�If I fucking wanted to play the Meditation I would have fucking asked to!� He hisses through clenched teeth. �From now on you keep your goddamned��
�May I ask what is going on here?� Mother appears at the door instantly surveying the damage and the positions of everyone in the room�
Allen takes a few deep breaths and then backs away from Meisinger who looks as though he has just escaped being eaten by a wild animal.
�Nothing mother, I�m sorry. Just a moment of clumsiness.� Almost on cue, a maid comes in, curtsies and begins cleaning up the mess.
Mother pauses to see if any further explanations will be offered. When none are forthcoming she crosses to the sideboard and prepares herself a cup of tea. �Very well then.� She says as she takes a seat at the table. �I can only assume that Dietrich has told you the delightful news.�
We all freeze except for the oblivious maid who continues cleaning.
Mother ties her cascade of fiery auburn hair back with a ribbon as she speaks and waits for her tea to steep. �Allen, I apologize for not being the one to tell you but it went from being just an idea to being all settled within a matter of hours. I wanted to tell you last night but Nanny informed me you had gone to have a late supper. I tried to wait up for you but I was just too exhausted from last nights rehearsal.�
Allen says nothing, but I can tell that the necessity to be civil is making him even angrier if that�s at all possible.
Mother drains her teabag around her teaspoon as she continues. �We have a press conference here in less than an hour Allen. You need to finish your breakfast and then we need to dress. You have your lesson with Maestro Pagano after lunch and then you have an orchestra rehearsal at the theater. We have an early dinner scheduled together then dress rehearsal�
She stops in mid sentence when she finally looks at Allen and notices the tears running down his face.
�Oh Allen, what is it dear?�
He turns and looks directly at her. �You don�t understand at all do you mother?
It is mother�s turn to look hurt.
�What exactly do I not understand Allen?�
�I don�t want this.� He replies quietly waiting for a reaction. �I don�t want to play the violin anymore mother. How many different ways can I say it so that you�ll believe me? I don�t want to have to get up in front of a crowd of people night after night and worry about my tone, or my pitch, or my fingering, or my phrasing or any of the countless things that can go awry during a performance. What I don�t want is the responsibility of having to be as good as the two of you.�
�Allen, you are every bit as talented as anyone in this family. I know you don�t think��
�Mother, just because the violin turned out to be the one thing I was best at does not mean that my best is good enough. Please respect me enough not to force me into a position where I may risk associating my name and the word �mediocre� in the minds of the public forever. I don�t want that mother.�
�Allen you are anything but mediocre��
�Your saying it does NOT make it true!�
Mother rises instantly and slapped Allen so hard a bright red imprint of her hand is instantly formed on his face.
