Opus One

Chapter 1: �Praeludium

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Richard cursed quietly to himself, as up ahead a trumpet player squeezed into a practice room Richard was about to claim for his own.� The guy had materialized around the corner and beaten him to the room.� He didn�t even glance at Richard as he closed the door.�

Dickhead. School hasn�t even started yet, and already this place is a zoo, he thought to himself.� He hefted his shoulder bag with a sigh and continued walking down the hallway past the occupied rooms.� Musical fragments faded in and out of each other.� Why do the oboe players have to practice in the rooms with pianos?

Up ahead, a door opened.� Richard quickened his pace, holding open the door as a girl walked out.

�Thanks,� she said.

�No problem.� It�s crazy trying to find a room here.�

�Yeah, for sure.� What do you play, piccolo?� she asked, eyeing his bag.

�No, piano,� he answered.� He didn�t need to ask her, as she was carrying a French horn case.

�Oh, I�m sorry,� she said.

�Sorry? �What�s wrong with the piano?� Richard asked, surprised at her comment.� Was she a brass snob, or something? he wondered.� She�s cute about it, though.

�Nothing, but� You won�t like this room.�� She looked apologetic.

Richard peeked around the door and groaned.� It was one of the empty rooms.� He hadn�t yet learned which ones had pianos and which didn�t.

�I�m Emily,� she said, holding out her hand.

�Richard,� he said, taking her palm in his.� It was warm, and slightly damp.� He figured he was sweaty too, and he hadn�t even sat down to play yet.� The rooms had no cooling, since vents would transmit sound from one room to the other too easily.� Richard vaguely wondered how long summer lasted around here.� The late-August humidity and heat permeated the building, and got trapped in the practice rooms where students would add their own heat.� By late afternoon, as it was now, the rooms were almost unbearable.�

But there was no other place to practice, being a pianist.� Not exactly an instrument carried on the shoulder, or easily fit in half of a dorm room.

�Well, I better be going,� she said.

�See ya,� Richard said.�

She squeezed by him in the narrow hallway.� Richard closed the door to the room and then continued walking.� He passed the three �Piano Majors Only� rooms, but they were full, as usual.

Finally he found a room.� He almost missed it, but then he noticed there was a gap in the patchwork symphony that played as he passed the doors.� He backed up and peered through the small square window, and thankfully there was a piano in the room.� And no oboe players.

Before he even sat at the bench, he was already feeling the prickles on his forehead, as sweat began to bead up.� But there was nothing for it; he couldn�t open the door and flood the hallway with his playing.� He had his first lesson tomorrow morning, so ditching the practice was out of the question.�

Richard stretched as he looked at the stack of music he had brought.� He wasn�t quite sure what he would play for her.�

Should I choose the Liszt, go for impressive?� Or the Beethoven? �I think I play that one section really nicely.� Or the Scriabin? She is Russian, after all.

Richard adjusted the bench and sat down, running his hands through his hair.� He selected a book from the pile, opened it, and began his warm up routine as he ran the piece in his head.

Three hours later, Richard was done.� His throat was dry and his head was swimming.� He hadn�t drunk any water, but that was typical. �Not many things could break him out of his concentration, not even a heavy thirst.� Now that he had finished though, he realized his mistake and wandered out in desperate search of a water fountain.

The water tasted like a mix of concrete and chlorine, but he drank greedily anyway.� He could almost feel the water soaking through him like liquid through a dry sponge.

When he walked back down the hall to collect his stuff, Emily was peering into his room.� She didn�t have her instrument with her, though.

�Oh, hey,� she said, when she saw him.� �I�m looking for my roommate.� We were supposed to go eat dinner a half-hour ago.�

�Who�s your roommate?�� �Richard laughed to himself at his question.� Not that I know anybody here yet.

�Sandra d�Arcy.� Do you know her?�

�Nah, I don�t,� he said, with a shake of his head.

�All right, I guess I�ll keep looking.� See you later.�� She smiled and started to move past him.

�Uh, where are you going to go eat?� Richard asked.�

Emily stopped right in front of him.� Richard didn�t back away, but she did slightly.

�I don�t know, probably the Domino�s pizza down the road.�

Richard made a face.

