Honey (Shooting Stars 4)

We had breakfast and then the hotel doorman called us a taxi. None of us said very much. We sat and looked out the taxi windows. gaping at everything. Actually, I was looking through everything, not really seeing the people and the starts anymore. I was too nervous and afraid. My heart was pounding so hard. I was sure I wouldn't have the strength to lift the violin into position.

Mommy squeezed my hand and smiled confidence into me.

"You'll do your best. Honey," she said. "That's all you can do. After that, whatever is to be will be. When I came here as a young woman. I had to have faith in destiny. I had to believe that what was going to be was good. After you do all you can, there is nothing left but to watch and wait and accept. You must learn how to accept."

"To bend and not break," I repeated. It was one of Daddy's old sayings.

She nodded. "Exactly."

We arrived at the theater and entered with almost as much curiosity as trepidation. It was an empty theater. There was no one in the lobby to greet us. For a few moments, we stood around. Daddy checked his watch.

"They did say eleven. right?"

"It's on this letter." Mommy emphasized, holding it up. He had read it a number of times anyway.

Suddenly a door to our right burst open and a tall, thin, dark-haired woman emerged, her heels clicking on the tile floor of the small lobby.

"Hello," she said. "You're Honey Forman, I assume?" she asked. holding a paper in her right hand. She had large brown eyes and a sharp nose. Her lips were pencil-thin and curled a bit up in the corners after she spoke.

"Yes," I said.

"We're running a little late. Just proceed to the stage. There is a music stand on it for you. Start your pieces as quickly as possible," she added.

"I'm Honey's mother and this is her father." Mommy said pointedly. The tall woman widened her eyes and nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I'm Laura Fairchild, Madam Senetsky's personal assistant. Please," she added, moving to the door. She looked and acted more nervous than I was.

Mommv looked at me, shrugged as if the woman was beyond help, which brought a smile to my lips, and then nodded for us to go forward.

The theater was pitch dark except for the wide spotlight on the stage, which bathed the music stand in light. When our eyes got used to the dark seats. I could make out someone sitting in the rear. It was a woman with her hair pinned up, wearing something very dark and sitting so still. I wondered if she was real or a manikin.

Laura Fairchild gestured toward the stage. "Please," she said. "We must get started."

Daddy and Mommy took seats and I hurried to the stage. I opened my case and took out my violin and my music. First. I set the music on the stand. My hands were trembling so badly a sheet fell, and I watched it float to the stage floor. I knew I looked amateurish and awkward scooping it up and placing it on the stand. but I couldn't help it. -When I placed it there. I saw it had been the sheet over Uncle Simon's little white carnation. The sight of it had an amazing, calming effect on me. I felt myself relax, grow more confident.

After my warm-up. I took a deep breath, remembered all that Mr. Wengrow had emphasized about my posture and demeanor, and began. It was a slow start for me. I wasn't into it as well as I knew I could be. The setting, the rush-rush had chilled my enthusiasm. But suddenly. when I looked out at that dark theater. I envisioned Uncle Simon's flowers. The front row was filled with babies breath, birds of paradise sat beside pink and white carnations. Daisies looked over the heads of forget-me-nots, and on the aisles were blue, yellow, purple, and white irises. Jasmine was scattered throughout.

I could feel the smile spread over my face and fill my heart with joy. I played on, soon flowing into my music, feeling myself soar with the melody.

When I was finished. I couldn't believe how exhausted I felt. The effort had drained me of all my energy, it seemed. For a moment, I couldn't breathe. "Thank you," I heard Laura Fairchild shout.

Immediately after that. I heard the doors to the theater open and close. Daddy was down at the foot of the stage to help me.

"That was wonderful. Honey." he said, "I never heard you play better."

"If she doesn't want you, she's a fool," Mommy declared before I could say a word of self-criticism.

I laughed to myself. How lucky I was to have parents like these, I thought.

Mommy was angry- about the way we were treated. She complained almost all the way home, bringing it up repeatedly.

'Why couldn't the woman introduce herself properly? Why couldn't someone say something encouraging or even something discouraging, for that matter? What sort of a school is this anyway? I want to speak to Mr. Wengow first chance I get," she said.

"Don't blame him for anything. He was only trying to help her," Daddy cautioned.

Mommy pressed her lips together and shook her head.

"New Yorkers," she muttered. "How rude. Maybe you shouldn't think of it anyway."