by Kitty Parker
Intermission
Just looking over the first act, I determined that Nate Waugh, as Elijah, had far too much to sing. Stupid brownnoser. Rolling my eyes, I moved on to the second act, noting my aria directly at the beginning:
Act Two
21. Hear Ye, Israel!…………Lotte Leisch
22. Be Not Afraid…………Choir
23. The Lord Hath Exalted Thee…………Nate Waugh, Devin Parker, and choir
24. Woe to Him…………Choir
25. Man of God…………Adam Evers and Nate Waugh
26. It is Enough…………Nate Waugh
27. See, Now He Sleepeth…………Adam Evers
28. Lift Thine Eyes…………Eden Jensen, Jane Chang, and Collette Taylor
29. He, Watching Over Israel…………Choir
30. Arise, Elijah…………Ainsley Upton (alto) and Nate Waugh
31. O Rest in the Lord…………Ainsley Upton
32. He that Shall Endure…………Lotte Leisch, Devin Parker, Matt Wilson, and Kurt Matthews
33. Night Falleth Round Me…………Nate Waugh and Georgiana Bancroft
34. Behold God the Lord…………Choir
35. Holy is God the Lord…………Lotte Leisch (soprano 1), Eden Jensen (soprano 2), Ainsley Upton (alto 1), Alicia Townshend (alto 2), and choir
36. Go, Return Upon Thy Way…………Choir
37. For the Mountains Shall Depart…………Nate Waugh
38. Then Did Elijah…………Choir
39. Then Shall the Righteous Shine Forth…………Matt Wilson
40. Behold, God Hath Sent Elijah…………Eden Jensen
41. But the Lord from the North…………Choir
42. O Come, Every One that Thirsteth…………Lotte Leisch, Collette Taylor, Giles Arden, and Bryce Yates
43. And Then Shall Your Light Break Forth…………Choir
The program then proceeded to list all the members of both the choir and orchestra.
"Don't you that it might be a problem that this whole thing is in English?" I asked.
Eden shrugged. "It's mostly just names, anyway."
"True," I agreed.
Mr. Faulkner clapped his hands a few times until he had our attention, then addressed us in a loud stage whisper. "Alright everyone, let's get focused. You've been fantastic so far, if I do say so myself, so when you go out there tonight, sing with confidence."
I wasn't sure if he was expecting us to clap or give some other sort of sign of agreement or enthusiasm, but we all just stood there, blinking at him in silence. A high-pitched drone, most likely the result of the church's heating system, filled the room. It sounded a bit like a balloon deflating.
Eden nudged me. "Somebody popped a freshman," she whispered.
I snorted.
"One last thing," Mr. Faulkner continued. "I think we should all give Lotte Leisch a round of applause, since her relatives and their friends are a rather large proportion of the audience tonight. Thank you, Lotte."
Only one word came to mind that could describe this situation accurately: AWKWARD.
Oh, what I wouldn't have given to just crawl under a rock, curl up, and die. The most I could do, though, was turn beet red and attempt to shrink into the shadows while my fellow choir members clapped politely and my so-called friends tittered a bit.
"Okay," Mr. Faulkner began when the room had once again grown quiet. "It's time to get this show on the road!"
We lined up by section, sopranos first, then altos, tenors, and basses. Jane tapped me on the shoulder as she got into line.
"Hey Lotte," she whispered. "When we get out there, make sure that you get a good look at Buckley. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."
I turned my head to raise an eyebrow at her. She winked in response.
Shrugging, I followed Eden and the rest of the sopranos out onto the altar, attempting to ignore the excited whispering coming from the general direction of my family. As the other sections of the choir filed in, I kept an eye out for Will. I finally located him slouching in with the rest of the basses and noted with a certain amount of pride and amusement that he was sporting a large and highly visible black eye.
"Nice shiner, huh?" I commented, nudging Jane in the ribs.
She grinned. "Definitely. That's not the surprise I meant, though. Just keep watching him."
