She checked the mirror. She was a little bit rumpled, not as bad as she would have imagined. Her slightly open blouse displayed the small, silver cross she still wore about her neck. She had no time for makeup, but at least she was dressed. She quickly ran her hands through the water and dabbed her hair, putting some strands in place. She completed the outfit with her black, leather clutch.
She was about to run out, when she noticed her pile of old clothing and sneakers. She hesitated, debating. She really didn’t want to carry those clothes with her the rest of the night. In fact, she didn’t ever want to wear those clothes again.
She picked them all up in a ball, and with great satisfaction crammed them into the garbage can in the corner of the room. She was now wearing her one and only outfit left in the world.
She felt good walking into her new life dressed like this.
Jonah waited for her outside the café, tapping his foot, glancing at his watch. When she opened the door, he spun, and when he saw her, all dressed up, he froze. He stared at her, speechless.
Caitlin had never seen a guy look at her that way before. She never really thought of herself as attractive. The way that Jonah looked at her made her feel…special. It made her feel, for the first time, like a woman.
“You…look beautiful,” he said softly.
“Thanks,” she said. So do you, she wanted to answer, but she held herself back.
With her newfound confidence, she walked up to him, slipped her hand into his arm, and gently lead the way towards Carnegie Hall. He walked with her, quickening the pace, placing his free hand on top of hers.
It felt good to be in a boy’s arms. Despite everything that had happened that day, and the day before, Caitlin now felt as if she were walking on air.
Chapter Six
Carnegie Hall was absolutely packed. Jonah led the way as they fought through the thick crowd, towards Will Call. It was not easy getting there. It was a wealthy, demanding crowd, and everyone seemed like they were rushing to make the concert. She had never seen so many well-dressed people in one place. Most of the men were in black tie, and the women wore long evening gowns. Jewels glittered everywhere. It was exciting.
Jonah got the tickets and lead her up the stairs. He handed them to the usher, who tore them and handed back the stubs.
“Can I keep one?” Caitlin asked, as Jonah went to put the two ticket stubs in his pocket.
“Of course,” he said, handing one to her.
She rubbed it with her thumb.
“I like hanging onto things like this,” she added, blushing. “Sentimental, I guess.”
Jonah smiled, as she stuck it in her front pocket.
They were directed by an usher down a luxurious hallway with thick, red carpeting. Framed pictures of artists and singers lined the walls.
“So, how did you score free tickets?” Caitlin asked.
“My viola teacher,” he answered. “He has season tickets. He couldn’t make it tonight, so he gave them to me. I hope it doesn’t take away from it that I didn’t pay for them myself,” he added.
She looked at him, puzzled.
“Our date,” he answered.
“Of course not,” she said. “You brought me here. That’s all that matters. This is awesome.”
Caitlin and Jonah were directed by another usher into a small door, which opened up right into the concert hall. They were up high, maybe 50 feet, and in their small box area there were only 10 or 15 seats. Their seats were right on the edge of the balcony, flush against the railing.
Jonah opened the thick, plush chair for her, and she looked down at the massive crowd and at all of the performers. It was the classiest place she had ever been. She looked out at the sea of gray hair, and she felt 50 years too young to be here. But thrilled all the same.
Jonah sat, and their elbows touched, and she felt a thrill at the warmth of his body beside her. As they settled in and sat there, waiting, she wanted to reach over and take his hand, and hold it in hers. But she didn’t want to risk being too bold. So she sat there, hoping that he would reach over and take hers. He didn’t make any move. It was early. And maybe he was shy.
Instead, he pointed, leaning over the railing.
“The best violinists are seated closest to the lip of the stage,” he said, pointing. “That woman there is one of the best in the world.”
“Have you ever played here?” She asked.
Jonah laughed. “I wish,” he said. “This hall is only 50 blocks away from us, but it might as well be a planet away in terms of talent. Maybe one day,” he added.
She looked down at the stage, at the hundreds of performers tuning their instruments. They were all dressed in black tie, and they all seemed so serious, so focused. Against the back of the wall stood a huge choir.
Suddenly, a young man, maybe 20, with long, flowing black hair, dressed in a tux, strutted proudly onto the stage. He cut right through the aisle of performers, heading for the center. As he did, the entire audience rose to its feet and applauded.
“Who’s he?” Caitlin asked.
He reached the center and bowed repeatedly, smiling. Even from up here, Caitlin see that he was startlingly attractive.
“Sergei Rakov,” Jonah answered. “He’s one of the best singers in the world.”
“But he seems so young.”
“It’s not about age, but about talent,” Jonah answered. “There is talent, and then there is talent. To get that kind of talent, you need to be born with it—and you really need to practice. Not four hours a day, but eight hours a day. Every day. I’d do it if I could, but my dad won’t let me.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t want the viola to be the only thing in my life.”
She could hear the disappointment in his voice.
Finally, the applause began to die down.
“They’re playing Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony tonight,” Jonah said. “It’s probably his most famous piece. Have you heard it before?”
Caitlin shook her head, feeling stupid. She’d had a classical music class back in ninth grade, but she’d barely listened to a word the teacher had said. She didn’t really get it, and they had just moved, and her mind had been somewhere else. Now she wished she would have listened.
“It requires a huge orchestra,” he said, “and a huge chorus. It probably demands more performers on stage than just about any other piece of music. It’s exciting to watch. That’s why this place is so packed.”
She surveyed the room. There were thousands of people there. And not an empty seat.
“This symphony, it was Beethoven’s last. He was dying, and he knew it. He put it to music. It’s the sound of death coming.” He turned to her and grinned, apologetically. “Sorry to be so morbid.”
“No, that’s OK,” she said, and meant it. She loved hearing him talk. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved what he knew. All of her friends had the most frivolous conversations, and she wanted something more. She felt lucky to be with him.
There was so much she wanted to say to Jonah, so many questions she wanted to ask—but the lights suddenly dimmed and a hush came over the audience. It would have to wait. She leaned back and settled in.
She looked down and to her surprise, there was Jonah’s hand. He placed