Mephisto Waltz

by Bridgett Kay Specht

  "We can find a way around that," Summer said dismissively. "I'll get a copy of the competition rules and find a loophole. Do you have anything you could enter?"

  Clara shrugged. "Not really, but my Mom is taking Giselle and me to Corpus Christi this weekend, and I thought I might go to the botanical gardens and do some sketching," she said.

  "Perfect, I'll go too! I want to go shopping." Summer casually invited herself along.

  Clara nodded and looked at me pointedly, and I thought she was about to invite me along as well, but before she said anything, Jason stood up and said, "Remember what I told you," before walking away.

  "What was that all about?" Chad demanded of Clara.

  "Nothing," Clara responded, but she picked up her bag and followed Jason, clearly not intending to let his comment pass.

  "I don't suppose you'll tell me what's going on," Chad said to Summer.

  "Later," she said, giving me a significant look.

  I pretended to be absorbed with packing up my things, but I had figured out that whatever had transpired, either Jason, Clara, or both wished for me to remain in the dark about it. Even though I realized that what had happened was not any of my business, it hurt to think that, after all we had confided in each other, Clara might be the one wishing to keep secrets from me. I told myself firmly that Clara had already proven herself to be a friend, and that she probably had good reasons for keeping whatever had transpired private. I closed my eyes for a while and listened to the wind in the palm trees, trying to clear my mind of petty thoughts.

  #

  That evening I sat at the piano, practicing scales. The rhythmic repetition of notes and the familiar tick of the metronome helped, as they usually did, to set my mind in order. Soon after I'd begun, I was able forget about the day’s strange events, and let go of my anxieties. While I was practicing, my phone rang. I ignored the phone and continued playing, but my mother, unable to let a ringing phone continue, picked up. Over the sound of the scales, I could clearly make out the sound of her voice.

  "Hello? Oh hi, how are you? I'm afraid Miranda is practicing now, can I take a message?"

  "I have voice mail," I laughed to myself, missing a beat.

  "This weekend? I'm sure Miranda will be delighted. Ok, we'll see you then. Goodbye."

  Mother walked into the living room and put my phone on top of the piano. "I hope I was right when I said you would love to go to Corpus Christi with Summer and Clara," she said. "It's fine," I said, trying to keep my concentration.

  "They're coming over Saturday morning. That way, you can spend the whole day there. By the way, do you need any money?"

  "I still have the money from my birthday," I said, sighing and dropping my hands in my lap.

  "Really? That was months ago."

  "Well, I haven't really had a chance to spend it. I've only bought one book since then."

  Mother nodded, and quickly changed the subject. "Why don't you practice the new Liszt piece?"

  "Daddy said it gave him a headache, and I should only play it when he's a work."

  "Don't be silly, Miranda, you need to practice," Mother said. “Besides, your father’s not here now. I sent him to pick up some things for dinner.”

  I nodded and shuffled through the sheet music. I started to play, and had only gotten through the first few bars when Mother started to laugh.

  "What?" I demanded, stopping.

  "I see your father's point," she said. "Well, I’m going outside, so feel free to practice."

  "It wasn't my idea," I called after her as she left. "Mr. Boscov is insane."

  I persevered for the better part of the hour, but the frustration of trying to play Mephisto Waltz completely overcame the serenity I’d gained playing scales. I was about to finally give up when my phone rang again. This time, I picked up.

  "Hello?"

  "Hello, Miranda, this is Jason." A deep voice said from the other end.

  "Oh, hello, how are you?"

  "Fine," he said. There was a moment's pause, then he spoke again. "I hope I'm not bothering you during dinner."

  "No, I was just finishing my piano practice. We tend to eat dinner late."

  "Oh," he said. Then there was another pause, followed by, "Listen, I was wondering if you'd like to do anything with me on Saturday."

  "I'm sorry, I can't. I'm going to Corpus Christi with Clara and Summer," I said.

