117. The American Soprano Competition
July 25, 2008
There is almost no point in writing about this, since by tonight she will have won by default. Winning was to be my ticket out of this town, my passport to fame and fortune and world-famous conservatories. Now all I have is the private knowledge that I was the best. She will get all the glory and prize money, the world tour.
And I would have won, too. I know because I got the letter saying so.
That day I stayed home from work, because I had the flu. I had spent all night and most of the morning puking up celery and egg noodles from last night’s chicken soup, and then dry-heaving. I couldn’t even keep water down until noon. But it was uphill from there: after a glass of water stayed down for an hour, I tried grape juice and soda crackers. By afternoon, I was crunching down toast with peanut butter and feeling fine. I was still a little shaky, but the fever and the nausea had subsided. I was sure I could go to work the next day.
Around four in the afternoon, I could hear the mailman opening the squeaky mailboxes to my apartment complex. After the usual series of squeaks, I heard his shoes tromp away down the gravel path. I stepped into my slippers, which were soft fabric loafers with plastic, treaded soles. I went up to my mailbox, wondering if my letter would finally come. At this point, it was late.
I opened the mailbox for my apartment. It was completely filled by a large bundle of letters, rubber-banded, with a laser-printed receipt on the top.
HELD MAIL, it said. ANGELA LAMBIC. JULY 15TH, 2008 THROUGH AUGUST 1ST, 2008.
Held mail? I hadn’t requested a mail hold. Read the rest of this entry »
