Raj stood to offer assistance, but I waved him away.
"I'm fine", I said.
"I'm in control", I told myself.
Raj sat back down still staring at me.
"You are quite a letter writer", he said.
I guess it was a compliment.
In the hospital, as my recuperation progressed and I began composing song after song.
I had planned to write only one letter to him, telling him that I admired him and hope I could audition for him someday.
But then one letter gave rise to another and by June, I was writing him nearly every week, letters from deep inside my heart to a person I had never met.
Weird, I know, but that was what I had done, I sure couldn't take the letters back now.
He didn't answer any of them and I wasn't even sure he read them I only knew they were never returned unopened.
I continued to write the letters. The letters kept me going.
Talking to somebody even if the person didn't talk back.
I think writing the letters helped me recover. I gradually got stronger began to believe that one day I will be alright again.
I knew Alicia would be okay, or at least as okay as you can be if at age three you have witnessed horrible mayhem in your own house.
Her Nanny, Mrs. Vivinne was taking good care of her, she was such a nice woman.
The hospital let Alicia visit as often as they can bring her.
She was fascinated by my wheelchair and the electric bed, and she would thrill me whenever she hugged me and pleaded.
"Sing me a song, Mommy, No, make-up a new song and sing it.", she would say
I sang to Alicia often. I sang for both of us I wrote a new song each day.
Then, an amazing thing happened, a miracle, a letter arrived for me at the hospital.
Dear Amanda, the letter said.
"Okay, okay, you win I have no idea why I'm answering you but I guess I am an easy mark, even though I don't think so, and if you tell anybody else that will be it for us forever.
Your letters moved me.
I get lots of mail, most of which my secretary throws away without showing it to me, and the letter she does give me I threw away.
But you, you are different you remind me that there are real people out there, not just psycho fans wanting to get into my studio.
I feel I've come to know you a little bit and that says a lot about what you have written so far.
I was impressed with some of the lyrics you sent me. Amateur stuff, you need a songwriting education but powerful all the same because they say something.
None of this means that the education will do you any good or you can write music for a living but I will give you the half-hour of my time you asked for "to find out once and for all if I have got the talent for some writing or not".
When you get out of the hospital call Liam Geoffrey, my secretary to set up an appointment.of
But in the meantime, please don't write me any more letters you have taken enough of my time already.
Don't write to me, write more songs!"
He signed the letter "Raj", and now here I was and he was looking at me, and I felt hopelessly out of place, one of those psycho fans he grumbled about.
I haven't overdressed that wasn't my style. I had on a black peasant blouse pink camisole a long black skirt and flat shoes.
At least, I was here, I was going for it.
I was trying so hard not to have any negative thoughts but things like this, really good things never happen to people like me.
They just don't.
"Do you sing your songs or do you just write them?", he asked.
"I sing them too or at least I hope you call it singing", I replied.
"Stop apologizing, Amanda. You don't have to apologize for anything.", I told myself.
"Ever performed professionally?", he asked.
"I did some backup singing in clubs but my husband didn't like it when I did", I said.
"He didn't like much, did he?", he asked.
"He thought I was exposing myself, couldn't stand other men looking at me", I replied
So I shot him three times!
"Will you be willing to try it now? Sing in public?"
"You could do that right?", he asked.
My heart raced at the thought.
"Yes I could", it seemed the right thing to answer.
"Good", he stood up and took a little walk around his office.
"Your test is in private. Did you bring anything?"
I picked up my handbag.
"Lots. Do you want o to hear ballads? Blues?", I asked.
"No Amanda. Just, one. This is an audition, not a gig.", Raj replied.
One song, I thought, my heart sank.
I had no idea which song to pick.
One song? I have got at least two dozen and now I stood confused as though, I was standing naked in front of him.
You have sung this song a thousand times before.
"Go on.", he said looking at his watch.
"Please Amanda.", he added.
It looked like he was losing patience.
I sucked in a deep breath and sat down at the piano, from the seat I could see a beautiful garden through his window.