�Yeah, I know, it�s nasty,� she said, �but it�s cheap.� Do you have a better suggestion?�

�No, I�ve already eaten there twice myself, unfortunately,� he admitted.�

Emily laughed.� �Do you want to come?�

�Uh, sure. �I think I�m done practicing.� This room�s an oven.�� Richard unconsciously wiped at his brow for the hundredth time that afternoon.�

�Tell me about it.�

�They should put in space heaters.� It would probably cool the rooms off.�

Emily laughed.�

�Excuse me,� said the trumpet player who had earlier beaten Richard to a room.� He was walking hurriedly towards them.

�Hey, Jimmy,� Emily said brightly.

�Oh, hey,� he said blandly, squeezing through and hurrying off.

He�s friendly, Richard thought to himself.� He gave Emily a questioning look.� She just shrugged wide-eyed.

�Let me get my stuff packed,� Richard said, gesturing into the practice room.�

�Are you in the dorm?� she asked.

�Yeah.�

�Cool.� You want to meet in the lounge in twenty minutes?�

�Okay.�

�I�ll try to find Sandra meanwhile.� Bring your roommate if you want,� she added.

�Nah, he�s not even here yet.�

�Oh, all right.� See you in a bit.�

Richard looked after her as she walked off.� I can get up in front of hundreds of people to play and not feel any nervousness; why do I feel a little anxious now?

Richard convinced himself it was his upcoming lesson with Ms. Tertychnaya that was weighing on him a little.

I�m ready, he reminded himself.

Sandra d�Arcy was incredibly gorgeous.� Not just cute, not just pretty, but gorgeous.� When Richard saw her and Emily come out of the stairwell and stand in the foyer, it took him a few seconds to realize they were waiting for him.� As he jumped up off the couch, he hoped they didn�t notice he was staring.�

�Richard, Sandra,� Emily introduced.� Richard started to move his hand out, then took it back, feeling awkward.� Then Sandra started her hand out, and for a moment there was a silly arm dance as they tried to decide whether to shake hands.� Finally they did, amidst some laughing.

�Shall we?� Richard asked, holding open the door to the dorm building.�

The trio stepped out into the warm evening, walking in a line but not too closely.� A group of people were playing a pickup game of soccer on the lawn.� He thought he�d seen a few of the people earlier that day in the practice rooms.

�So what do you play, Richard?� Sandra asked.

�Piano. �You?�

�Voice.��

Figures, Richard thought.� She�s too pretty to be buried in an orchestra pit.

�Cool,� he said.

�Are you a first year?� Emily asked.

�Yeah, you two, uh, too?� Also?� he asked.

They were.

�I hope this orientation stuff this week isn�t too long,� Richard said.

�Yeah, hopefully we don�t have to do stupid games and stuff,� Sandra said.

�Or sit through long meetings about common sense,� Emily added.� �If it�s common sense, then why are they showing us?� �Lock your doors at night... Don�t let strangers into the building...� Well, duh!�

�Yeah, I hate that stuff!� Richard exclaimed.� �In high school we had these safety classes and they were so stupid.� It was stuff for five-year-olds and shit.�

Richard winced at having let out a bad word so soon, but the two girls didn�t seem to be bothered by it.

�I mean, if you haven�t learnt that stuff by now, you probably would have been kidnapped already,� Sandra added.

�Weren�t we supposed to get a schedule for the week?�� Richard asked.

�Tomorrow afternoon at the first meeting,� Sandra said.

�Ooh, I can�t wait!� Emily said.

�Do we really have to eat at Domino�s?� Sandra asked, as the blue and red sign came into view.� She wore a grimace on her face.

�I vote for wandering the area and looking for something better,� Emily said.� �You guys?�

�Yeah, me too,� Sandra chirped.

Richard hesitated for a moment.� He didn�t have much cash, and he had to stretch it out until the meal plan kicked in.� That meant two more days of eating out.

�Uh, sure.� As long as it�s cheap.� Otherwise I�ll be starving the rest of the week until we hit the cafeteria.�

�Eh, you�ll probably starve there, too,� Emily said.� �I hear it�s nasty.�

�Yeah, Tapler Dining Hall.�� Sandra spat the words out.� �They�re under new management.� Some hotel took over or something, but a polished turd is still a turd.�

�Thanks, that�s real appetizing, Sandra. �I can�t wait until Friday night,� Emily said sarcastically.

