"Are you all right, Janice?" Christina asked, breaking the silence.
Janice's expression was one of serious concentration, and she ignored Christina as she put the damp bra and panties back on. She walked over to the closet and took out one of the fresh body shirts, and she put it on as she walked to the chair where her dress was draped. Christina frowned thoughtfully, watching her as she put the dress on and adjusted it.
"Are you all right, Janice?"
Janice leaned over in front of the mirror, brushing at her hair with her fingers, "Of course I'm all right," she snapped, standing back and looking at her dress in the mirror, adjusting it.
Christina looked at her more closely, frowning.
"What did you say, Janice?"
"I said I'm all right!"
Janice started walking toward the door, and Christina stepped to her and took her arm firmly in her hand. "Janice why are you speaking German? You know I can't understand you. Now tell me…"
"Will you stop being stupid and leave me alone!" Janice snapped, snatching Christina's hand from her arm and dropping it, then walking to the door.
"Janice, if you'd just speak English and tell me…" Christina began, then she shrugged helplessly and shook her head as she followed Janice through the door.
Known and unknown faces flashed past her vision as she walked along the hall, and the strobes popped in her face unceasingly. There were more people gathered around at the foot of the stairs, and they began applauding again. Their rapidly moving hands and open mouths were blurred on each side of her as she walked through them and up the stairs. The light engineer was watching her. She passed him with her steady stride and walked along the wing. The audience could hear the applause from the wing, and they began applauding again in a rising tide of sound. The orchestra began applauding again. Shouts of "bravo" began to ring out.
It had been a heady, exciting night in the far distant past. A happy, carefree time when the days were long and golden with love. She had been with Lisa in her dressing room during the intermission, and she had soaked the towels in the sink and wiped the perspiration from the beautiful body. She had helped Lisa dress again, then she had walked with her back along the crowded corridor. They had paused for an instant in the wing. The second part of the concert had been the Mahler Fifth. Lisa had smiled down at her, her liquid eyes twinkling with love and with triumphant joy for the roar of applause as they screamed for her. "They want Mahler, so let's give them Mahler, little darling," she'd said. Then she had walked onto the stage and she had given them Mahler. She had brought them from their seats in thunderous applause for the Mahler she'd given them.
Janice motioned toward the light engineer. He threw himself against the rheostats. The light began changing as the house lights went down and the footlights came up. The applause swelled to a thunder. She slowly raised the ring to her lips and kissed it. "They want Mahler, so let's give them Mahler, my darling Lisa," she murmured. Then she walked onto the stage.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The roar of sound swelled higher, and the audience came to its feet as she walked onto the stage. The orchestra was applauding, and their heads snapped around toward her and their eyes followed her as she walked toward the center of the stage. She stopped by the podium and turned toward the audience, bowing. The applause from the audience began slowly diminishing, and there was a rattle of seats as some of them began sitting down. She turned and bowed to the orchestra. Their applause abruptly stopped and they readied their instruments. She stepped onto the podium. The applause from the audience stopped. Her fingers found the baton and picked it up, and she raised it as she lifted her left hand. Absolute silence fell throughout the hall, and the distant, muffled sound of a car horn from several streets away was clearly audible. She looked around the orchestra, gathering them. Then she dropped her hands and slid them smoothly into the entrance to the prelude.
The orchestra was tired. They had surpassed themselves in the first part of the concert, and it had drained them. And she was tired. But she flailed herself to greater efforts and seized them, dragging them and spurring them on, and they rallied and went with her. The surrealistic madness of the composer's mind flowed in a giant tapestry which flickered and changed from scene to scene, and she guided them as it billowed and flowed in its majestic terror. Sweat ran down their faces and it streamed from her as she held the impetus up bodily, urging on one then another as they began to flag. The audience sat mesmerized as movement after movement flowed by. Then the finale. And then pandemonium.
She staggered as she stepped down from the podium, and the concertmaster made an abortive movement toward her. Her hand gripped the podium and she steadied herself, and he sat back and began applauding again. The windows were rattling and the foundations of the building were quivering from the sheer volume of the sound as she walked toward the wing. She stopped, bowed to the audience and to the orchestra, then disappeared behind the curtain. The applause rose even louder, becoming demanding and insistent. She came back out, bowed to the audience and to the orchestra again, then disappeared behind the curtain once again. Her face was pale and streaked with sweat, and she was still clutching the baton in her right hand. They called her back out. Then they called her out once again. And again.
On the fifteenth bow she motioned to the light engineer and walked toward the stairs, and the strobes began flashing again. The stairs and the corridor were glutted with people, and the crowded back to make room for her as they applauded and the strobes flashed. She walked through them with a firm, rapid stride, her chin up and her eyes to the front.
Christina followed her into the dressing room again. "Janice, this place has never had a night like tonight," she said as closed the door and leaned against it, smiling at Janice.
Janice stopped, her back to Christina, and she looked at the opposite wall. Her features were neutral and her lips were set in a firm, straight line.
Christina could see her face in the mirror, and she cleared her throat as her smile faded. "Did you hear me, Janice? There's never been a performance like the one you gave tonight. I don't know how you did it – it didn't even sound like the same orchestra. You were wonderful – just listen to those people out there."
Janice walked to the closet and took out the remaining body shirt, then she took it to the bathroom and pushed the door open. She hung it on a hook in the bathroom, then turned and looked at Christina. She was still holding the baton, and she suddenly threw it at Christina. It cracked solidly against the wall and rattled across the floor. "Will you leave me alone!" she screamed at the top of her voice, then she went into the bathroom and slammed the door with a thunderous crash.
Christina looked at the door, her mouth open in shock and surprise, then she closed her mouth and shook her head. "I'll be a Goddamned son of a bitch if I'll ever fucking understand Goddamned musicians if I live to be a fucking hundred years old," she said quietly, shaking her head. She turned and opened the door, and it quietly closed behind her.
Janice undressed in the bathroom and hung the dress and her underclothes on hooks, then she wiped herself down with a couple of wet towels and dried herself off. She dressed again, putting on the fresh body shirt, then she threw a towel in the sink and let it soak in cold water while she was zipping her dress and adjusting the sleeves of the body shirt. The sink began filling, and she picked up the towel and bent over the sink, laving her face with the icy water. She wrung the towel and daubed the water from her face, then she opened the bathroom door and went back into the dressing room, patting her face with one end of the towel.