  I thought I heard a muffled swear word on the other end, and then he spoke again. "That’s too bad. Maybe we can go out some other time."

  I hadn't realized, until he said 'go out' that he was asking me on a date. I was very glad we were speaking over the phone, so he couldn't see my face go red. After an awkward and hurried goodbye, I hung up, and then by furiously banged my way through the first part of Mephisto Waltz one more time.

  #

  The rest of the week passed with excruciating slowness. I tried to avoid Jason, knowing that he may try to ask me out again, and having no idea how I should reply. Clara seemed more than happy to join me in avoiding Jason. She switched seats with Chad in Latin, so we could sit together, but every once in a while, Jason would turn around in his seat to glare at her, and each time he did, she became more nervous and withdrawn. I didn’t want to press Clara to talk about things she didn’t want to, but I felt helpless knowing that I could not help her with a situation which was causing her obvious distress.

  Saturday morning I awoke early. I had left my curtains open the night before, so as soon as the sun rose, my room was flooded with rosy light. I got up, and sleepily made my way to the window, but as I was about to close the curtains, I stopped. The sky outside my was a deep, brilliant blue, streaked with pink, orange, and gold clouds which drifted over the horizon. Early as it was, the sun was already a bright gold, and it hit the windows and pavement in a striking way, until the houses and sidewalks in the sleepy village street below were sparkling. I sat on my little window seat, mesmerized. All of the week's anxieties seemed silly in the face of this sublimity. The new day felt like a miracle.

  I watched the sun rise until the pink and orange clouds had turned white, and the dazzling, dancing sunlight settled into a happy glow. Then I finally tore myself away from the window to get dressed. I was still dressing, in fact, when the doorbell rang and I heard my mother's voice calling up the stairs.

  "Aren't you up yet, Miranda? Your friends are here."

  "I'm coming." I said, zipping up my sundress. I ran a brush through my hair, grabbed my purse, and ran downstairs.

  I rushed outside to find my Mother standing by a large minivan, talking to Clara's mother. I could see Clara’s mother though the minivan’s window, a thin, dark-haired woman, much like Clara in build but lacking the sweetness of her features. She leaned her arm casually against the window, chatting with my mother as if they'd known each other for years. When I approached the van, the side door swung open and Clara and Summer tumbled out, laughing.

  "You can sit in the very back," Summer said. "That way you won't have to deal with the hormonal little monsters."

  "Monsters?" I asked, taken aback.

  "She means my sister, Giselle, and her friend, Laurie," Clara responded, rolling her eyes in a very exasperated, big sisterly way.

  Before I got into the van, my mother stopped me. "Remember to have fun, but mind your manners. Call me if you need anything."

  "I will," I said, and kissed her on the cheek before getting into the Van.

  I heard the sound of giggling as I entered the van, and saw two girls, about junior-high aged, staring at me and laughing quietly as I got in. Clara's mother gave the dark-haired one a strict look, then said. "I'm glad you could join us today, Miranda. I'm Clara's mother. You can call me Kathy."

  "I'm pleased to meet you. Thanks for having me along," I said.

  There was more giggling at this, which was silenced by another look from Clara's mother. "It's no trouble at all. We're used to big groups," she said.

  "Just ignore the brats," Summer
whispered to me. "They're always like that."

  "It's no big deal," I replied.

  The drive to Corpus Christi was short, and, with the lively conversation of my friends to pass the time, went very quickly by. When we reached our first destination, a large shopping mall, the group separated and agreed to meet at the nearby Italian restaurant at noon for lunch. This move was deemed unnecessary, however, when, after hours of clothes shopping, Summer finally agreed to tag along with Clara and I to the bookstore, where we spotted Clara's Mother sitting in one of the reading chairs while Giselle and Laurie sat whispering together in the Young Adults section. Clara and Summer went to Clara's mother to show off their purchases, and I listened in on the conversation for a time before I was lured away by a title in the classics section, and wandered over to get a closer look.

