Chapter Fourteen: Reflection

I woke up at my normal time on Monday morning, feeling slightly groggy. Maggie had called the night before, begging that I tell her every little detail about my date with Richard… which I did. I hadn't fallen asleep until midnight, so I could tell coffee was definitely in order for that morning.

After changing into jeans, a form fitting black shirt, and tennis shoes, I made myself some oatmeal and waited for the coffee machine to kick in. When it was done I put in half milk and cream, and half coffee. That little dose of caffeine was all I needed to get perked up, and after putting on foundation and mascara, I grabbed my things and left for the theater.

Maggie was waiting for me at the sidewalk, wearing a new red leotard and black sweat bottoms, with her hair pulled back. Seeing me she broke into a smile, and as soon as I was by her side, we began chatting.

"So," She said, "you have to tell me!"

"Yeah, good morning to you too." I murmured, "And what do I have to tell you?"

"Well if you and Richard are an item!"

I blushed and shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know. I don't think so for now. Though we are going to the cast party together."

She giggled. "Well, there you are! You guys are so an item. I mean, you do like him, don't you?"

"Maggie," I groaned, "I really don't know how I feel about him yet. I just want to see how our next date goes, and then I'll make a decision. But for now, I'm not sure."

"Oh," Her face fell. "You mean, you may not like him?"

"Again, I'm not sure. I think he's attractive and everything but, something feels off. It maybe just nerves about the whole thing, but I just want to proceed carefully since I'm not certain. He's been a good friend to me for a long time, and if we screw this up, I may loose that friend."

She nodded. "All right, I guess you have a good point. I'll drop the subject."

"Good, thank you."
"But are you seeing Desmond tonight?"

I glared at her. I knew she was just curious, but she had to be wary about when she asked about him. "Shush! Be careful! We can talk about it now, but as soon as we get in the theater, the topic's closed. Yes, I'm seeing him tonight."

"Excited?"

I gave a smile and nodded. "I actually am. I have to ask him about auditioning for A Night of the Stars."

She let out a squeal of delight. "Chris, you're trying out?"
"Maybe. I want him to tell me if I'm good enough to try out or not. And if he says I am, I want him to pick a song out with me, and then tell me what I need to work on. I'm sure he'll have good advice."

"Yeah, I'm sure he will too." Suddenly she stopped walking and gave me a curious look. I waited for her to say something, like I spilled coffee on my shirt or I had oatmeal on my face, but she didn't. She just continued to look at me.

"What is it?" I finally asked.

"I don't know." She said, shrugging and beginning to walk again, "It's just, you changed when you started talking about Desmond."

"I… what?"
"You changed. I don't know how to explain it Chris. It's like when I watch you sing, and you get to a really cool part in the song. There's an aura about you, a glow. The same thing happened when you were talking about Desmond."

"Well," I said, "he is a pretty cool guy. He's helped me out a lot lately, musically. I've really come to admire him."

"I think that's true to an extent, but I'm beginning to wonder if maybe you're chasing the wrong guy."

"What does that mean?"

"Look, you're unsure about Richard and what your feelings are towards him, but when you talk about Desmond you get all gushy on me. Maybe you're trying get the wrong person's attention."

I burst out laughing as soon as she said all that. To me, it was one of the funniest things I had heard in a long time. "You're kidding, right?" I chuckled, "Mags, Desmond is twenty-seven. He's ten years older, and has shown no interest like that in me. Yeah, I think he's neat and really awesome, but that's not what our relationship is about. It just doesn't feel like a crush with him."

"And what does a crush feel like? Like Richard?"

"Well, yeah! More than Desmond at least. Richard and I are clicking in all the right ways. I mean, sure, something is missing but it'll come in time."

"What does Desmond feel like then?"

That question made me pause, and I thought for a moment. "I don't know," I finally said, "it's hard to explain. What I feel for him is different than anything I've ever felt for anyone. His voice literally pulls you towards him, and it seems like you could sit there forever in his presence to listen and watch him. He moves so gracefully, it actually makes me think of a dancer. When he talks to me he makes me feel like I'm the only person in the world that matters. And even if he's criticizing my singing, it's easy to take and I listen to him and apply what he says. If what I felt for him were a crush, then I would be tripping all over myself for him. But I'm not. He calms me, and makes me feel good about myself and singing."

