Cutler 02 - Secrets of the Morning

heat from the people who closed in around him.
    "Yes. I wasn't sure whether I was supposed to meet you in the lobby so . . ."
    "This, ladies and gentlemen," he declared, turning to the people who stood closest to us, "is one of my new pupils."
    "Oh, that's right, Michael," the redheaded woman said, laughing, "I forgot you are to be a teacher, too, this year." She whispered something in his ear and he laughed loudly. Then he turned back to me.
    "Did you get something to eat, a glass of wine?"
    "Yes," I said, holding up my glass.
    "Good. Well enjoy yourself. We'll talk about this when we have our first private lesson," he said and patted me on the hand. I waited with baited breath for him to say more, but he returned his attention to the people around him.
    I stood there dumbly, wondering what else I was to say or do. After a moment his friends and the redheaded woman led him off toward another gathering of people and I was left standing alone.
    Michael hadn't even really introduced me to anyone; he hadn't told anyone my name. I looked around. Could everyone see my embarrassment? Everywhere I turned, eyes were on me. How foolish I must appear standing by myself with a glass of wine in my hand waiting for someone to say something to me, I thought. I saw a man lean over and whisper to the woman beside him, who laughed loudly at whatever he'd said. They were surely laughing at me. My heart felt right up against my throat and I broke out in a cold sweat.
    I wanted to run out of the room, but I knew that would only draw more attention to me. Slowly, with my head bowed, I made my way toward the door. When I finally found myself in the lobby, I lifted my head and felt the tears stinging behind my eyes. Afraid someone would see me in tears, I charged out the entrance of the museum and hurried to the street. Once there, I took deep gasps. I was a tight wire inside, stretched so taut I thought I might break and cry hysterically.
    Without realizing what I was doing or where I was going, I turned left and began to walk. I don't know how far I walked or what directions I took, for I turned wherever there was a green light. Finally, I stopped and looked around and realized I was lost. But what frightened and shocked me even more was the realization that I had left the museum carrying my wine glass. What if someone had seen me leave and thought I had stolen it? If I was described to the woman who had been seated at the desk at the door to the recital hall, she would know who I was and tell Michael Sutton.
    I could hear her saying it: "Your prize pupil stole a wine glass and went rushing out."
    I turned about desperately, looking for a place to throw it. Suddenly, I heard someone say, "Hi, honey. Slumming tonight?"
    I spun around to face a man with an unshaven face with eyes that looked more like empty sockets. When he smiled, he revealed a mouth missing many teeth. I could smell his whiskey breath. He looked like he had slept in his faded brown rain coat and creased pants. His sneakers were torn at the sides.
    When he laughed, I pivoted as quickly as I could and ran as fast as I could in my high-heeled shoes. Agnes's white shawl flew off my shoulders, but I didn't stop to retrieve it because I heard the horrid man shout. Just as I reached a corner, one of my heels gave way. I threw off my shoes and kept running, not looking back. I ran as hard and as fast as possible until I came to a busy intersection. There, I took hold of a light pole and caught my breath. Passersby glanced at me, but no one stopped to ask me what was wrong or if he or she could help.
    I was finally able to flag down a taxi cab.
    "Must've been some party," the driver said after I got in. I realized my hair was a mess, the strands flying everywhere. Tears had streamed down my cheeks. My dress was rumpled and I was barefoot. Yet, I still clung stupidly to the wine glass I had taken from the reception. I gave the cab driver my address and sat back, my eyes closed all the way.
    When we arrived, I quickly paid the fare and rushed up the stairs and into the house. The moment I entered, I heard voices from the sitting room and remembered Agnes was having some of her theatrical friends over. I tried slipping by the door, but Agnes had heard me come in. She stepped out of the sitting room.
    "Dawn," she called. "Come and tell us about the reception." As I drew closer to her, she realized something was wrong. "What happened?"
    "Oh Agnes," I cried. "I got lost and lost your