Falling Stars (22 page)

preparation, and what his life was like living in New York and traveling with the orchestra.
"I
have no doubt," he said. "that you will end up with one of our finest symphony orchestras. too. You don't know how lucky you are to have this
opportunity. I wish I had been given it when I was your age. For me it was quite a struggle, but for you, with your talent and Madame Senetsky's connections, it should be so much easier. I can think of no one who carries more respect and influence in New York, as well as the world's most important cities, than she does."
I thanked him, and when I turned. I saw Madame Senetsky had been standing very close, eavesdropping on everything he had said to me and I had said to him. Our eyes met for an instant and I saw the pleasure in her face hearing all the wonderful things about herself. She nodded at me as if to say, "See? Now you know why you had better do exactly as I tell you." Then she turned her attention to Rose.
For a moment. I appeared to be free. There was no one with whom I had to make conversation. It was as if a fresh breeze had come into the room. I could take a deep breath and let myself relax. It was shortlived, however. As soon as I turned toward Chandler. Mr. Bergman was there with a friend of his who taught at Juilliard.
"Madame Senetsky is lucky you didn't audition for me," he said. "You would have had a scholarship and be attending my school.
"But," he added with a small sigh, "I'll have to admit she gets her students placed well and on to very successful careers. She has an amazing track record."
"Which is why I am here in the first place," Mr. Bergman told him.
His friend assured me I would be working for a prestigious orchestra some day soon.
"Just work hard." he said. "and listen keenly to everything Madame Senetsky tells you," he admonished and walked off
. If I hear that from one more person,
I thought.
I'll scream
.
When I gazed about.
I
saw how all of the others were glowing. Thankfully, it was a very successful evening. Toward the end of the reception. Madame Senetsky expressed that very sentiment to us. She looked proud and content.
Finally released from my obligatory chatter. I hurried to join Chandler. Barry and Rose fell in with us and the four of us started out of the room, intending to spend some time together in the parlor. but Ms. Fairchild caught up with us in the hallway.
"Remember curfew, girls," she warned. She tapped the face of her watch, "Twenty more minutes and your friends will have to leave the house and you're all to be in bed."
She marched ahead of us to join Madame Senetsky in the entryway saying good night to the guests.
"Twenty minutes! That woman is like a pail of ice water," I moaned.
Her warning did have the effect of cooling down our excitement. From the way we were all seated in the parlor and the looks of disappointment on our faces, anyone would think they had walked in on a funeral.
Steven joined us a moment later, bopping in like his legs consisted of springs.
"What a night, huh?" he cried. I bribed a waiter to give me an extra glass of champagne." He heard no response and looked at each of us. "What happened? Someone's pet rock die?"
"Nothing happened, Steven, except ten minutes ago. Ms. Fairchild made sure to tell us we had less than twenty minutes to spend with each other. Chandler came all the way from Boston!" I cried.
"We don't get to see each other very much even though Barry's here in New York, Our relentless schedule makes it very difficult." Rose added. "You'd think we'd get a little more consideration. I hate these curfews and restrictions. Other people our age don't have them."
"The price of fame!" Steven joked. No one laughed. He gazed at us all for a moment and then, after looking behind him to be sure he wouldn't be overheard, stepped farther into the room and closer to us all. "How about me showing Laurel and Hardy here how to get back into the building after Dracula's daughter bolts the entrance?"
"What?" Chandler asked. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about sneaking you guys back in and upstairs. It's easy. You just go around the side of the building and climb the fire escape to their windows," he said. "They're on the same side and have the same landing."
Rose looked at me and I felt my body freeze. "How do you know about that?" she asked him. Steven shrugged,
"I just happened to look out and notice, and then. when I was walking about the grounds. I saw how to do it." He turned to Chandler and Barry. "You'll have to pull yourselves up a bit on the ladder. I don't imagine it will be too clean, so you might spoil your nice clothes, but," he said glancing from Rose to me and then back to Rose. "it might be worth it."
Chandler looked at me to see what I thought of the idea. I couldn't help but be afraid.
"If they get caught." Rose said. "we could be thrown out tomorrow."