  I pulled the book down from the shelf and looked over the first few pages, and soon I found myself so engrossed in the story that I leaned against the bookshelf and began to read in earnest, losing track of the time. Before I knew it, I was being tapped on the shoulder, and it took me a few moments to recall where I was. I looked up and saw Clara smiling at me patiently.

  "I didn't want to disturb you, because you seemed so content to sit and read, but the others have already left for lunch."

  "Oh! I'm sorry; you should have said something sooner. I forgot I was in Corpus Christi, and not on the pleasant banks of the Garonne, in the province of Gascony…"

  "Don't worry, you haven't been in Gascony long, but we should probably go, before Mom starts to worry. Do you want to buy that?"

  “I think I do. You don’t mind, do you?” I asked.

  “Not at all.”

  Thankfully, the line at the register was short, so I was able to make my purchase quickly before we left to join the others.

  "I think I should warn you that my sister and I have been fighting, lately, so she's been taking it out on my friends.” Clara said as we were walking to the restaurant. “Summer can handle anything, you know, but I worry she might start in on you."

  "Don't worry about it. I don't mind. I know how siblings can be, sometimes," I replied.

  "Were you and your brother close?" Clara asked tentatively.

  "For the most part, he was my best friend. When he was in one of his moods, though, we'd fight terribly."

  "Well, I think Giselle's been in a mood for the past two years. She's embarrassed by me, and she thinks she can make herself look better by being rude to me in front of her friends. She takes after my dad, unfortunately. He used to put down mom in front of his family, too, after they divorced."

  "That's awful," I murmured.

  "It's not a big deal. It’s just the way he is.” She said, shrugging. “He's from an old, wealthy family- he's the one who pays for Giselle and I to go to school- and he brought this poor dancer from a tiny corps de ballet home as a sort of rebellion. It lasted a few years, and then he decided it was time to settle down with a proper wife and make his family proud again.

  We stopped talking as we spotted the restaurant. The others were seated at one of the outside tables, under the shade of an umbrella, sipping cold drinks. Giselle spotted us, rolled her eyes, and groaned. "Finally, they're here. I'm starved."

  "Giselle, be nice," Clara's mother said, giving Giselle a warning look.

  "Why? If Clara didn't have to wait for her girlfriend, we could have started eating by now."

  Lauren started to giggle again, and I could feel myself blush.

  "Stop it, Giselle," Clara said, "or I'll tell Mom about-"

  "I was just kidding!" Giselle said hastily. "Can't you take a joke?"

  "That's enough kidding," Clara's mother said, firmly.

  The threat seemed to work, because Giselle didn't say anything else during lunch, and even kept silent on the way to the botanical gardens.

  #

  When we arrived at the botanical gardens, I became unsociable again and walked a bit behind the group, lingering over the wild and exotic wetlands. I stopped walking when I saw a crane standing alone at the center of a pond, and a poem that Mark had written flooded my memory.

  A white crane on the stagnant shore does stand.

  He's motionless, a prince upon the pond,

  A regal form on silent water, still,

  But for a feather ruffled by the wind.

  My eyelids pricked with tears, and I cursed my lack of control. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and forced myself to think of something else. After a few moments, my mind cleared, and I was able to reign in my emotions. I was about to leave to search for the others when I heard a voice behind me.

  "No, Clara didn't ask her, I did... because people need to be able to make up their own minds. No- that doesn't matter. The girl isn't a plaything."

  I turned to see Summer talking into her cell-phone. She rolled her eyes, closed the phone, and then noticed me watching. She beckoned me to follow her.

  "The others have gone on to the rose gardens. I just had to make a phone call."

  "I'm so behind, today. I'm sorry," I said.

  "Don't worry about it. You're the type who likes to daydream. There's nothing wrong with that."

  We started down the path to the rose gardens. Summer put her cell phone into her pocket, then sighed. "I was just talking to Jason. He's very into you, you know."

  "Yes, he called me on Monday to ask me out."

  "And?" Summer prompted, grinning in anticipation.

