Writing for Fun
May 2018
Definitely . . . Maybe - Diane Silverston
'Of course I'll come.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes, definitely. I'd love to come. Make sure you get me a ticket. See, I have written it down in my diary.'
Sandra was so pleased. She could hardly believe it. At last he was going to come. He'd be there. So often before she had asked him, and he always had another commitment but this time he'd be there.
All her life she had wanted him to show he was pleased with her, proud of her achievements. She had worked so hard at everything, always pushing herself, sometimes beyond her real capabilities, just to show him. Things always seemed to come to him so easily, without any effort. Now he would see she could succeed, she could make something of her life.
'Now remember, get me a ticket and send it to me. I won't be down this way again for some months but I've got the date written down. I'll definitely be there.' He spoke as he was putting on his coat and collecting his things. Too soon he was gone and the door was shut behind him.
The next morning when her mother arrived Sandra told her the news.
'He said he would definitely come.'
'Yes dear, I'm sure this time he will try but remember how busy he is.'
'He told me to get him a ticket. He wrote it in his diary.'
'Well, I'm really pleased for you. I know it will help you.'
A few weeks later, the rehearsals were going well, costumes organized, and the programmes printed. Sandra arranged for two tickets and reserved seats, one for her Mother and one to send off to him.
She didn't hear back and there was no reply when she phoned but that was quite usual. He was always so busy. He would come this time, he had been so definite about it.
Months passed. Tickets were selling rapidly. Sandra was confident that the programme was going to work and she was ready to play her part.
Still no word or phone call, maybe he was away working. She had written and left messages reminding him.
The day arrived. Sandra was feeling nervous, she so wanted to do extra well. She had practiced so hard. She was determined that she would make him proud of her, prove herself able. The tension was beginning to play on her mind. Her mother tried to help, she had always given Sandra as much support as she could, but it wasn't enough. Sandra wanted his approval.
The evening came. Sandra looked her best, her new dress shimmered, her hair had been especially done. She peeped through the curtains, the hall was filling up. Her mother was there sitting in the front row, next to . . . an empty seat. Maybe he was still in the foyer, maybe he was running late. He said he would come. He couldn't let her down again, surely?
The lights dimmed. Sandra took a deep breath, pulled herself together. This was her moment, she was going to make the most of it, fulfil her dreams, no matter what.
As the curtains opened there she was, looking radiant, seated in her wheelchair. She placed her violin carefully, held her bow ready and started to play.
Sandra could hear the notes filling the hall, her fingers working their magic.
When she finished there was a silent pause, the rapturous applause. It didn't matter she was in a wheelchair, unable to walk, she had succeeded to play faultlessly.
Sandra knew she had found her true vocation. She definitely was going to be a musician. She could see her mother clapping and crying. Sandra realised at that moment, maybe she didn't need his approval, she had her mother's. Maybe she didn't need a father to be proud of her. Her mother definitely was.