"So don't let them get caught. Jeez," Steven said. "Isn't there any adventure in your guys?" We were all silent.
"Or any male hormones?" he added, followed by his thin, silly laugh as he sauntered out of the parlor.
"What do you think?" Chandler asked Barry. I'm game for it if you are. Girls?"
Rose widened her eyes and turned to me. I looked at Chandler, who was staring at my hand, just realizing I wasn't wearing his ring.
"What happened to it?" he asked, nodding at my fingers,
"What?" Rose asked.
I bit down on my lip.
We could hear Ms. Fairchild's voice in the hallway.
"Do it," I blurted rather than answer his question.
"All right," Barry said smiling.
Rose looked terrified and surprised at me. When Ms. Fairchild made her presence nearby obvious. I suggested the boys leave.
"There's only a few minutes left anyway," I said. "Our windows will be open halfway. Steven's right. We're on the same landing, so it's easy."
Chandler smiled.
"I'll be like Romeo, climbing the balcony," he said.
"It's just about as dangerous for everyone," Rose muttered and we stood up to walk with them to the front door. Ms. Fairchild followed us with her gaze and was standing behind us when we all said our good nights.
"You did very well, girls," she told us. "Very well. Now get what I'm sure is a much-needed night's rest."
She pivoted and marched away, her heels ticking over the tiles until she disappeared around the corner. Rose looked at me. She smiled with
excitement. We held hands and hurried up the stairs. At my doorway, we parted.
"Have a much-needed night's rest," she mimicked. I laughed, took a deep breath, and entered my bedroom.
For a moment
I
stood there staring at the window. Do I dare? Should I just leave it down and forget this idea? Was it worth the risk?
As I approached the window, I felt a tingling start at the base of my stomach. I wanted Chandler. I wanted him to hold me and kiss me and comfort me. I wanted to be loved like I had never been loved. What right had that woman to demand
I
take off his expression of affection, my beautiful ring? Why should we let her control our very heartbeats, our every quickened breath, our laughter and our tears? No one should have such authority over another.
I slipped the ring back onto my finger and held it up in the moonlight. Its glitter reassured me.
Partly out of defiance and partly out of the longing I had for him. I lifted that window and slowly brought it to a position halfway open. Excitement seemed to explode in my heart, sending a thunderous beat and reverberation through every nerve, dousing me in a warmth that cupped my breasts and made my lips wet with anticipation.
I turned from the window and went into the bathroom. where I stared at myself in the mirror for a few moments. Then. I unbuttoned my blouse and peeled it off. I lowered my skirt and stood there in my bra and panties for a moment. I brushed down my hair and then, after a deep sigh, stepped back into my room.
Chandler was already standing there,
silhouetted in the moonlight that poured through my window. He did not speak. I flipped off the bathroom light and crossed to my closet without speaking either. My heart was pounding. I was playing out my own fantasy, imagining he wasn't really there. He was a dream instead. I hung up my blouse and my skirt and then turned back to him. He hadn't moved. His face was still in dark shadows.
I went to my dresser and, with my back to him. I undid my bra and slipped it down my arms. I put it in the drawer and closed my eyes. My body was tingling all over, my nipples so hard, they ached.
"Honey," he whispered. "I do love you so much."
I stood there. waiting. First. I felt his lips on my neck and then he kissed my shoulders and pressed his face against my hair. He wrapped his arms about my waist and held me against him. I let my head fall back and his kisses climbed up my neck again. Then his hands moved over my breasts, cupping them, strumming my nipples, washing wave after wave of excitement up and into my face, which felt so hot, I thought I could cook an egg on my cheek.
Slowly I turned around and we kissed, long and hard, both of us breathing very fast.
"I want you so much, my whole body is in pain," he said. How wonderful that made me feel.
When I was a little girl, my Grandad made me believe that desire was the road to hell. He had me terrified of myself, my dreams, my urges and feelings. There was a time when I thought I was the most sinful of people, feeling guilty because I had developed into a woman.
It
wasn't until
I
met Chandler that
I
began to look at myself differently, and when
I
learned about Grandad's own sinful acts.
I
realized why Mommy often chastised him by throwing back at him the Biblical quotes he often whipped at me.
