Capriccio 1, 2, 3

By Antonia Frank

It is a fairy tale, or rather, three tales. Always the same two people interacting. Always loving, that’s the constant. How do they manage with different characteristics? They became very real as I developed them and took on a direction of their own. I fell in love with them. Hope that the reader does as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fulton Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jan 23, 2020
• ISBN: 9781633388673

Book preview

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Capriccio 1, 2, 3

Antonia Frank

Copyright © 2019 Antonia Frank

All rights reserved

First Edition

Fulton Books, Inc.

Meadville, PA

First originally published by Fulton Books 2019

ISBN 978-1-63338-866-6 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-63338-867-3 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Capriccio 1

Capriccio 2

Capriccio 3

To my nonna, who taught me by example what a good story should be. To Kelly, who encouraged me at every step when I would have ceased and retreated.

Capriccio 1

Another concert about to begin. Thousands in their seats anticipating the maestro’s entrance. He is loved by them. Each wants a part of him. His time, his talent, his love. He is, by nature, shy but cannot show it. He thinks of his arrested childhood. No friends to interact and grow with. No choices of games or clothing or studies. He is a prisoner of his talent. Once discovered, it became his cell. His schedule is set for him years in advance. His socialization nonexistent. He remains a docile child, until he escapes into his music. Then he is free.

His heart races as he dreads the concerts, the people clamoring, but he loves his music, and this is the path to that.

His assistant searches the crowd for the young woman who will be his focus for one small song. The audience will cheer and all the young women will wish they were her. This part he finds so difficult to perform. Sex sells, they tell him. He is a boy in a man’s body, he thinks. They don’t know how frightened I am. He is always asked for approval of the choice and he rarely cares, then he sees her from the outer stage where he waits and looks.

She is elegant, tall and carries herself with an air of self-assurance, accepting the aid of the attendants who show her to her seat. She is accustomed to servants, he assumes. She knows the rules of servitude and noblesse. He likes that. Is she the cold princess of Turandot?

I want her! He chooses.

His manager says, Too old. She must be here with her children.

No, he replies softly. She’s here to see me and is alone.

He begins the performance and the crowd goes wild. It is a spectacle and overwhelms the senses. He is lost in his music until the time of the solo for her is at hand. The manager goes to her seat to select her. She shakes her head No.

The manager explains that the cameras are already on her and the maestro on stage waiting. Please don’t harm his image by refusing.

He looks on and wonders will she come to him? Yes. There was a long pause, but yes. His heart races yet higher, stronger. He can’t breathe. Puts on the plastic smile which hides him. The masks of medieval times. Beautiful and empty.

She is escorted up the stairs onto the stage. She is very well-dressed, and he feels under so by comparison. He fidgets as she approaches. She looks into his eyes, not blinking. Strong and daring. He shows her to a tall seat, and she declines, refusing to be displayed on a perch. She prefers to stand next to him. He acquiesces, what else can he do on stage?

He begins the wooing of her with his music as she defies him with her eyes, her posture. Her hands are now on his thighs as he stands behind her. She is supposed to swoon in this act, but he is the one whose knees are now shaking. She looks back at him and he is lost.

When the piece is done, the audience goes crazy with enthusiasm as he leans in for the usual peck on the cheek. But she steps back and offers her hand. He kisses the back of it like an old courtier and inhales the scent of gardenias, the Fracas perfume intoxicating him. He watches her leave him and the stage. He commands the manager to bring her to him after the conclusion, no excuses.

He is in his dressing room reliving the song he performed for her. Thank you for Loving Me by Bon Jovi. He has done it a hundred times, but tonight he willed it so.

He is sweaty from his exertion of a two-hour show. He changes his knit shirt and reties his long mane which has become undone. The door knock alerts him to her entrance which happens in one fluid motion. He is frozen in front of her. She disarms him. Does she even know it? Yes.

He acts the Maestro to regain his position. She stares into his eyes as she had before, and he surrenders again.

Come and have dinner with me, he pleads. "I’m starved!

The concert ends late, and no restaurants are open. He is famished as he does not eat much before a performance and has burned calories galore. She can never eat when she is tense but agrees to join him out of—? Curiosity? Generosity? The only option is room service of his hotel as it is open twenty-four hours. She recalls having to do this at the Waldorf in Jerusalem, so no alarm bells of warning go off. He has a suite and convinces her that it’s all right. She is safe with him.

I’ve traveled the world, she thinks. What is there to be apprehensive about? I’m not a child and I can leave when I wish.

So she follows. The Romantik Hotel D’Europe. How appropriate, she muses.

He trembles at the thought that she is coming to his rooms so easily. They are alone in the lift and he would so like to kiss her now, but he is carrying the large case for his violin and his hands are full. The quiet is shattering! Heartbeats are deafening.

The table is set in the living room overlooking the lake. So picturesque even at dead of night. He offers her wine and she gladly accepts. Needs to calm down. He pours himself a full glass as well, thinking he needs to calm his nerves.