seat near the back and sank in, my stomach erupting in butterflies. It always did that when I sat in a theater…the anticipation of a darkened room, experiencing insight into the human condition in the most perfect form of song. I tried to ignore the dirty looks my friends received from a few of the others as they neared the stage, though most of them were too distracted by their conversations to care.
“What an outstanding show,” a young man plopped into the seat next to me. I jumped in surprise.
“There is no show,” I said, crossing my arms, annoyed at being caught off guard. He smiled.
“Sure there is! I can see it all now,” he held up his hands, stringing them along parts of the stage as he launched into a dramatic description.
“That’s where the fatal but lovely death scene will occur, under a tree, on a bed of flowers,” he said dreamily, and an unladylike snort escaped my nostrils, my hand flying to my face in embarrassment. Something about him made me want to laugh, and I couldn’t help but lean a little closer. His body radiated heat, the scent of freshly washed cotton wafting over and enveloping me.
“You seem far too excited about that scene, if you ask me,” I said, and was rewarded with a chuckle.
“Well, maybe I am. Death is such a strange thing, isn’t it? One minute you’re there, and the next, poof!” He snapped his fingers, and I shivered as a chill ran down my spine. Death was simply not my favorite topic.
“But where are my manners? May I introduce myself as Sebastian, man of the piano?”
“You may, though I hardly believe that to be your true name, Sebastian, man of the piano.”
“I know, but it has quite the ring to it, doesn’t it? I think it shall be my known name throughout the world, once my renown kicks in and people begin worshipping me,” he said, his smirk lightening his words. I held out my hand.
“My name is J,” I said, wishing I had the charisma to think of something clever in return to this witty creature. His warm fingers wrapped around mine, and my hand tingled as he pressed his lips gently against it.
“What a pleasure to meet you, J. Naturally I have heard a lot about you…”
I raised my eyebrow at him before Herr Eisler took the stage and cleared his throat meaningfully. Sebastian and I snuck a sideways, mischievous glance, and I felt the thrill of an instant crush. He winked, and my heart flipped over itself.
“I would like to see how far along you’ve come with the second act, if you please,” Herr Eisler said authoritatively. Everyone on the stage began to scramble as the director made his way back down to the house and took a seat in the middle of the theater. I watched in awe as Jean stole the show, her voice a magnificent tapestry against a dull gray background. She knew it, too. With her shoulders set back with pride, her face a perfect interpretation of the character, she was well aware of the power she had been given by God. It was awe inspiring and maddening all at once.
Between directions from Herr Eisler, I snuck glances at Sebastian. Although he bore a small resemblance to Janika, he was lighter in coloring. His coal black hair contrasted sharply, stunningly, with his crystal blue eyes. He was tall and lanky, and he kept shifting his legs uncomfortably in the small seating space. I did my best to sit up properly and maintain a delicate expression, hoping that maybe he would notice how refined I was.
“Very good, Jean, very good,” Herr Eisler cooed. Then he turned back in his seat and looked right at me. His usual warm expression settled into place, and I quirked my head in confusion, asking a silent question. His lips parted into a smile that revealed yellowed, tobacco- stained teeth, and he rose suddenly.
“I would now like to see J perform the same song, if she is so willing.”
Silence hit the theater like a tidal wave. My eyes widened in shock, and I briefly caught a glance at the outrage pouring from Jean, who crossed her arms and held her position center stage. Herr Eisler laughed, and, turning back to me, waved his hand.
“Up, up, dear girl! You know the song…I’ve been working on it with you all morning!”
My heart sank into my stomach. On purpose, I had never performed to a large group. There was a time when my father would have torn out my hair for such an offense. I cast one last look at Sebastian, who shrugged and gave me an encouraging wink. I realized then that I liked his winks. I liked them a lot.
Rising, I made my way to center stage, passing by Jean without looking her way. Part of me believed that she deserved to be put in her place, and I intended to show her just what that meant. Herr Eisler signaled for Janika to begin the piece, and before I knew it I was pouring my heart out to complete strangers. When I finished, there was a pregnant pause before the stage erupted in wild cheers. I smiled shyly, looking to my friends, who al
l shot back approving glances as they fiercely clapped their hands. Looking out at the theater, I saw Sebastian looking dumbstruck, and I allowed myself the small victory that came with impressing the person you like.