�So where to?� Richard asked.�

It feels good, being on my own, he thought.� His nervousness was gone.� Maybe it wasn�t the lesson.

�Let�s go up that way,� Emily said, pointing.� �Looks like there�s stuff there.�

They crossed the street and made their way towards a section of shops.

�So where are you from?� Emily asked Richard.

�New York.� The Bronx, actually.�

�What�s your accent? �It doesn�t sound like New York,� Sandra noted.�

Richard was surprised: most people couldn�t detect it.� But she is a singer, so she would be in tune with those things, he reminded himself.

�I�m Italian,� he said.

�Ah, parla Italiano?� Sandra said.

�Si,� Richard replied, surprise crossing his face.

�Bene, eccellente.� Allora possiamo parlare e Emily non capira!�

Emily was watching the exchange, amusement on her face.� �Hey, I heard my name!� Great, now you two can talk about me and I won�t know what you�re saying!� she said dramatically, rolling her eyes.

�No, we won�t do that. �That�s rude,� Richard assured her.� �But how do you know Italian?� he asked Sandra.

�I�m a singer, remember?� Sandra chided.

�Yeah, but, I didn�t know you actually learn all the languages you sing.�

�Well, I like to. �Otherwise, how can you really understand the text?�

�True. �I never thought of that,� Richard admitted, nodding.

�But some singers don�t.� They just learn to pronounce the words, and they know what they mean, but don�t speak the language.�

�Hey, how about here?� Emily said, stopping suddenly and peering into the window of a small restaurant.

Richard glanced at the menu.� The prices weren�t exactly like cheap pizza, but they weren�t too bad.�

�Sure,� he said.�

Sandra shrugged and opened the door.�

The aromas inside of Belinda�s Caf� were enticing.� The menu was eclectic: interesting sandwiches and salads, and then five or six cooked dishes that weren�t the typical caf� food either.� Emily suggested a booth, and Richard sat across from the girls.� The server brought three waters with the menus.

�Anything to drink?� We have a good wine selection,� the waitress offered.

I guess she thinks we�re old enough, Richard thought to himself.�

�Can we get the house red?� Emily asked without hesitation.

Sandra and Richard looked at each other.� The server eyed the trio for a moment.

�You�re all of age, right?�� If she suspected otherwise, she kept it out of her voice.�

I probably shouldn�t have shaved back at the dorm, Richard thought.� The stubble always adds a few years.

They all nodded in agreement.� The server smiled knowingly and went to get the wine.

�You do drink wine, right?� Emily asked quietly, when she had left.

�Yeah, of course,� Sandra said.� The two girls looked at Richard expectantly.

�Come on, I�m Italian. �What do you think?� Richard said.� �I make my own, even.�

�Really?� Emily said, eyes flashing.� �That�s very cool!�

�Yeah, my family makes wine. �We�ve done it every year since I can remember,� he said.� Richard let out a short laugh.� �I had my own wine glass for dinner when I was twelve.�

�That�s awesome.� I wish my parents had been cool like that,� Emily lamented.

Richard just shrugged and smiled.� Show off, he thought to himself.

Their server brought and poured the wine, and took their order.

�Cheers,� Emily said, holding out her wine.

�To new friends,� Sandra said.

�New friends,� Richard agreed.� The three clinked their glasses together.

�I like this place,� Sandra said, looking around.� The dark wood paneling made the high-backed booth they sat in seem even more secluded.

�Yeah, too bad we�ll be eating cafeteria food in a few days,� Emily said.

�Ugh, I don�t even want to think about that right now,� Sandra groaned.

�So where are you two from?� Richard asked, changing the subject.

�Near Columbus, Ohio,� Sandra said.

�Near the White House,� said Emily.

�Is your dad the president or something?� Richard joked.

�Pfft, yeah right.� My dad hates politics.�

�Why does he live in Washington then?�

�Why do musicians live anywhere?� That�s where the job opening was.�

�What does he do?�

�He conducts Baltimore.��

Emily said it as simply as if he worked in retail or something.

�Your dad is Clark Rathbourne?� Richard exclaimed, eyes almost popping out of his head.