"He without sin cast the first stone." Mommy would tell him. and Grandad would shift his eyes quickly and walk off mumbling to himself.
"Pay him no heed." Mommy would urge me. "He's all twisted up inside,"
When all these thoughts battled within my dizzy brain, I heard a voice inside me whispering, telling me that what I felt was not evil, but beautiful. Two people who truly cared for each other, who loved each other dearly, made the most beautiful music in the rhythm of their hearts. The ability to love each other wholly and purely was truly a blessing, not a sin. I longed to bury Grandad's warnings and threats with him, once and for all, now and forever.
And there was only one way to do it.
Chandler and I did not speak. We moved to my bed so quietly, gracefully, it almost seemed not to be happening. He stood beside the bed, gazing down at me. The moonlight played on his eyes, his lips, whitening his face. His slow, deliberate
movements combined with that made me feel as if we were both performing an ancient love scene in some Kabuki theater. His clothing fell from him like a curtain. He slipped off my panties. Moments later we were both naked, holding and kissing each other with an increasing desperation.
"We've got to be careful,' the sensible side of me managed to say.
"Don't worry. I'm prepared," he whispered.
Grandad had made the act of love into something bestial, ugly, raw, and violent in my mind. He knew nothing of tenderness. He knew nothing about bringing one heart into another, turning two separate people into one. We were both reaching so deeply into each other, we surely touched each other's very souls. I thought. In my musical mind. I felt our lovemaking building to a crescendo. It took my breath away. I clung to him as if I believed I would fall forever and ever if I didn't hold on to him. I was squeezing him so hard. I was sure he was in some pain, but it was an exquisite pain. He did all he could to keep me from stopping, crying. "No, no, not yet," as if his lingering within me would keep us bonded forever.
And then, both spent, we released each other and lay there side by side, catching our breaths, falling back to earth, dropping into our separate bodies.
"I don't see how it's possible to love anyone more than I love
you. Honey," he said after a few moments of just listening to each other breathe.
I smiled, turned, and kissed him first on the tip of his nose and then his lips.
"Nor can I, Chandler."
"Why didn't you have the ring on your finger before?" he asked, touching it now and holding my fingers in his hand.
"Madame Senetsky thought it looked too much like an engagement ring."
"So? I don't understand,"
"She would prefer her students to look totally dedicated to their professions. She wants us literally to have no other interests or goals in our lives but that."
"How can being in love with someone hurt your effort to become a successful musician?" he asked, grimacing with confusion.
"We'd be distracted. It's what she believes, not what I believe," I added quickly. "But she threatened to send me home if I wore the ring in front of people."
"Oh," he said sadly. "Hey," he said, "don't worry about it. She can't stop the flow of love from me to you." I smiled.
He started to lift his head to kiss me again when my eyes caught a shadow moving over the wall. I turned to the window and then cried out. We heard her flee up the ladder.
"What... what was that?" he asked.
Now my heart was pounding to a different rhythm, thumping to a different drummer: abject fear.
"Oh, no," I cried.
"Was someone there? Was someone spying on us?" Chandler asked, sitting up quickly. "One of the boys? Steven? What? Tell me. Honey." he pleaded.
Footsteps in the hallway made us both deadly silent for a moment. We listened and then heard them pass and begin to descend the stairs.
"What's going on?" he whispered.
"Get your clothes on. Chandler," I urged. I went for a nightgown quickly. He started to dress.
"What's happening?"
"I don't know," I said.
"I don't understand. Was there someone out there or not?"
"Yes, there was. There's someone living upstairs, someone none of us have met. We think it might be Madame Senetsky's daughter."
"Well, why is she using the fire escape? Was she spying on you?"
"I don't know. It's all very strange."
"What did you mean by you think it's her daughter? Is it or isn't it?"
"We're not sure. She looks like her son. but..."
"So you've seen her?"
"Yes. but..."
"But what?"
"Madame Senetsky told me her daughter died some time ago."
"Huh?" He scratched his head and then shook it. "I don't understand."
"I can't talk about it any-more,"
I
said, hesitating to tell him the rest of it: how she dressed, the missing clothes. Evan's research.