INTERLUDE (XIV)

  A Mother’s Love

  “Which one’s yours?”

  This from the rather petite looking woman daintily perched on the edge of her seat. In the background, a quiet murmur could be heard. While, from the orchestra pit, came the fine tuning of instruments. The sounds traveling strangely in the vast and opulent, red-gold amphitheater.

  Eager for the opportunity to gush, Gloria turned to regard her neighbor, a delighted smile already tugging at the corners of her wine stained lips.

  In her early thirties, the slight woman was clearly from across the pond. If her posh and refined accent wasn’t a dead enough giveaway, she wore her hair in a sleek bob, an elegantly cut cream dress hugging her slim figure, while a pillbox hat rested atop her head at a fashionably tilted angle. Pearl necklace and matching earrings accented the woman’s high cheekbones and radiant smile.

  Turning back to the stage, Gloria raised her opera glasses and glanced down at the diminutive ballet dancers from the high vantage afforded her by their box seating. Spurring the other woman to do the same.

  “The little blonde one out front and center,” she pointed. “With her hair done up in the French twist? I swear that girl can be such a taskmaster. Runs the entire household ragged. Had her poor nanny redo the thing four or five times before she was satisfied.”

  “Doesn’t do things by half measures, does she?”

  “You do not know the half of it. She’ll take over the world one of these days, mark my words.”

  “Oh I believe it. She certainly has that look about her. The way she glares out at the audience? Oh my darling Anne could never.”

  “And which one is that?”

  “The brunette in the far corner? The one doing her utmost to stay as far away from the spotlight as possible.”

  “Aww. How precious. Want to switch?”

  “Well, that depends, would I even last the week?”

  “Ha! Rest assured you wouldn’t even last the day. The experience would change you in ways you cannot even imagine.”

  “I think I’ll pass then. I’ve had enough revelations in moving to this country to last a full lifetime.”

  The two shared a laugh at the disparity between the two girls. They then locked eyes, and, much to her surprise, the smaller woman stuck out her hand in greeting.

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  “I’m Jane,” the woman announced.

  “Gloria,” she replied, reaching out to clasp Jane’s much smaller hand in hers.

  “You know? Call me crazy, but for whatever reason I feel as if we’re going to be fast friends.”

  Gloria barked out a laugh.

  “Ha! Well, I hope you don’t mind if I take you up on that offer. I find the crazies are the only ones I can halfway tolerate.”

  “Oh!” the woman chortled. “Yes. Yes I think I could say much the same. If you’re not at least a tad bit off your rocker, well, more than likely you’re just a bore.”

  This time, when they shared a laugh, Gloria could feel the disapproving eyes of those closest to them swivel in their direction. Gloria paid them no mind, and, neither did Jane.

  “Fast friends,” Gloria repeated, after they’d both regained their composure. “You know what? I think I like the sound of that.”

  Jane beamed. Then she startled.

  “Oh! I nearly forgot to ask. Your daughter. What’s her name?”

  “No worries. Actually, we named her after my mother. My husband still thinks it was a close thing, but, in the end, we decided that Denise was the clear choice for our little girl.”

  +++

  Years passed, and the two mothers did indeed become fast friends. They grew close in that time. Finding in one another a shoulder in which to cry on. A sympathetic ear in which to vent. And a self appointed soundboard upon which they might sing their daughters’ many praises. And while Jane’s little Anne was no less impressive in terms of achievements, a very distinct pattern seemed to develop with time. In which Gloria primarily spoke, and Jane primarily listened.

  “I’m not lying! My little Denise was talking in full sentences at only a few months old. And walking before she was even a year out the womb. Scared the pants off of our newly appointed staff, let me tell you. Poor Roger—the household manager I was talking to you about?—nearly had a heart attack.”

  “Well, yes of course she excels. Really, it’s only to be expected. When you’re paying for the best tutors money can buy, it would be absurd to expect anything less.”

  “Hmm? No, she was born to ride. That part isn’t the issue. Anyone with eyes could tell you as much. Its how attached she’s become that gives me pause. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve regretted sending her off to that blasted retreat. I swear, these days she spends more time with that horse, than she does her parents!”

  “And do you know what they told me? They said she was on track for a tennis scholarship so long as she maintained her average. Not that I’m surprised, mind you, my girl is a prodigy. I turned them down of course. Leave those opportunities for the one’s who really need them. Besides, a state school is not exactly what we had in mind for her future.”

  “To hear her tell it, you’d think it’d been written in stone. That girl… you might’ve thought she’d be excited to get into her first-choice school, but, it actually couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  “Do you want to know what she told me, before even opening the letter from Yale? ‘And you’re sure daddy made the right reservation this time? It’s meant to be a celebration, not an unmitigated disaster. Just so you know? If tonight ends up being a repeat of my 18th birthday, I’m immediately filing for emancipation.’ I mean, the nerve on that girl.”

  “He really is such a thoughtful young man. Handsome, well spoken, and nearly as driven as she is. Word through the grapevine is, he’ll be a senator by the time he’s thirty.”

  All of this painting a pretty clear picture. Of a young girl turned young woman, who led a life devoid of difficulties. Born into wealth and privilege, with enough of a head on her shoulders to take full advantage of that, neither she, nor her mother, could remember a time in which any goal she set herself wasn’t achieved in short order.

  Least of all the last time she’d failed.