�Yeah.�

�Jeez, that�s awesome!� Screw making wine... That�s really cool!� His recording with Reston of the Tchaik piano concerto is in my top ten.�

�Yeah, he�s proud of that one too, though he�d never admit it,� Emily said.� �He takes himself way too seriously to admit it.�

Richard looked at Emily in amazement.� He always knew, vaguely, that music school would be a place where he�d meet some incredible musicians, but the reality suddenly hit him full on.� I�m sitting across from the daughter of Clark Rathbourne, one of the country�s top orchestra conductors.

�I�m just his daughter,� Emily said dismissively, as if reading his mind.� She looked a little uncomfortable.

Richard realized he was staring.� �I�m sorry, of course.� I didn�t mean to make a big deal out of it.�

�No problem. �I get that all the time.�� She took a long drink of her wine.

Is she annoyed with me? Richard wondered.

�She gets tired of people talking to her about her dad,� Sandra added.� Emily rolled her eyes, but didn�t dispute Sandra�s comment.

Richard made note of that, and decided not to bring up Clark Rathbourne again.

A few hours later, the server poured the last bit of the wine into their glasses.� Richard opened the check she had set down.

As he looked through his wallet, he wondered about the wisdom of ordering the second bottle of wine.� Paying for the entire meal was out of the question now, although he wanted to do so out of chivalry.� He was buzzed, and thus feeling generous.� Maybe I can just eat ramen the next two days.

The girls, meanwhile, had eyed the bill and each placed a twenty on the table.� Richard vacillated for a moment, and then decided that he wouldn�t even have enough for ramen if he footed the whole bill.� It�s not a date, anyway, dumb ass!

He placed a twenty down on top of theirs.�

�Looks like it�s Domino�s the rest of the week,� Richard lamented.

�Yeah, but this was way fun,� Emily said.� Her voice had gotten bubbly over the course of the second bottle.� Any friction from the discussion about her dad was long gone.

�We should do this every week,� Sandra agreed with a grin.

�Wouldn�t that be cool?� Emily said.

�Whoa, hold up,� Richard interrupted. ��I have like fifty dollars left for the next two weeks, until work study kicks in.�

�Fifty bucks?� Heh, Domino�s is right then!� Sandra said.

�Looks like we�ll need a booth for two next time,� Emily said, nudging Sandra.

�Hey, thanks a lot!� Richard cried.� �So my family doesn�t have a lot of money,� he admitted glumly.

�Richard, we were just teasing you,� Sandra said, patting his hand.

�Yeah, chill,� Emily agreed.� �I can spot you some cash until you start working.� What are you going to be doing anyway?�

�I think front desk duty.�

�Sounds real fun,� Emily said sarcastically.

�Are either of you on work study?� Richard asked.

�Nah,� Emily said.

�I am.� I�m an usher for concerts.� Sucks.�

�Sucks?� I�m going to be stuck answering phones for ten hours a week.�

�And I�m going to be ushering cranky old lechers to their seats while they try to look down my blouse,� Sandra complained.�

Emily and Richard laughed.�

She has a point, Richard thought.� Although I�d try and look down her blouse if I was an old lecher, too.� Richard�s eyes inadvertently dropped to Sandra�s chest for a moment, before he caught himself and looked back at her eyes.� Sandra was watching him with a smile.� If she noticed his glance wandering, she didn�t show it.

�Want to switch?� Richard asked.� �You have a much better phone voice than me, I�m sure.� And no one will want to look down my, uh, blouse.� Not that I�d wear one,� he added quickly.

The girls giggled.�

�So you�d go topless?� Emily asked.� Sandra let out another giggle.

Richard considered them for a moment.� �Sure, why not?�

�That would be brilliant!� Emily exclaimed.� She laughed wildly.� �Maybe the whole usher staff should show up topless one night!�

Sandra smacked her arm.� �Dream on!� Easy for you to say, Miss I�m-not-doing-work-study!�

�Well, the guys at least should do it,� she amended.

�Yeah, that�s not going to happen.� Brenda is the usher coordinator and I�ve heard she�s a real dictator.�

�Oh well, one can dream.�

Emily held out her wine glass unsteadily over the center of the table.

�To topless ushers!� she said loudly.� The people at the next table looked over with a mix of smiles and frowns.

�Shh!� Sandra and Richard admonished, as they clinked their glasses together.� But they couldn�t help laughing with Emily.

The walk home was noisy, but fun.

Forward to Chapter 2