Nodding, I turned my head slightly to the left to get a good view of the bastard without being too obvious about it. As Mr. Faulkner entered to the polite applause of the audience and we all held up our scores to prepare for Nate's introduction, the overture, and finally the first movement, Jane's "surprise" became evident.
There, on the front of Will Buckley's score, in gigantic red letters and complete with an arrow pointing up at the douchebag's face, a single word had been written.
PENIS.
I snorted loudly.
Startled by the noise, Kurt, standing near Buckley in the bass section, snapped his head to the right to seek out its source.
Our eyes locked.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
I bit my lip.
He turned a nasty shade of puce.
We both jumped about a foot in the air as the orchestra came in with the opening strains of the introduction.
Shaking all thoughts of Kurt from my mind, I attempted to focus on the oratorio at hand. I naturally had no desire to make a fool of myself in front of my family and their assorted friends and acquaintances, so I channeled all of my energy into producing the most sublime sound that I possibly could.
With the exception of one bad note in Nate's first recitative (which, confidentially, I was rather pleased to hear, as it would likely knock him off of his high horse), the first half of the piece went smoothly. The second part was when things started to get interesting…
As the
audience finally settled down after the brief intermission, I stepped forward to perform my aria. Glancing at the front row, I noted Opa Karl's beaming face looking up at me with an immeasurable amount of pride. Oma Irmgard, sitting beside him, blew me a kiss. In the silence, a small, high-pitched voice exclaimed "Hurra, Lotte! (Hooray, Lotte!)" Forcing down a laugh as the orchestra began to play, I breathed in deeply and let the music fly:
"Hear ye, Israel!
Hear what the Lord speaketh:
O had'st thou heeded,
Heeded my commandments…"
A large piece of paper was suddenly thrust into the air by the small hand of a small boy standing on top of his pew. It proudly stated "Lotte für Kanzlerin! (Lotte for chancellor)" in large, glittery letters. I struggled to keep a straight face as Tante Elsa wrestled Lukas back into his seat.
Hear ye, Israel!
Hear what the Lord speaketh:
O had'st thou heeded,
Heeded my commandments,
Oh had'st thou heeded,
Heeded my commandments,
Oh had'st thou heeded my commandments!"
Onkel Franz, seated on the other side of his wife, gave me a huge grin and a goofy thumbs-up. Tobi, a friend of Lukas's who had evidently come along for the ride, made a face at me. Ana smacked him upside the head.
"Who hath believed our report?
To whom is the arm,
The arm of the Lord revealed?
Hear ye, Israel;
Hear ye, Israel;
Hear ye, Israel!
Hear what the Lord speaketh:
Oh, had'st thou heeded,
Heeded my commandments!
Oh, had'st thou heeded,
Oh, had'st thou heeded my commandments?"
Helga Baumann, Oma and Opa's next-door neighbor, closed her eyes and swayed along with the music. I was instantly reminded of people rocking back and forth with lighters during slow songs at concerts and halftime shows at sporting events.
"Thus saith the Lord,
The Redeemer of Israel
And his Holy One,
To him oppressed by tyrants;
>
Without thinking, I looked over at Onkel Friedrich - the definition of one who had been "oppressed by tyrants." Tears were streaming down his weathered, worry-worn face. I sang the next bit of the aria - the words of comfort and hope - directly to him.
Thus saith the Lord:
'I, I am He that comforteth;
Be not afraid,
Be not afraid,
For I am thy God;
I, I am He that comforteth,
Be not afraid,
Be not afraid;
for I am thy God,
I will strengthen thee!
I, the Lord, will strengthen thee;
For I, thy God, will strengthen thee."
Onkel Friedrich was smiling through his tears - a tragic but loving smile. It meant the world to me.
"Say, who art thou?
Say, who art thou,
That thou art afraid of a man that shall die;
And forgettest the Lord,
The Lord, thy Maker,
Who hath stretched forth the heavens,
And laid the earth's foundations,
The earth's foundations,
Say who art thou?