"So… it's like love?"

I was about to strangle this girl. Clearly, she wasn't getting it. "No." I stated, "It's not like love. It's like two people having a student/teacher relationship. It's not like love at all."

"And how do you know what love feels like?"

I shrugged. "I know what it doesn't feel like. Desmond and I, we're both strictly business."

"Well Ms. Strictly Business, we better stop talking about this. Look who's waiting at the theater."

I turned my direction toward the stairs of the theater, and saw what she was looking at. There was Richard, wearing jeans and a brown polo, relaxing against the metal railing. Seeing Maggie and I he gave a short wave, and then walked over to greet us.

"Good morning girls." He said, quickly falling into stride with us. I turned to him and gave a bright smile.

"Hi Rich." I said, "Did you have a good weekend?"
"Yes, I did… for the obvious reasons." He answered, giving me a wink.

"You two!" Maggie groaned, "You guys make me want to throw up."

"Oh Mags, you'll understand one day." Richard sighed.

"Don't worry, I understand now… that you two are completely disgusting!"

I laughed, and just as I did we walked into the lobby. As we made our way into the auditorium, I saw that the ballet girls had gathered on the stage and were doing stretches. The orchestra was getting into places in the pit, and I realized that today was the first day that the rehearsals would be taking place on stage for the show. I absolutely loved it when the orchestra was in the pit. The orchestra actually consisted of the most talented students from our high school and college. They were part of a summer music camp thing that the theater did every year. Since a lot of the theater's orchestra were gone during the summer months, they pulled in other local talent by setting up this camp. They would give the director and group the sheet music for the upcoming ballet or musical for the summer, and then they would practice at the school a month prior to about two weeks before the show. Then they would come into the pit to work with the cast, get the kinks worked out, and become used to playing in such a confined space. Finally the nights of the show would roll along, and everyone would be ready, being well rehearsed and adjusted for the theater. I had always loved the summer months because of how well this select group of musicians played. Many times I could hear them from the costume room, or wherever I was volunteering. The music helped the time pass, and sometimes I would bust a move myself, depending on what was being played. But now, I could tell there would be no dancing backstage for me if they were doing stuff from Swan Lake.

"I better get going," I said to Maggie and Richard as we stepped on stage, "I need to make sure all the dresses are good to go for rehearsal on Wednesday. And of course, Leo's costume might need to be altered…" Leo was the leading man in the show, and was one of the most beautiful dancers I've ever seen. He reminded me a lot of Gene Kelly, with his fluid movements and robust energy. The guy could do almost anything, from ballet to tap, to even break dancing.

"He tried it on the other day, and he said it was fine." Maggie reassured, "After you let out the shoulders, it fit him perfectly."

"What about the other ballet girls? Have they tried on their costumes?"

"Not all of them, but most of them have since you did the alterations."

"Okay, can you tell those who haven't to try them on, and if there are problems to find me?"
"I will." Richard said, "After all, I am the stage manager."

"That would be great." I said, heading toward the stairs, "Thanks a lot Rich. I'll see you guys for lunch."

As I walked toward the costume I took a moment to look behind me, to glance over the cast one more time. I saw Leo near the corner stretching with five other guys in the ballet group. Two of them, Peter and Isaac, had moved to town recently but did dance where they used to live. The other three guys were Benji, Kyle, and Tyler. All of them had been dancing since grade school, and loved it. They were really nice guys, but sometimes it was hard to remember that there were males in the troupe. After all, when you have a group of thirty girls, it's hard to remember there are six boys.

I walked up to the costume room, and shutting the door behind me, began to rummage through the costumes. Most of the girls only had one costume, but fifteen of them changed once in the show, from being swans to lords and ladies attending a party. I had all ready picked out stuff for them to wear, but I like to go through everything one more time, in case I missed something that might be easier to slip on and off, or dance in. Besides, I had nothing else to do, since they weren't doing rehearsals in costume until Wednesday.

To pass the time I would close the costume door and sing, in between listening to the orchestra practice. I always carried my ipod with my lesson songs on it, and I had made copies of the sheet music, which I kept in my purse. I was close to memorizing everything, but the fast tempo in the middle of Who'll Buy My Lavender always had me tripping over my words. I finally got so frustrated with the song that I had to stop singing it, and switch over to The Water is Wide and American Lullaby. I loved both songs, but American Lullaby struck a cord with me somewhere. It was the most contemporary, being written in the 1930s, and it had a cool, jazzy feel to it.