“Bravo, my dear, bravo! Now, Jean, you see how it should truly be done! Look out for our new pupil here…I believe the next show may fall out of your hands,” he laughed. I dared a glance at Jean, and felt the fires of hell smoldering from her eyes. I had never seen such hatred in all my life, and for the first time, I felt a twinge of fear. Suddenly I needed to be out of that theater and in the safety of my room.
Sweeping my dress down the stairs, I began to make my exit. I jumped when Herr Eisler caught my arm before I was able to leave the theater. I didn’t even see him coming.
“One more word, before you depart,” he said, his voice low. I gazed at him in confusion, stepping forward slightly to gently hint that I really wanted to leave.
“Yes, Herr Eisler?” I asked. This man held my dreams in the palm of his hand. I owed him everything.
“Be careful who you are spending your time with,” he said sternly. My eyes widened slightly as his meaning sunk in. “I don’t want my Aryan beauty tainted by the likes of those less worthy, yes?”
Unable to think of a response, I nodded my head hesitantly. He held on tightly to my arm as though trying to gage if I truly understood before finally releasing me to run back to my room. When I made it, I sat heavily on my bed, my hands on my knees as I came to understand the real reason I was there. My voice was one thing, but in truth it was comparable to Jean’s in every possible way.
Herr Eisler valued me because of the color of my hair and eyes. And if things in Austria kept going the way they were, people like him would make sure that I had no friends left.
Chapter Seventeen
The Sound of Music
From that moment on, a couple of things happened. Jean declared me her ultimate enemy, and I found myself more and more being protected by my friends, whom I also had to protect. Hateful messages were painted on our door. We were tripped in the hallway. In spite of being the new celebration of the conservatory, my life was a little bit hellish. It wasn’t long after I met Sebastian that I encountered Giselle in the ladies bathroom one morning while I was brushing my teeth.
“Do you like Sebastian?” she asked pointedly, without preamble. I scraped the bristles of my toothbrush over my front teeth as I thought about how to reply. Spitting foam as delicately into the sink as possible, I turned to face her.
“I just met him,” I said, noncommittally. Her hunched shoulders relaxed, and she smiled in relief.
“Oh thank goodness! You see, I’m absolutely in love with him, and I wouldn’t want that to come between us,” she said, her tone saccharine. The message was clear: even if you thought about it, back off. I smiled back, though when she departed, I sighed in disappointment. There were few other boys in our school to begin with, and none of them made my heart sing like Sebastian did. Still, in the name of friendship, I tucked the feeling away and tried to focus solely on my music.
By the time the new year rolled around, I had, as predicted, secured the role of the lead of our new show. It was based on an 18th century aristocrat during the French Revolutionary War, and I sang songs about losing my wealth and how stupid the poor were. At the end, I was guillotined, which was symbolized as I was led off stage and followed by the shing of blade on wood. It was morbid, but extremely powerful.
In order to hide away from the dull, pulsing, drumbeat of hate that radiated in our general direction at all times, Sebastian introduced us to a secret room hidden behind a practice stage that led into the catacombs of the conservatory. In the dark, surrounded by the moist scent of the deep earth and rotting wood, we told ghost stories and jokes. Candlelight danced along our faces, giving us the fleeting sense of safety and peace that we so rarely got above ground.
“And then…just before she was about to fall asleep…he dove into her bed and killed her!” Janika said, jumping from her seat and swiping at her neck for emphasis. Giselle screamed and grasped Sebastian’s arm, nestling her head against his shoulder. He smiled politely and held perfectly still, like petrified wood. Finally, she pulled away, and he scooted just an inch further, closer to the candle. His eyes flicked to mine for barely an instant before he teased Janika for a terrible ending. It was times like this that I like to remember the most…when we were all together, right before the world fell apart.
I was just about to make my spring debut in March of 1938. We were in our final rehearsal, the corset of my old fashioned dress digging into my rib cage. I was just thinking about how I would have to discuss that with the costume designer when I heard my father’s voice echoing around the theater.
“Where is my daughter? I will have her with me now!”
I had never heard him so angry…but there was something worse in his voice that I barely recognized. Fear. His eyes were wild as he frantically searched the theater before finally seeing me in costume on stage. Even from a distance, I could tell that he had lost weight. His eyes were older, the plum shaded bags below them a sign of extensive restlessness. My stomach began to hurt.