  "Mother had already said I'd come to Corpus Christi with you today, so I couldn't go," I said, shrugging.

  "He didn't ask you to go out Friday instead?"

  "No, he just said he'd ask another time."

  "You don't seem very excited. I'm sure he will call you back. He likes you a lot," Summer said.

  "I believe you. What do you think I should say when he calls?" I asked.

  "Do you want to go out with him?" she countered.

  I frowned and thought for a moment. "He seems nice, except for that fight he had with Clara- which is none of my business. I don't know what to expect, though. I don't know him very well, but I guess that's why someone would go out on a date- to get to know someone."

  "Do you think he's cute?"

  I hadn't thought about this. "I guess he's what you could call attractive, in a conventional way," I said after a few moment's pondering.

  Summer laughed. "'Attractive in a conventional way-' don't you have hormones, girl? He's hot. He's not at all my type- he's too emo for me- but he is definitely do-able."

  "Do-able?" I responded, giggling almost like Giselle.

  "You know what I mean. He's-"

  "Attractive, in a conventional way," I finished for her. "Tall, dark, and brooding, like a Byronic hero."

  "So you do like him."

  "I honestly haven't thought about it. I've been too busy being terrified by the idea of actually being asked on a date. I've never done that sort of thing before, and I feel very behind."

  "It's not something you think about, you know. You either feel something, or you don't. Your problem is that you're too shy. A lot of guys, like Jason, think that's cute, but they won't wait around forever for you to make up your mind."

  "I know," I said. "I just don’t think I’m ready for that sort of thing, right now."

  Summer slung her arm around my shoulders. "You really are a little kid, aren't you? Don't worry; I'm here in case you need any advice from an older, worldlier woman."

  I laughed a little at the idea of Summer as an older and worldlier woman, but merely said, "thanks."

  #

  The rose gardens were charming, and when we arrived, Clara had already found one or two blossoms she found interesting, and was sketching. After a cursory look around, Clara's Mother, Summer, and the kids wanted to move on, but Clara wanted to stay and sketch. I volunteered to stay behind with Clara, and we promised to meet the others in the parking lot later in the afternoon. Summer didn’t seem to mind going ahead, and was chatting happily with Clara's m
other as they left. I heard Giselle say, "aren't the roses romantic," as she followed.

  "Little toad," Clara muttered under her breath, but she continued to sketch.

  I smiled at Clara to let her know I didn't mind, and opened my book to read. We sat for a long time in companionable silence. The only sounds were the scratches of Clara's pencil, and the occasional breeze as it rustled the blossoms and leaves. It was very pleasant to read such a dramatic and descriptive novel while sitting outside on a late summer day, with the scent of roses drifting headily in the air. Too soon, I became aware that the sun was falling lower in the sky, and the shadows were getting longer. I put my book down and stood to stretch my legs, and Clara moved to put her sketchbook and pencils away as well.

  "Can I see your sketches, before you put them up?" I asked.

  Clara blushed- the color was very becoming against her pale skin- and seemed reluctant to comply. Then, after a moment or two, she held out the sketchbook with a sheepish grin.

  The first two sketches were of a single rose. They were very detailed, highlighting each lovely imperfection, and elegantly executed. When I turned to the third page I was very surprised to see my own likeness in the pose I'd assumed earlier. I was sitting on a low brick wall with the open book on my lap. One long tendril of hair hung carelessly over my shoulder, and I had a serene, almost angelic, expression. Everything in the picture, from my own form to the rose-filled background, conveyed a pleasant calm.

  I looked up to see Clara gazing at me, expectantly.

  "They're very beautiful. You are incredibly talented."

  She blushed again. "You don't mind that I sketched you?"

  "Not at all, even though I think you embellished me a lot."

  Clara shook her head. "No, I didn't embellish at all. That is how I see you."

  "I'm not that pretty," I said automatically. "I think you might see me through rose-colored glasses- pardon the pun- because you're my friend."