One evening, Mrs. J hunched over and dropped dead after listening to ‘Meditation from Thais’ on her record player. Moira, 9, never moved from her spot on the couch across from Mrs. J who had been listening with her eyes closed. She always talked about the piece as if she’d just discovered its beauty.
“You should learn this piece with Karen [a kid from the neighborhood who played violin] and play it for me someday. It would make me happy.” She’d tell Moira, who’d always cock her head to the left. That somehow meant ‘yes’ to Mrs. J.
Earlier that day, at the park, Mrs. J was seen talking to a woman while Moira played nearby. She saw the new woman once…and once more several years later; Gloria. Usually when she babysat Moira at her (Mrs. J’s) own apartment, she’d pick up the girl, they’d stop at the park for a bit, and then walk over to the apartment, close to the park, with matching lollipops.
On that day, only Moira walked licking one. Mrs. J, usually talkative, walked silently. Once home, she got her tea, put on Nathan Milstein’s version of ‘Meditation…’, and sat down to listen. “Milstein’s version is an incomplete,” she’d almost always say about the piece; she loved that version nonetheless.
At about 3:37 into the piece, Mrs. Jordan opened her eyes, looked straight into Moira’s and calmly said:
“You’re a very special child, my baby, never forget that.”
..and rather oddly…added…
“Act 2. I never understood why she did it.”
The 9 year old finished her lollipop while the old woman lay dead on the carpeted floor. She then sat in her spot until the door bell rang an hour later. And it rang. And it rang….
