Sonya nodded.
“This main character is a beautiful songbird who sits outside the window of a grand castle, singing for the almighty powerful king and his lovely wife.”
Sonya nodded. “I understand.”
“This songbird is not shrill. It does not screech. It does not cry. It does not bellow. This songbird is strong but feminine. This songbird is intelligent but sweet. We’re not looking for a childish voice nor that of someone who is...let’s say...too innocent.”
“I think I know what you’re looking for.”
“Good. So, what song would you like to perform for us today?”
“Qin’ai de,” Sonya said.
Brian frowned. “I don’t believe I know that one.” He looked to the pianist. “You?”
The older man at the piano shook his head.
“If I may,” Sonya said, “I would like to try it on my own.”
“Acapella?”Brian said.
“If that’s okay with you.”
“Certainly.”
The man and woman on either side of him nodded, intrigued.
Sonya stood still and looked down to the floor, down at her shoes. She grounded herself, then dug in. The first long and haunting note seeped from her lips, operatic in nature. In mandarin, she sang of her great love, and of her heartbreaking loss. She sang of the soaring highs in her life and of the horrifying lows. She’d long ago lost those she loved. She’d lost the land she’d called home. But after the loss, after the heartache, she had once again found happiness...the happiness that comes with being free.
Her eyes filled with tears as she reached the bridge that had her delving deeper still into her emotions. She closed her eyes, her mind going back to a time long ago...a lifetime ago.
When she opened her eyes to look at the trio in front of her, she found them gaping. Annabelle reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes.
With a barely audible whisper, Sonya sang the last heartfelt words. Bowing, she then clasped her hands behind her back and awaited their comments.
“I have no idea what you just sang about,” the woman said. “I didn’t understand a single word...but I felt it. I felt it all. Your way of emoting is incredible.”
Brian stood and quietly clapped. “I have to agree. Every note, every intonation, every whisper. Shivers ran down my back as you hit that sweet high C, then tears filled my eyes when you growled through that aching bridge.”
“And I agree with my cohorts,” Jack said. “Rarely have I been moved as you’ve moved me, and all that without understanding a word. That is the genius of a true artist, a truly talented singer.”
“I am humbled by your praise.” She turned to head to the door.
Annabelle stood and quickly came to her. “Not through that door, dear,” she said. She turned to another door and opened it. “You can wait here.”
Confused, Sonya entered the room, surprised to find herself alone. The room was nicely furnished; a soft red velvet sofa, two violet velvet armchairs, a piano and a table that was set up against the wall. A coffee machine awaited a mug and the press of a button to brew fresh hot coffee while small sandwiches and a variety of pastries were set up on various platters.
Sonya looked at the offerings, but nothing tempted her. As confident as she was in her ability, and encouraged by the high praise she’d received, she was still nervous about the ultimate outcome of this audition, after all, there were still many to follow her. Perhaps one would be even more talented than she was.
Through the door, she heard the potential talents all vying for the few cherished parts in this new musical. Finally, after almost an hour, the door opened and Brian stepped in, accompanied by Jack and Annabelle.
Sonya jumped to her feet.
“You didn’t even make yourself a cup of coffee,” he said. “No tea?”
She shook her head. “I’m already on edge as it is.”
He chuckled. “Well, I have no idea why. We told you how much we loved your audition.”
