Read Online The Metropolis by Matthew Gallaway - Free Book Online Page B

her exasperated with the failure of the other actors—again, Gina and Bea—to master even a single note, but then on Saturday afternoons they held performances, with audiences comprising the same blocks and dolls—once again fleeced for tickets, although a few lucky ones were called upon to appear as supernumeraries—and John, who could be counted on to attend as long as curtain times were scheduled between innings of the game. Some of the more memorable productions included “Maria Grows Shorter,” “Maria Adopts a Baby,” “Suzy Polomski Gets Hit by the Bus,” “The Slaughter of the Innocents,” “Bérénice in Purgatory,” “Felix the Procurator and His Wife, Drusilla,” and “Maria Leaves Pittsburgh for a Vacation in St. Louis,” a somewhat controversial show because of last-minute changes imposed by censors alarmed by the original concept, “Maria Leaves Pittsburgh Forever.”
    M ARIA’S MUSICAL TALENT never attracted attention at St. Anne’s because the subject was taught by a well-intentioned but tone-deaf nun who played the same six records over and over while the children followed along with a book. At home, Maria sang constantly, not just in the musicals but alone to accompany her imaginary wanderings with the saints and martyrs. In her room, the world dropped away and was illuminated by shafts of gossamer light; more rarely, it would all go dark and she would be left shivering and fearful, though of nothing she could identify or explain. Then in seventh grade, hope arrived in the form of a new music teacher named Sister Mary Michael, a relatively young and pleasant-looking recruit. For the first few days of school, Maria admired the new sister from afar and looked forward to impressing her with a song. She had listened to enough children—and worse, adults—to know that most were miles away from the notes, even when singing simple melodies. But on thefirst day of music class, Maria discovered that Sister Mary Michael, despite her cheerful demeanor, was as tone-deaf as anyone she had ever heard, except even worse because unlike more modest souls, the sister seemed to have no idea how far off she was. She began the class by butchering one of Maria’s favorite hymns, “Tell Us Now, O Death,” in a monotone so flat and cavernous it almost knocked the wind out of Maria.
    It occurred to Maria that she might impress the nun by offering to sing it herself, so that her teacher could perhaps hear the difference. The sister took this suggestion in exactly the wrong way: “Are you saying something’s wrong with my singing?”
    “No, Sister.” Maria shook her head, regretting that she had ventured to raise her hand. “It’s just that—” Maria stopped, knowing she was trapped.
    “Please … continue.”
    “I—I don’t know.”
    Sister Mary Michael’s smile froze on her face and she extracted a ruler from her sleeve with a deft agility that left the other children gasping in fear and delight at the anticipated flogging of Morticia. The nun shushed them before she addressed Maria: “Perhaps you’re right—you
should
demonstrate how it’s done.”
    Maria felt tears running down her face, but it was too late to back down.
    “Come up to the front of the class, where everyone can see you.”
    As Maria sang, she was not at St. Anne’s in Castle Shannon but in a small village in the mountains of Europe, where she saw Saint Agnes of Bohemia leaving the convent on her way to tend the lepers. In response to this devotion, Maria filled her song with hope and purity; Saint Agnes in turn nodded at Maria before she went into the hospital, a gesture of reassurance that gave Maria the strength to finish the song—“Deadly whisper in my ear, finally my time has come”—witha quiet insistence entirely appropriate for this small but significant performance.
    Maria opened her eyes to find Sister Mary Michael scowling at her, obviously less touched than Saint Agnes of Bohemia. “Thank you, Maria,”