"You're here, you're auditioning for Raj Empire, come on now, knock his socks off. You can do it.", I told myself.
"This is a song called 'Woman in the Space'. It's about a woman who works night cleaning buildings in a small townhouse.
She always sees the moon from the resetting window while she works. What she dreams about all night in the office she cleans.", I said.
I looked over at Raj. Jesus! I was in his office. I was the 'Woman in the Space'.
He was sitting back, feet on the bottom drawer of his desk, fingers steepled together, eyes closed.
He didn't say a word.
Musically, 'Woman in the Space' was like Raj's own 'Time Of Our Lives.
I began to play, to sing in a soft uncertain voice that suddenly seemed dreary and ordinary to me.
I finished. Silence.
I finally dared to look at him he hadn't changed position hadn't moved.
Finally, he said thank you.
I waited, nothing more came from Raj.
I put the music back in my handbag.
"Any criticism?", I asked, threading his answer, but wanting to hear something more than "thank you".
"How can I criticize my child? It's my music", he said
"My voice, imitated by yours. I'm not interested."
My face reddened.
I felt humiliated but also angry.
"I thought maybe you'd be pleased. I wrote it in Honour of you"
I wanted to run out of the room but I forced myself to stay.
"Okay, I'm honored, but I thought you were here to play your songs. If I want echoes, I will sing in the subway tunnel."
"Are all your songs like mine?", he asked.
"You mean do I have something more original?", I asked knowing exactly that was what he meant.
"Originality is what I'm looking for. Originality is a start.", he replied.
I began looking through my sheet music. My fingers felt numb and unsure.
A full marching band was stomping around inside my head.
"Will you listen to one more?", I asked.
He stood up he was shaking his head trying to stop me from going on.
"I do have one. Many. my own, not yours", I said.
I promised myself I wouldn't be embarrassed.
"Since you are here, one more song, one song Amanda"
I plucked out "Flower Blue".
It was a little like an old Carole King hit. Not original enough.
The noise inside my brain had become roar like the sound of an approaching subway train.
I felt as though I was about to be run over.
I stuffed 'Flower Blue' back in my handbag and chose another song- 'Fall from Grace'.
Yes, this was a better choice I had written it recently since I had come to England.
One song.
I could feel right eyes on me feeling his growing impatience.
I didn't look at him.
The song was about my marriage to Andrew. It was deeply personal, the initial ecstasy of the love I have felt or thought that I did.
Then, the mountain terror of that first fall from grace and never been able to stop falling.
One song.
I turned on the piano, took deep breaths, and began to play.
I sang very softly at first, then with mounting passion as the song gripped me, I remembered exactly what had inspired it.
I could sense something new in the room as I sang, an understanding I had long for in my letters, a bond between me and the man sitting silently at the other side of the room.
I finished and waited for what seemed like forever for him to say something.
Finally, I turned around.
His eyes were closed it looked as though he had a headache.
Raj opens his eyes.
"You shouldn't rhyme 'time' with 'mine' ", he said.
"It's a false rhyme and why you might get away with it in the country song, it's distracting while trying something serious."
I began to cry.
I couldn't help it. It was the last thing in the universe I wanted to do.
"Hey", he said, but I was heading for the door I almost had to run.
"Stop crying, hold on a minute"
I turned to him.
"I'm sorry I took up so much of your precious valuable time. If all you can talk about is one lousy rhyme when I have just sung my heart out then there's no way we can work together. Don't worry I won't bother you again."
I rushed out of the door past and astonished Liam and took the fancy elevator to the lobby.
Screw him. Screw Mr. Raj!
I was tough enough to deal with it. I had to be.
I had a little girl to take care of, not to mention myself to look out for.
I had written to a half dozen music companies besides Raj Empire from the hospital.
Tomorrow, I will see one of the others, then another. And another after that if I had to.
Somebody was going to like my music my songs.
They were too good, too true for someone to listen and not feel something.
It's your loss, Raj Singh, Mr. My-Time-Is-So-Precious!
You lost!
You missed out on Amanda Powers!