| Gay: Romantic: The Mentor (1/4) |
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When I closed my eyes I could picture the crowd cheering for me. They screamed out, wanting more and more. I could feel the warmth of their applause, which only got louder as I conceded to do yet another encore. “Someday that’s how it will be,” I said to myself out loud. “What’s gonna be that way, Arnold?” I froze. How long had he been standing behind me? I wondered. I hope he hadn’t heard all the nonsense I was saying. Slowly I turned my body to face him. As usual the sight of him took my breath away. He was so attractive in his tight Dockers and fitted black shirt. He walked over to me and took a seat next to me on the piano bench. My heart started racing. “Umm, well, I was just,” I stuttered. I always stuttered whenever I was around him. “Just daydreaming.” I said looking down at my fingers. He laughed and for me the whole room lit up. For years now he’d been my teacher, more than that, he’d been my mentor. It was thanks to him that next year I would be attending Julliard on a full scholarship. I wondered how he’d put up with me for so long. I was always daydreaming and spacing out instead of practicing, and usually they were fantasies of him and me. “There’s nothing wrong with daydreaming,” he said. “As long as it doesn’t take away from our practice.” He smiled and I was sure I turned all shades of red. I closed my eyes and returned to that glorious audience. In my daydream I looked to the side of the stage and there he was. He was standing in the sidelines, a bouquet of roses in hand. A smile came to my face and I placed my fingers on the smooth ivory keys. I let the music transport me to that place where we are together. The place in my mind where he tells me how he’s molded me into the person he wants to be with for the rest of his life. “Yes, yes, that’s it, with feeling more feeling!” The sound of his voice brought me crashing down. I stopped playing, opened my eyes, and returned to my reality. The reality that I was just a silly eighteen year old with a dumb crush. It was silly for me to think he could be interested. Dr. Ackerman was way too important to pay attention to someone like me, even if I was his star pupil. Many times he had told me how I was going to be famous and how he would be so proud to say he had been my teacher. But I didn’t want just his admiration. I wanted his heart. “Arnold, Arnold what happened?” he asked. “You were doing so good.” His face was not one of disappointment, but of concern. “The past couple of weeks you have been in another world, is everything alright?” he asked. I couldn’t look at him for fear of breaking into tears. But he was right. For months now I had dreaded the end of the summer. In a few days I would be leaving for Julliard and he would move on, taking on another student and more than likely forgetting all about me. This thought filled my head day in and day out. Especially when it was just the two of us. “Yes I’m ok,” I said. It barely came out as a whisper. Quickly, I looked away so that he couldn’t see the tears filling my eyes. “Ok well maybe it’s enough |
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good job