A few hours passed, and finally, it was lunchtime. Today Richard, Maggie, and I ate at Panera, sitting at a booth by the window. Maggie looked downright exhausted, and so did Richard.

"Is Mrs. Dublin really working you guys this hard?" I asked, taking a bite of my sandwich.

"Yeah," Rich muttered, "she has me running around backstage, getting the ballet troupe stuff and making sure the proper cues are given. Tomorrow I'll get a headset though, which should make my job easier."

"That sounds easy." Mags sighed, "Try being the lead. It's grueling everything I have to do."

"I believe that." I said, "I'm worn out just getting costumes ready. I couldn't imagine dancing for two hours."

"Well, soon you'll be performing too." Rich mentioned, "Since you're thinking about auditioning for A Night of the Stars."

"Yeah, you better audition!" She teased, playfully hitting me, "It's about time you stood up to Candice and beat her for the final spot."

"I know I should, but you're forgetting one thing. Every year she pulls out all the stops to make her performance, well, watch-able. She has the best costumes, backup dancers, and killer effects. With her, it isn't about the music. It's about the spectacle, and people fall for that. All I have is my voice."

"Why don't you try out with an accompanist then?" She suggested, "If you decide to audition, give my dad your sheet music ahead of time and I'm sure he'll play the piano with you. I think that might leave an impact on the judges."

"Are you sure your mom would be okay with that?"

"Yeah. People have asked my dad to accompany them before, and it's never effected the rulings of the show."

"All right. If I decide to audition, I'll offer your dad a chance to play for me. Thanks for telling me about it."

"Don't thank me. He would love to play for an audience."

We made it back to the theater later on, and finally after a long day of rehearsing, it was time to go. Like every day Maggie, Richard, and I parted ways at the corner, and I quickly walked home.

By the time I got home it was sixty-twenty, which meant I had a little over an hour to eat, get cleaned up, and drive over to the theater for my music lesson. I made myself a plate of left over stir-fry, and a small salad. After eating I walked into my room and pulled out my makeup, remembering Desmond's letter and his comment about my appearance. I put on the blue and white eye shadow, with eyeliner and mascara. When I was done with that I swept red blush across my cheeks and rolled red lipstick on my lips. I looked at myself in the mirror, and decided I would pull my hair back in a tight bun. After doing so I decided to go with the hairdo, and then I practiced my songs a few times.

Finally it was seven thirty, and I grabbed my things and locked up the house, so I could leave. I didn't want to rush like I did the last time going to see him, and if I came to the theater early, maybe I could hear him sing again. I jumped in my car, turned the stereo up, and began my drive to the theater.

I was there in under ten minutes, and soon my car was parked and I was approaching the doors. I opened them; stopping so I could hear if there was any music coming from the auditorium. Sadly, I didn't hear anything, and I walked through the lobby somewhat disappointed.

I soon found myself on stage, and I looked down to the orchestra pit to see a small light was on. I climbed down the latter into it, and I saw Desmond pushing a few chairs against the side wall, so we could have room to practice. The orchestra had brought them in earlier for rehearsal, and I guess kept them there so that way they didn't have to set them up again. The light in the small pit was coming from a desk lamp, set on top of the piano and hooked up to a nearby electrical outlet. For a while I watched Desmond in the shadows, moving the chairs back. He didn't seem to notice me, so while he was working, I studied his appearance. Today he was wearing a dark green shirt with jeans and black converse. His hair was tidily combed down, and of course, the white mask was on his face.

"Hello Chris." He said suddenly, not even turning to look at me. I put a hand over my mouth in surprise. Well, I guess he had heard me come in.

"Hi Desmond." I greeted, recovering quickly from my shock, "Do you need help?"
"No, I'm almost done. Give me a few more seconds, and we'll get started."
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

He stopped what he was doing, shrugged, and walked over to sit on the piano bench. I gulped, watching him make the simple movements into something sweeping and majestic. I came into the light as he sat down, and I believe for the very first time, his eyes met mine. The look of them made me draw in a deep breath, and I had to step back. His eyes were usually distant, but then, they saw me. I watched as they seemed to flash for a moment, a trick done by the lightning or his own feelings, I'm not sure. But the small hint of emotion shocked me, and I suddenly grew nervous.

