Chapter 2:
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Sitting
in Josh's favorite booth at the local pizza parlor, about two hours before his
show was supposed to start, Jillian and Josh were playing a video game at the
table while they waited for the pizza.
When the screen went dark in demand for another quarter to be inserted
in the timer, Josh turned to Jillian and said, “Mom? Do you think Dad will make it in time before
the pizza arrives? I ordered our
favorite – pineapple and mushroom!”
Jillian
knew better than to get Josh's hopes up.
There were just too many times that Joe had promised to be there and
ended up working late or going the extra mile for an important client of the
firm. Bracing herself for Josh's
disappointment, Jillian replied gently, “No, sweetie, I don't think he's going
to make it for dinner tonight. But he
promised he'd be at the theater in time to see your performance. He's really looking forward to your debut!” Jillian tried to sound upbeat and cheerful,
ending her little pep talk with a great big smile, but Josh was
inconsolable. Crestfallen, he stared
down at the game controller in his hand, his lower lip trembled, and his
shoulders slumped in defeat.
Jillian's
eyes moistened with tears as she tried not to cry. Her own powerlessness to fix the situation
made Josh's misery that much harder to bear.
For her own sake as well as his, Jillian looked around for something to
distract him. Her eyes fell onto the
scenic background behind the clear plexiglass window at the end of their
table. The center of the window had a
knob at the bottom which opened up onto train tracks running alongside all the
booths on that side of the pizza parlor.
The picture featured a carnival scene, complete with rides, game
barkers, and happy children running amok with cotton candy on a stick. Josh's father had promised to take them to a
carnival like this one day, and ever since then this booth had become Josh's
favorite. As luck would have it, the
train with their drinks was rumbling noisily down the tracks and squeaked to a
halt at their table. Relieved, Jillian
exclaimed, “Look, Josh! The drink train
is here!”
The
drink train never failed to bring a smile to Josh's face, and tonight was no
different. His eyes brightened a little
and he came alive at the sight of the toy-sized train that was parked in front
of their table with two large cups of his favorite root beer. But even as he reached for the paper cup from
the back of the train, Josh's demeanor and motions were still very
subdued. The train would help distract
the pain for now, but the hurt had not dissipated, and the disappointment would
not easily be forgotten.
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A
few hours later, Josh peeked out from behind the plush red velvet stage curtain,
searching the audience for his dad. This
was his fifth time doing so in the last twenty minutes and each time he peeked
out to look through the audience for his dad's face, he pulled back even more
dejected than the time before. This time
he dropped his hands and slumped his shoulders so low that his violin and bow
were dragging on the ground. He couldn't
believe that his father would betray him like this. He'd been chatting about this concert for
weeks at breakfast and each time his father had promised over and over again
that he would be there; that he wouldn't miss it for the world. And yet, here it was, 8:00 pm, time for the
concert to start, and his father was nowhere to be found.
“Monsieur
Josh! Mon dieu! What are you doing to your precious
instrument?” Josh's violin teacher, who
often broke into his native French when he was startled or upset, hurried over
to Josh and lifted his violin and bow off the ground and out of Josh’s hands to
inspect them for damage. Peering around the
child-sized violin, Pierre caught sight of Josh's face and halted his
inspection immediately. Putting down the
violin and bow on the chair beside him, Pierre crouched down to Josh's level,
lifted up his chin with one finger and said, “There now, my little protégé,
what on earth could be so troubling to you on this night of your glorious
debut?”
Josh
tried to muster up the courage to tell his beloved teacher that he couldn't
find his father in the audience, but all he could manage to do was fight the tremor
of his lower lip and blink back the tears that threatened to fall down his
fiercely bravado face.
Taking
a deep breath, Pierre rolled back on his heels and slowly stood, motioning Josh
to sit on the chair next to the one where his violin was lying. Pierre then picked up Josh's violin and bow,
and sat down on the seat next to him, leaning forward with his elbows on his
knees and looking thoughtful while Josh's bow and violin dangled from his
hands. They sat like this for a few
minutes, Josh deep in his own personal misery, and Pierre sitting with a
contorted look on his face, as if he, too, were deep in his own personal pain. Leaning back in the chair with a faraway look
in his eye, Pierre slowly brought the violin to his chin and raised the bow to
play. Soon the sad, moving strains of
Chausson's Poeme echoed quietly in the backstage area they occupied. Josh looked up, startled to hear music that
matched his own mood. After he had
played for a bit, Pierre put down the violin and bow and looked at Josh, who
was now staring at Pierre with a curious look on his face, wondering if perhaps
Pierre really understood more than he was letting on.
“I'd
like to tell you a story, mon amie, of a time when your Pierre was very young;
not much older than you are right now, if I remember correctly. Times were
tough in France and it was not an easy place to make a living. My father worked night and day to provide for
us, and it was not until my own debut performance that I learned just how much
he sacrificed so that I could learn the violin, my greatest dream in life. It was the night of my debut performance, the
time that I would first showcase my talents to the world, or at least to the
people of my village on our tiny little town square stage. Several other talented young children went
before me, and while they played I searched the crowd for my father. Seas of heads seemed to be standing around
the stage, but nowhere could I catch sight of my father. Certain I had just missed him, I stepped
forward when it was my turn and began to play Chausson's Poeme, the song you
just heard. I put my heart and soul into
that music and by the time I was done, there was not a dry eye amongst any of
the townspeople. Thunderous applause
rang in my ears, but all I wanted to do was find my father. The show ended, the townspeople slowly
wandered back to their homes, and I was standing there, alone on the stage,
with no one to congratulate me or tell me what a great job I had done. My mother was at home with my brothers and
sisters and my father was supposed to be there to watch me and take me home afterward. It began to get dark, so I wandered home
alone and found my mother waiting there, worried sick about me, as Father had
come home from work and I was not with him.
Sending me into the main area of the house, I found my father sitting in
his chair, looking so worn and crumpled that I could not be upset with
him. As I approached him with my violin
still in my hand, my father began to sob, telling me how much he had wanted to
see me play, but that he had been unable to get permission to leave his work
early. His foreman had told him the only
way he could leave early would be to leave permanently, and so he had to choose
between being able to hear me play or continuing to pay for my violin
lessons. He chose his own heartbreak so
that I could pursue the dream within my heart.
That night, in a private concert just for my father, I played Chausson's
Poeme with more feeling and passion than I had ever played before, and my
father's eyes were shining with pride as tears streamed unashamedly down his
face. Your father is not unlike my
father, and if for some reason he is unable to make it to your performance
tonight, I doubt it is for lack of trying or want. The long hours and hard work he puts in at
his office are all so that you, too, can pursue your dream of becoming a
concert violinist one day.”
Josh
was very pensive as he listened to Pierre's story, and his eyes opened wide at
the ending. “You really think my father
works all these extra hours just for me?”
Pierre
nodded slowly. “Indeed, mon amie,
indeed. My violin instruction does not
come cheap, and your lifestyle is not exactly lacking,” he said quietly,
pointing out Josh's high end clothing and top of the line violin. “I would not be surprised if your father put
everything he had into building a life for you and your mother, without much
left for himself but work.”
Josh
had never thought of his father's absences this way, and the more he thought
about it, the more his disappointment ebbed away, replaced with a firm desire
to go out there and make his father proud, no matter what.
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