I, I am He that comforteth;
Be not afraid,
Be not afraid for I,
I am thy God,
Be not afraid,
Be not afraid,
I, I am thy God;
Be not afraid,
Be not afraid,
For I, thy God,
Will strengthen thee."
I was truly thankful that my aria led directly into the next chorus without any sort of pause, as I was almost certain that someone in my family would have started cheering for me (which, for the record, you are not supposed to do between movements of a piece of music). The rest of the oratorio went smoothly, though Eden was absolutely convinced that she'd gone a bit flat during Lift Thine Eyes (she'd done no such thing, of course).
As we all gathered our things together after retreating to the backstage area (which was actually some kind of Bible study room, judging by the large number of books lying around with "Die Bibel" stamped in gold lettering across their covers and the banner above the door proclaiming "Und ihr werdet die Wahrheit erkennen, und die Wahrheit wird euch frei machen." - Johannes 8:32 ("And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free." - John 8:32)) amidst thunderous applause, I was suddenly accosted by a large chorus of jubilant voices shouting random congratulatory phrases at me in German. My family had located me.
"Lotte!" chirped Lukas as he ran at me and leapt into my arms. "Das war so schön! (That was so pretty!)"
"Danke, Süßi! (Thanks, sweetie!)" I chuckled, spinning him around a few times before setting him back on his feet.
"Ach, mein liebes, liebes Kind (Oh, my dear, dear child)," Oma Irmgard gushed, engulfing me in a bone-crushing embrace. "Deine Stimme ist wie die Musik eines Engels (Your voice is like the music of an angel)."
I was hugged eleven more times, patted on the back twice, congratulated approximately twenty-four times (I lost count somewhere along the way), and even kissed once full on the lips by Helga Baumann's twenty year-old grand-nephew, Timo (which was incredibly awkward, to say the least). Apparently, my aria had "really moved him." I personally thought he was just trying to get laid.
Finally, Ana rescued me from the onslaught of well-wishers by dragging me off into a nearby alcove. "You were fantastic, coz," she praised, preferring to speak to me in English (to practice, I guessed). "I have a question, though."
I cocked my head to the side. "Shoot."
"Who was the idiot with the word 'penis' written across his music?" she asked, grinning widely.
"This jerk named Will," I chuckled. "My friend Jane wrote that on his score to get revenge on him for being a dick to me."
"Your friends are pretty awesome," she observed. "Speaking of your…friends…"
I didn't like where this was heading.
"…Could you introduce me to this Kurt guy?"
"Do I have to?" I whined.
Ana seemed surprised at my reluctance. "What, you don't want to?"
I sighed. "It's a long story…"
"Will you at least point him out?" she entreated.
"Alright," I agreed, seeing no harm in her request. In what I hoped was a discreet manner, I scanned the room for the familiar, tall figure.
Ana waited anxiously, following my gaze.
I spotted him standing off by himself near a large portrait of a minister who looked as though he might have been from the nineteenth century. "There he is," I whispered, indicating him with a subtle nod of my head.
"The tall one?"
"Yeah."
"He's cute," she mused, grinning.
"Oh dear God," I groaned. "Please don't say that. I can't deal with this right now…"
Ana gasped. "Something happened between you two, didn't it?" She nudged me a few times in the ribs to emphasize what she'd said.
I blinked at her, remaining silent.
"Oh yes, something definitely happened," she giggled. Suddenly, she planted her hands on her hips seriously. "All right coz, I want the details," she demanded.
I sighed. I did need to get the whole messy affair off of my chest somehow, and Ana, not being part of the choir, was fairly objective. Besides, if I didn't spill, she'd bug me about it until I finally cracked. "Fine," I began, deciding to give her the condensed version of the story. "Last night, I got upset about something and drank a little too much…"
Ana gave me a skeptical look.
"Ok, I drank more than a little too much," I admitted. "Kurt came to my room to check on me, and one thing led to another…"
"Oh, mein Gott!" she exclaimed. "You slept with him, didn't you?"