There was maybe a minute's pause, one of the longest minutes I had ever endured in my life, but finally he spoke.

"I would love to sketch you sometime." He said.

"What?" I was slightly taken back.

"I would love to sketch you sometime. You have an exquisite face. It's a very unique, classical beauty."

"I didn't know you sketched." I said, "I mean, on top of playing the piano, singing, and writing plays and songs… you sketch?"

"Yes. I picked it up about six years ago. I thought since I was musically and literarily talented, perhaps I could be an artist visually too. I guess I'm not too horrible, I've designed sets before."

"Wow, impressive. So, you'd like to sketch me?"

"Yes."

I looked down, feeling my cheeks grow hot. "Okay. I'd like that. Thank you. I bet your face is—exquisite—too." I wanted to hit myself for that last comment. God, whenever I get nervous, I say the most stupid things.

But to my surprise he didn't seem fazed by the comment. "It's different, but in no way, is it like yours." He sighed.

I looked down at his hands lying in his lap, and saw they were bandaged up around the knuckles. I walked over closer to him, at last coming out of the shadows, and pulled up a chair across from him. He didn't protest as I reached over to touch his right bandage. For some reason he was allowing me on his level, letting me talk to him like he wasn't just a teacher.

"What happened to your hands?" I asked softly, afraid of losing this moment.

"My piano lid fell on me while I was playing the other day." He answered, "My knuckles were banged up pretty bad."

"Does it hurt to play? If you can't, I can play my own music."

"Well, it's nice to know you can play yourself, but no. For you, I can play. You all ready have enough to think about when you're singing." At that moment the connection we had was lost, and he went back to being my teacher. I withdrew my hands, realizing that our informal conversation had flown out the window. "Now," he continued, "what was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

I sat up and took a deep breath. "A Night of the Stars is coming up, and I wanted to ask you if I should audition or not."

"A Night of the Stars?"

"It's the talent showcase the theater holds every year…"

"I know what it is. And you want to know if you should audition. Well, I can't tell you to audition or not. It's up to you. I have no control over what you do or not do."

I looked at him, wondering if maybe this was a kind way of telling me I shouldn't try out. "Desmond," I said, "I'd really like your opinion on this. Am I good enough to try out?"

He glanced at my face again, something that made my heart stop beating for a moment, and leaned toward me, like he was about to tell me a secret. I copied his movements, shifting myself closer to him, and gazing back at his face.

"Chris," he said softly, "from the moment I heard you sing, I thought you were good enough to try out. I've only worked with you a few times, but you're all ready better than all of the chorus members here."

I glanced down. "That's not true." I said.

"But it is." I saw him reach his hand out, and rest it under my chin, gently tilting my face to his again. "Listen to me Chris," he whispered, his voice seeming to wrap itself around me, "you are a good singer. Yes, there is work that needs to be done for you to reach your full potential, but I'm certain that we'll get there soon. I think you should audition for the show. I'll help you pick out a song, and we'll work on it together."

I smiled warmly at him. "Thank you Desmond." I said, "I was hoping to hear that from you."

"Great." He withdrew his hand and stood up. "We need to get to work then. Since we're going to be working on a pop song for the show, I don't want you to practice Who'll Buy My Lavender or The Water is Wide. I want you to spend your time on whatever song we choose for you, and American Lullaby. Understand?"
"Yes."

"Good. And you'll need to keep doing your breathing exercises. Now, for song choice, what were you thinking of doing?"
I shrugged. "I don't know, I was thinking something kind of slow. The show often has a lot of exciting and flashy acts, and I want to stand out talent and sound wise."

"I agree with you. A slow song it is. Are you picky with genre?"
"Just don't do country. I can't stand country for the life of me."

"Then, I think I have a song for you. Do you know Halo?"

"By Beyonce? Yes, it's one of my favorite songs."

He nodded, and turned toward the piano to play it. I took my cue from him to stand up beside it.

"Do you know all the words?" He asked.
"Yes." I said.

"Okay, but I still want you to have the sheet music to practice with. Just to make sure you get all the notes. Really quick, let's warm up. If you could sing on bah, please." And he began playing the scales for me.