Part 14 (2/2)
”No! Not Wagner,” I said. ”I refuse to play Richard Wagner's works. Hitler idolized him for his relations.h.i.+p with Nietzsche and for his anti-Semitic beliefs. I won't play Wagner.”
”Of course. My apologies,” quelled Ada. ”Well, could you play any Tchaikovsky? I just love Russian composers. Oh, the angst of the Russians!”
”No.”
”Italians? Rossini's 'William Tell Overture?' Vivaldi? Scaflatti? Oh, the pa.s.sion of the Italians!”
I shook my head.
”Any French? Claude Debussy? Chopin?” Her voice trailed off.
”No. Definitely not Chopin. He was Polish. Poland was one of the first countries. .h.i.tler took over. Hitler only allowed the study of German composers in University. Well, except for Mozart. He was Austrian, but Hitler quickly adopted Mozart after he invaded Austria in the Anschluss.”
”How barbaric! Well my love, we simply must do something about that.”
I wasn't quite sure what she meant by that until she started making comments such as: ”You know, darling Lulu, Phoenix would be a far more stimulating place for you. Culturally speaking, I mean.” Or ”Really, Bobby, talent such as Lulu's mustn't be wasted here in Copper Springs. Not that there's anything wrong with such an adorable little village. But I have so many connections in Phoenix!” Or ”think of how we could develop her, my sweet Marty Girl!”
The truth was that I had the talent but not the ambition for the concert stage. Not after the war began. The war had changed everything for me.
Ada asked me outright one day if I'd like to come live in Phoenix with her.
”Thank you so much,” I declined, ”but I am planning to return to Germany quite soon.” And I was. I was feeling encouraged about a.s.sured Allied victory after Italy's surrender and Mussollini's arrest just a short while ago.
It was apparent Ada was starting to grate on Miss Gordon. I heard her complain to Robert in the morning before Ada woke up, but I had lost my usual eavesdropping capability because Ada had taken over my room and, in it, my radiator pipe.
As I came downstairs one morning, I overheard Miss Gordon grumbling, ”and in her book, there's nothing right about Copper Springs. It's Phoenix this or Phoenix that.” Then she must have heard my footsteps coming down the stairs, and the subject was promptly dropped.
Another time, I was even more astounded as I listened, furtively, to her rant and rave to Robert. ”And so poor Dog has been stuck outside all week just so that vicious little cat can have the run of the place and ruin the furniture!”
Since when had Miss Gordon felt any concern for Dog's feelings?
I was starting to see a new side of Miss Gordon, one that gave me the slightest trace of tenderness toward her. I could see how she had grown up in the shadow of Ada, always being outdone by her flamboyance, her social status, her matrimonial state.
Ada was larger than life. And now, for the first time, I think Martha Gordon had something or someone in her life that cousin Ada envied. And wanted. Me.
I spent the rest of Ada's visit basking in my new status as favorite houseguest. Thanks to Ada, I had been elevated from a mere annoyance to an annoyance with some potential. I was sorry to see the week come to an end. Until, that is, the very last night. After that, I was more than ready to say goodbye to Ada. In fact, I would've carried her all the way to Phoenix myself, given the opportunity.
Miss Gordon had gone to bed, as had William, and Robert had left for a meeting with the church elders. I was getting ready to go upstairs myself when Ada called to me from the kitchen, ”Lulu, darling, come join me for a little entertainment. Let's have a little card game before I leave town tomorrow.”
I sat down at the table with her. Next to her was a tall bottle of clear liquid and two small jelly gla.s.ses. ”I've never played cards before, Ada.”
”Never played cards?! Oh Lulu, darling, we have some catching up to do. Don't you worry. I've always wanted a protege. I'm going to teach you an easy little game called Blackjack.”
We played a few hands as I caught on to the concept.
”Sharp as a tack, that's my Lulu girl!” she enthused. ”Let's make it a little more fun. My Teddy loved this game.” She poured the gla.s.ses with an inch of the clear liquid from the bottle. ”So whenever we reach twenty-one, we drink!”
As soon as her cards added up to twenty-one, she yelled, ”down the hatch!” and swallowed her drink in one gulp.
I followed her example. As the clear liquid reached the back of my throat, the stinging began. It felt as if I had bees in my throat. ”What is this?” I asked, coughing violently.
”Ouzo! It's Greek. One of the last bottles of Teddy's special collection before he died.” She brushed away a tear from the corner of her eye. ”He would've been crazy for you, Lulu. You're the daughter we've always wanted. And you would've loved my Teddy, too. The Greeks know how to enjoy life like no one else.”
I didn't want to be rude but this Ouzo tasted like petrol. She didn't seem to notice my grimacing face as she refilled the gla.s.ses. Just one more hand of cards, I warned myself. I didn't want to hurt Ada's feelings, especially as she was so fond of me, but I had no intention to drink petrol all night. Another hand of cards went quickly, and Ada bellowed ”Bottoms up!” and gulped down her Ouzo.
Again, I followed her example to be polite and looked for an opportunity to excuse myself and go to bed. Ada had other ideas. No sooner was my gla.s.s back on the table, but it was re-filled. I was starting to get warm. Hot, actually.
”Lulu, sweetness, I would love it if you would come to Phoenix this summer and play the piano for my bridge parties.”
What did she just say? My thoughts felt fuzzy. Did she say something about bridges?
”So what would you say if we put a little wager on the next game? If I win, you come and play for my bridge parties this summer. If you lose, you come and play for my bridge parties.”
”Pardon, Ada? Would you mind repeating that?”
”If I win, you come and play for my bridge parties this summer. If you lose, then you come and play for my bridge parties,” she patiently repeated. I nodded, not really concentrating, distracted by the queasy pit in my stomach from the Ouzo.
I wasn't sure how much time pa.s.sed before Robert came in through the kitchen door. For an eternity, he just stared at us, eyes wide open, jaw dropped in horror. ”Oh, cousin Ada! No! You didn't! You couldn't have! Louisa, how much have you had?” He picked up at the half-empty bottle of Ouzo and glowered at Ada.
I stood up. The room started spinning. ”It's not her fault, Robert,” I tried to say, but suddenly I had to run upstairs to the bathroom. Fast.
The next morning, I woke up after hearing a persistent knocking at the door. Robert came in, holding a gla.s.s that looked like tomato juice in it. ”William came downstairs and told me you're dead.” He handed me the drink. ”I said I would come up to check and see if you're a goner.”
”Close,” I said feebly, ”but not quite.”
”Drink this,” he said. ”And take these.” He handed me two aspirin.
”Oh no, Robert, I can't possibly drink that. Or anything else. Ever again.”
”Trust me. It will make you feel better.”
I took a sip, nearly gagging. My tongue felt thick.
”Keep drinking.”
I took a few more sips and grimaced. ”What is this?”
”You don't want to know. But I promise you'll feel better if you can drink the entire thing.”
”I recall your cousin telling me the same thing last night.” I dropped my head back on the pillow.
He laughed. ”How much did she take you for?”
I opened one eye. ”What do you mean?”
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