"Yes, Madame." She nodded,
"You have a certain je ne sais quoi," she said with her softest smile yet, "what in French is a certain quality not easily described, perhaps. In your case. I believe it comes from your innocence. Honey. You remind me a great deal of my daughter, whom I unfortunately lost at a very young age. However, just in observing you a short time, practically no time. I sense it, sense the way you have such trust in the music you play, your instrument, the mystery of all that. If you don't lose that quality , become jaded or cynical, you will be just as extraordinary a talent as Steven. I would like to see that same trust given to me, to my school," she said.
No one had mentioned her losing a daughter. I thought. I felt honored she had compared me with her.
She continued to smile.
"You look like you don't really understand, but you will. some day. I'm sure. Is everything else all right? Your room, the facilities..."
"Oh, yes," I said quickly.
"Good.' Her smile lifted and was quickly replaced with that schoolmarm look. "When someone speaks to you, try not to look down so much. You need to look into the eyes of people to see how sincere they really are, what they're really up to. Most people can't hide their true thoughts, prevent them from peeking out at you through their eyes. When you avoid them, you give up an important defensive tool.'
"Defensive?"
"You must always be on the defensive," she said sharply. "There are people who will lie to you to get you to do what they want, people who will lie to you to make you trust them. People like us are easily exploited. Honey. We yearn so much for applause, appreciation. opportunity. There are those, parasites, who sense it and take advantage of us. That is why our lives must be driven by a constant search for truth," she said. "And also why we must exude confidence. Pull your shoulders back. Stand firmly, otherwise you telegraph your insecurity and encourage the vultures."
When she spoke, she did seem to be on a stage delivering an important soliloquy, posturing, delivering her words with such authority.
She stared into my face so hard. I had great difficulty doing what she wanted: keeping my eyes on her.
"You're a virgin," she suddenly said. It was so unexpected I couldn't help but blush. "I'm right about that. am I not?"
I barely nodded.
"I'm glad, Don't lose your virginity for a long while yet. You're not aware of it, but it gives you a certain edge, a way of looking at everything that will change radically once you do lose it.
"I'm speaking from experience," she added. She smiled again. "Don't look so worried, my dear. You will succeed. I insist upon that."
She said it as if she could command the sky to clear, the rain to fall or not fall, the night to wait longer before pushing out the day.
"I must go look in on the others. Have a good first day, my dear," she said, patted my arm, and walked off.
Steven, who had stopped playing once he had realized Madame Senetsky was right there in the doorway speaking with me, jumped up from his piano bench and hurried over before I could release the hot breath in my lungs.
"What did she say to you? Did she say anything about me?" "She thought you were extraordinary."
"She did?"
"But nowhere near what you can be."
"Why does everyone say that?"
"Maybe because it's true," I said, starting away.
"Wait a minute. She said something else. Something that made you turn red in the face. I saw that."
I didn't answer and he kept after me.
"Don't deny it. You were speaking with her quite a while. I pretended not to notice. but I did. Well? What did she say? C'mon. It's not right to keep secrets that involve all of us. One for all and all for one. remember?"
"It doesn't involve all of us. It was something very private," I finally turned and blurted at him.
"Oh." He thought a moment and then seemed to quickly lose interest. He shrugged. "I'm hungry. Let's see what's for lunch."
He marched ahead of me. but I was still trembling from the intimacy of my conversation with Madame Senetsky. How could anyone look at me and know if I was a virgin or not? Was it because of how I reminded her of her daughter? Was her daughter my age when she passed away?
I couldn't look at Rose and know positively that she wasn't a virgin, or even be that sure about Cinnamon, despite her sharp, knowing ways.