Toscanini and the Cellist (Part II)

 

Two glasses of iced tea were on the table opposite Ella. "I knew you would want this," she said, "but I waited to order."

"Looks good." Leoni sat, putting her handbag and the shopping bag on the flagstones next to her chair. Jeff kissed Ella and took his glass and stood leaning against the wrought-iron railing between the table and the river.

"I've been looking at the stonework," Ella said, "trying to guess how old it is."

"The River Walk was a WPA project during the Depression," Leoni said. "Does it look like Venice?"

"No, no. The canals of Venice are much wider and deeper. There's the smell of rotting fish, a feeling of decay. Here everything is on a much smaller scale, but it’s fresh and light. It smells of chili and gardenias."

A dark-skinned waiter in a white shirt and black trousers came to take their order.

"Does the dress fit?" Ella said to Leoni.

"Like skin. How can I thank you?"

"I would so much like to see you in it."

Leoni looked thoughtful for a moment, then brightened. "Why don't I wear it to the opera tonight?"

"That would be splendid!"

Jeff sat on the wrought iron railing, and pigeons played at his feet. A river taxi passed, a long red barge packed with tourists. The driver, in khaki shorts and a straw hat, was speaking into a microphone. "On the right is the Casa del Rio, the oldest café on the River Walk. That imposing white giant on the left is the Palacio del Rio, the River Walk Hilton." Ella's hotel.

Their food came, and Jeff moved to a chair. "If you stay over another night, we’ll take you to the Highland Lakes between here and Austin. You'd like those lakes, Mother. The geology of Central Texas is the same as the Greek islands -- blue, blue water and white limestone banks."

Ella took a tiny bite of enchilada and blotted the corner of her mouth with her napkin.. "Are there temples? Does Texas have any pagan gods?"

"We’ve got cathedrals," Leoni said. "We’re Christians, not pagans. Our baseball team is called the San Antonio Missions."

"The mascot is a priest," Jeff said. "He says Mass at the seventh-inning stretch."

Leoni gave him a look and, out of Ella’s sight, held up one finger and mouthed, "That’s one."

"I noticed the cathedrals in the taxi yesterday. I was astonished to see one next to a gasoline station." She sipped iced tea.

"That was not a gasoline station," Jeff said. "That was a temple. Didn’t you see Pegasus, the flying red horse, on top?"

Jeff laughed. Ella smiled. Leoni held up two fingers for Jeff’s eyes only.

"Why is the river so green?" Ella said. "Is there moss on the bottom?"

"That's the dye they put in it for St. Patrick's Day," Leoni said.

"They pour 10 pounds of non-toxic dye in there and call it the River Shannon," Jeff said. "The research center tests it to make sure it's harmless. I tested it myself my rookie year there."

"Is the River Nile green?" Leoni said.

"Mud-colored." Ella wrinkled her nose.

"I hope the elephants will behave themselves tonight in the Triumphal March," Jeff said.

"Tinker Bell and Tiny Tim are used to people," Leoni said. "Tourists ride them all the time at the zoo."

"To the sound of trumpets?" Ella said.

"San Antonio is full of music year round. Fiesta this and fiesta that."

"In any case, it won't be Luxor," Ella said.

"We’ve got a picture book of the 1987 Aida production at Luxor. Jeff told me you were in the orchestra."

"Everything there is on such an enormous scale. The Nile was the back part of the stage, with the Temple of Luxor on the left and the Avenue of the Sphinx on the right. I felt that I was living out of time."

"All that and music too," Jeff said.

"Not that you were interested in the music. Your mind was on the lion."

"I was 12."

"How did they control the lion?" Leoni said.

"They said tranquilizers, but I always thought it was hypnotism. Has Jeff told you about slipping onstage and accosting the lion? I never forgave his father."

"They saved the lion from me just in time, but I touched his ear. It was soft."

"Did you stop the show?" Leoni looked at him in awe.

"It happened between the acts," Ella said. "If he had run out there during the performance, he would have had more to fear from me than from the lion."

"Placido Domingo would have swooped me up on his horse and pretended I was a little Egyptian boy."

"In a little tuxedo." She put her hand in his hair. "I can't think what you're doing down here. You could do medical research in New York or Boston. You're turning into a redneck."

"He's blond.. He would be a redneck in the Greek islands."

Jeff gave Leoni a look and she looked straight back at him. Out on the river, a waitress was setting a long table on a yellow barge. She spread the table with a red cloth and laid places for 12 in front of brown folding chairs.

"Do stay another night," Jeff said to Ella. "We can have dinner on a barge like that one and float down the river through all kinds of music. You’ll hear ‘The Music of the Night�?coming from the piano bar in Howl at the Moon, while the Dixieland band at the Landing fights back with ‘When the Saints Go Marching In.�?

"Thank you, darling, but I can’t. I have a rehearsal in New York."

"Do you want to hear the story about Toscanini and the cellist at rehearsal?" Leoni said.

Ella raised her eyebrows. "Yes indeed."

Jeff slid his chair back and it rattled on the paving stones. "Anybody want dessert?" He stood up to signal a waiter and behind Ella’s back he shook his head at Leoni and made a lip-zipping signal.

"Toscanini was rehearsing the orchestra and in one of the cello solo passages, the cellist was going squeak, squawk ..."

Ella chuckled and took a delicate bite of enchilada. Jeff dropped his hand and perched on the rail next to his chair.

"What were they rehearsing?" he said.

"I don’t know. Brahms�?Third. Anyway, Toscanini took the bow and showed the cellist how to stroke the strings, and they started again. And again when the cellist came in, she went squeak, squawk ..."

"Which movement?" Jeff said.

A pigeon lit on top of the rail, and two others flirted on the bottom rail. With a little shove, one of the pigeons on the rail pushed the other into the water, and it made a tiny splash.

"The second movement. Toscanini took the bow again and showed her how to stroke the strings. But when they started again ..."

"There is no cello solo passage in the second movement of Brahms' Third."

"Please, Jeff, I want to hear this." Ice tinkled in Ella’s voice as she drained her glass.

"She always bungles the punchline," he muttered.

"When she went squeak, squawk the third time," Leoni said, "Toscanini flew into a rage. He said, ‘Young woman, between your legs you have an instrument that could give pleasure to thousands, and you sit there and scratch it!�?"

Ella’s face flamed and she gave a mild yelp, which she covered with a polite laugh.

Jeff was looking at a pigeon that had perched next to his hand on the railing.

"Speaking of rehearsal," Ella said in a high-pitched voice, "I’m about to be late for one. No, no, finish your lunch. I'll just go along the walk to my hotel."

They watched her walk away.

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