Second Chance Idol: First Impression

[babydramatic_1950]

 

“That was a magnificent rendition of ‘My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord’ this morning."

 

“Thank you.  Oh, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.  I’m Carla Boothby.”

 

The new choir director from New York stared into her eyes hypnotically. A brief thought crossed her mind that that was how seductions began; something she had no experience of.

 

“Well, Carla Boothby.  Has anyone ever told you that you sound just like a young Fedora Barbieri?”

 

“No.  But thank you.”

 

“I was expecting you to say ‘who’s she?’"

 

“Oh no.  I’ve heard her.  I have lots of old opera records.”

 

“Do you sing any opera?”

 

“Only at home.  Except – I did do a concert of Handel arias last year to raise money for the church.”

 

“What other arias do you know?”

 

“Oh, the old chestnuts from Carmen and Samson and Dalila.”

 

“So what’s your favorite?”

 

“I guess – Dalila’s ‘Mon Coeur S’Ouvre a ta Voix.’  But I’ve never sung it in public.  It’s much too – you know, risqué – for church."

  

“I’d love to hear you sing it.  In fact, I’d love to work with you.  Could you come to my studio some time?  If you already have a coach, I’m not trying to steal you away, just to give you a few pointers.  You realize, don’t you – it wouldn’t take much to turn you from a good singer into a really great singer.”

 

 “I don’t have a coach…I had a wonderful voice teacher but she passed away a few years ago. I’d…I’d love to come to your studio.”

 

 “How about this afternoon?  I can’t think of anything I’d like better than to hang out with you.”

 

“Oh, I can’t.  My mom expects me to take her home and make Sunday dinner.  In fact, she’ll probably be here any minute.  She’s not well. She has emphysema and she can’t be alone for long.  A neighbor takes her to church on Sundays so I can get here early and focus on my singing.  But I can never stay much afterwards.  Not even for all of ‘fellowship hour.’”

 

“You can’t let your mom hold you back forever.  Even if she’s ill, you have to have a life.  God gave you a great voice.  It’s your duty to serve in the temple of art.  Not just sit out on the steps!  Ordinary people sit out on the steps.  You can get a practical nurse to look after your mother when you need to! Don’t sit out on the steps Carla!”

 

“I’m all she has.  My father left us when I was only ten.  We never saw him again.  He died a few years ago but we didn’t go to the funeral.  My mom was always overprotective but it’s worse now since she got ill and has been home on disability.  We’ve been living on what I make as a hospital administrator. But I do know I need to get out more. I really want to start singing more places than just in church.  I know!  Maybe I can come on Saturday.  A neighbor comes in to stay with my mom so I can do some shopping.  I’ll just say we have an extra choir rehearsal.  I’m not going to tell mom I’m alone with you in your studio!

 

“See you Saturday, then.  At 11?   Of course I guess I’ll see you Wednesday too.  At regular choir rehearsal.”

 

“Yes.”

 

He stared into her eyes again.  She felt weak in the knees, sort of all gooey, like in all the romance novels her mother left lying around. Not how you were supposed to feel in church.

           

“But I won’t feel we’re really working together until Saturday when we’re on our own and I can focus on just you.  Because – you’re something really special.” 

 

Bill hugged her and their bodies melted into each other. It lasted too long Carla thought. Not a friendly supportive “God be with you” kind of hug. Something else. Then he pulled back, but he kept staring into her eyes, and held onto her upper arms.

 

“Oh, Carla.  I’m so glad you’re here.  Bye now.”

 

Then he was gone and her good friend Janie was there, taking the lid off the piano bench and rummaging around, breaking the trance. 

 

“Carla!  I didn’t think you’d still be here.”

 

“Why are you back here Janie?” (Was she really angry at Janie? She was definitely not herself.  Something was not right.)

 

“I came back to get some music for Miss Doralee to take home.”

 

“Oh, Janie!  Do you know what Bill said?  He said I can be a really great singer.  A real opera singer not just a choir soloist.  He told me it was my duty to serve in the temple of art!  And then he said, ‘You’re something really special.’  Oh Janie, he stared into my eyes like he could see right into my soul!”

 

“It sounds to me like he was interested in a lot more than just your singing! I think he may have a ‘thing’ for you.  I could tell from his body language.  We really need to talk more about this – but I have to run.  Miss Doralee is waiting outside.”

 

“I’m so glad she’s gone,” Carla thought, after an eternity of waiting for her friend to finish stuffing everything that had been in the piano bench into a shopping back and running off, but not before she had turned and yelled at Carla, “Be careful.  I mean it.”

 

“It’s not like that!” Carla screamed back, mostly to herself.  “Don’t you understand?  He thinks I’m special!  He’s coached all sorts of big time singers in New York.  And he thought my rendition of ‘My Soul’s Been Anchored in the Lord’ was special!”

 

*****************************************************************************

  

Whatever it was that Carla had expected to find when she entered Bill’s studio, in other words, “what you probably would see in the living room of a voice coach/choir director/someone you met in a church,” this was certainly not it. Yes, there was a piano, of course, and several book cases full of books on singing and scores, and even an old fashioned record player, but dominating the room, between the piano and the bookcases, visible to anyone standing by the piano, was a huge bare-breasted statue of an Indian goddess. And the walls of the room were painted pagoda red. The look on her face must have betrayed her lack of sophistication, because Bill, sitting at the piano, turned to her and said

 

“So, Carla.  This is my temple of art.  Not like how all your nice churchlady friends live, is it?  So let’s get to work.  What have you brought?”


[If you want to watch and listen to a clip of the aria that Carla thinks is "risque", it is here https://youtu.be/tgr4parx-rU ]

 

Comments

[water_shadow]

Okay. Singing. I have no idea what it is. I know birds sing. But cats at least can't sing. We can't whistle like birds. Humans can whistle then?

[dmousey]

Thank you for not making this dark, and for the video! I enjoyed got greatly! Happy New Year! Peace and joy! ✌❄🎉⛄😊🎀

[dmousey]

Kitties can yowl! ✌😆🎆🐈🐱

[itsjustc.livejournal.com]

I really enjoyed reading this! I had this feeling throughout that there was going to be a twist in the tale and that something nasty was going to happen - I'm glad it didn't!

As a massive lover of music I've also listened to all the music you mentioned and also to Fedora Barbieri and have enjoyed being introduced to some new (to me) music.

[adoptedwriter]

This was fun to read!

[oxymoron67]

This was great. I am not religious now, but I love(d) church music.

[bleodswean]

Poor Carla and such naivete - I want to read what happens next! I love the twist with "the temple of art" - nicely done!

[babydramatic_1950]

These characters actually appeared in a play that I wrote, so I may post more if the prompt would elicit something (if I make it to the next round!) Stay tuned. Thank you for your compliment.

[tonithegreat]

Stay _tuned_! I see what you did there!

[the_eternal_overthinker]

That's good to hear. I would love to read more on them.

[sonreir]

Oh, dear -- I do wonder what's in store for poor Carla. Quite a compelling story!

[tonithegreat]

I read with a sense of dread for Carla and was glad not to see anything dire yet. I too am interested to hear more of her!

[the_eternal_overthinker]

I enjoyed knowing these characters and would love to see them again. An interesting plot . Good Job with the "first impression" of them :)