I shook my head vigorously. "No! No way! Definitely not-"
"You know," she interrupted. "We read Hamlet last spring in my English class, and I feel that now is a great time to quote it: 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'"
I scowled at her. "The lady protests because the cousin calls her a slut."
"The cousin thinks that the lady is getting very defensive," she retorted, smirking.
I threw up my hands in exasperation. "I just kissed him, alright? I got drunk and kissed him, and now I feel like a third-rate moron!"
Ana patted me on the back. "Don't worry, Süßi. I'm sure that he thinks you're a first-rate moron."
I gave her a look. "Gee, thanks."
"Well, what are cousins for, after all?" she beamed.
"Er, Lotte…"
Oh man, that was the last voice I wanted to hear at that particular moment.
I winced, turning around to face Kurt. "Yeah?"
He wrung his hands anxiously. "We need to talk."
I hated those four words.
"Hi!" Ana jumped in, momentarily rescuing me from a rather uncomfortable encounter. "I'm Ana, Lotte's cousin."
Kurt plastered a smile on his face. "I'm Kurt, Lotte's…friend. It's nice to meet you."
"I'll just leave you two alone to talk." Ana gave him a wink, and I resisted the urge to give her a good whack. "Keine Dummheiten, Lotte (Don't do anything stupid, Lotte)," she added as an afterthought.
I glared after her as she sauntered away. "Du bist total sadistisch, weißt du das? (You're completely sadistic, do you know that?)"
"Aber natürlich, Cousine! (But of course, cousin!)" she answered cheerfully, flashing me her most innocent grin.
Oh, she so wasn't getting a Christmas present that year.
Kurt cleared his throat. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?" he asked.
I nodded and led him out of the room, through the sanctuary (which was slowly emptying), and into the sacristy, a small room off to the side of the altar where the flowers, candles, and whatnot for services were prepared.
"So, er…" Kurt hesitantly began, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on an old chair beneath a large, wooden cross. "About last night…"
I decided to use t
he age-old excuse. "I was drunk, alright?"
"I wasn't."
I stared at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"What do you think it means?" he retorted, his hazel eyes flashing.
I let out a groan of frustration. "I'm not in the mood for mind-games, Kurt. Look… let's just act like the whole thing never happened."
"I can't just forget it, Lotte," he pointed out, running a hand through his light brown hair.
"Neither can I!" I snapped. "I'm not naïve enough to believe that we can just go on about our merry little lives and not think any differently about our relationship. We both know that every time you look at me, you're going to see me drenched, half-naked, and drunkenly coming on to you, and that every time I look at you, I'm going to see you freaked out and confused, standing in the middle of my hotel bathroom with a boner. I know that nothing is ever going to be the same. I just think that we should agree not to talk about it and to pretend, for the sake of everyone else around us, that things aren't any different between us."
Kurt gazed at me sadly, then turned his gaze to the slightly dusty floor. "Fine," he murmured.
Looking at his slumped figure, I immediately felt like a massive bitch. "Look, I didn't mean to sound so angry. I'm not mad at you, you know."
"Yeah, I know," he sighed.
"Things are just…weird, that's all."
"I'll say."
"Alright, then…" I trailed off. I really didn't want to leave matters on such a bad note. I needed closure of some sort.
I hesitantly approached Kurt and laid my hand on his back.
He stiffened from the contact.
"Can I have a hug?" I asked nervously.
He looked up at me, the unidentifiable emotion once again dancing in his eyes. "Alright," he agreed, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly, and stood up, stooping slightly to lessen the height difference between us.
Tentatively, I wrapped my arms around him. He mirrored my actions and gave me a slight squeeze.
Suddenly, the picture hanger upon which the wooden cross hung gave out, causing the object to fall and knock Kurt smartly on the head.
I winced on his behalf. That was going to leave a bruise.
Chapter 16: When In Rome, Do As The Romans Do
"I swear, if I hear the words 'Ciao, Bella!' one more time, I'm going to crack someone's skull. I'm sick of sketchy old Italian men perving on me!" Brigid curled her fists up into little balls.