“What is it, Father? What has happened?”
“I will not explain to you now. Please, J, just get changed as quickly as you can and come with me. We must get home as soon as possible.”
I had never heard him beg. As it dawned on me that that was precisely what he was doing, I swept up my dress and called out for someone to help me backstage. The time it took one of the girls in the back to unhitch me from my garment was immeasurable, though I could have sworn it took her years to unlace the stays. Sliding on my more comfortable cotton dress, I felt cold sweat sticking to my back. Ignoring it, I made my way back out to my father, and was ushered into the backseat of our black car. Bringing nothing but myself, I cast a thought out to all my belongings back in my room, and wondered absently if they would be returned to me. Would I be gone that long?
“Father, please, tell me what is going on!” I cried. It couldn’t possibly be worse than anything I had imagined at that point…so I believed.
With sagging shoulders, my father ran a veined, wrinkled hand over his face, as though he could wipe out the weight of the world by rubbing it away.
“Hitler’s army is marching on Austria as we speak. His intention is to claim Austria as German territory, and I fear he has already succeeded.”
I jumped in my seat as though struck by a fist. No one could deny what this would mean…Hitler had made no secret of wishing genocide on an entire race that happened to include every friend I had, not to mention every friend my father had as well. I stared out the window without seeing until I realized that a crowd was gathering around us. It became so thick that the driver had to stop the car, and without thinking I opened the door and stepped out to see what was going on.
Crowds of excited Austrians lined the streets, as though preparing for a parade. Long lines of soldiers in rows of three marched in unison down the center of the road, and a man holding a flag sporting a spindly black swastika against the backdrop of blood red led the charge. It was then that I saw Hitler for the first time. Standing tall, his hand held out flat in salute, he stared down with beady eyes at the people of Austria, whom he now claimed as his own.
Now if any of you have seen the Sound of Music, you know that everyone in Austria was really patriotic and went around singing Edelweiss, looking grim at Hitler’s oncoming storm, right?
Wrong.
The people of Austria could not have been more thrilled to welcome Hitler and all that he promised. Austrians had sat back and watched angrily as Germany prospered under his regime, while unemployment ran wild and the people of my country were starving and jobless. Adolf Hitler was welcomed with raging cheers and wild applause, and as I stared around at the wide smiles of my fellow countrymen and women, I knew that our lives were about to change forever.
After Hitler’s car passed us by and the crowds
began to dissolve, the worst began to happen.
“Hey everyone, look what I found!” a young man in a brown suit was dragging a man by his beard into the street. The people around me hissed and jeered. The man in the brown suit yanked at his prisoner’s beard, causing him to fall to the ground, dark eyes gazing up in agony and dismay. He was then spit on by five or six ladies while everyone nearby laughed.
“Leave him alone!” a young boy shouted, presumably the man’s son. He rushed to his side, but before he could get there a soldier appeared out of nowhere and grabbed the boy’s dark hair, yanking it back forcefully. The child screamed and began to thrash in protest.
“You want your father to live?” the officer asked brutishly. That got the child’s attention, and he stopped fighting immediately. The officer, his red patch standing out on his sleeve, pulled a dirty toothbrush from his pocket.
“Clean this street, boy,” he said, glancing around at the impromptu audience with a smirk. The boy glared at him in defiance, but, seeing his father still curled up on the ground, he grasped the toothbrush and began to scrape it against the sidewalk. A few folks laughed at that. Once the silence of it got boring, the officer violently kicked the boy in the stomach, spit on him, and walked away.
I realized then that I was crying. My father wrapped his hand around my arm slowly.
“We must go, J, before anything else happens…”
I pulled my arm from his grasp, feeling the heat of his moist palm slide over my wrist and fingers as I broke free of him.
“I will not see this happen to my friends. I’m going back to the conservatory now!”
I ran until my lungs ached to burst. My side exploded with a stitch, and I could feel the insides of my shoes rubbing painfully against my feet, skin peeling into shallow pink cuts. And still I ran. When I finally reached the conservatory, a feeling of dread washed over me, and I was paralyzed with the fear of it. Remembering the grimace of pain on the boy’s face as he was kicked, I managed to drag myself up the stairs and wind my way back to the room I shared with Janika.
Past Lives Page 14