Tessie Triumphant

TESSIE TRIUMPHANT
by SarabethW
This is the story of Tessie, a story of sadness and sacrifice and love triumphant, played out upon a stage of chaos and tragedy.
*
Tessie’s earliest memory was her fifth birthday. It was the first time she had ever had a party. She was so excited she could hardly sleep the night before. Her father had accompanied her the previous week to her pre-K class to get the names of all the other students for the invitations, and to meet with other parents at an open house. As always he felt a little awkward being the only father amongst a crowd of mothers, but he was getting used to it.
Tessie’s mother died shortly after she gave birth to Tessie. There was a rather virulent outbreak of the flu that filled the hospitals to overflowing. Tessie came home in the protecting arms of her father. Her mother never came home.
She died in a bleak midwinter, the winds whistling like lonesome wraiths over the lakes and depositing blankets of snow and ice over the countryside. Her father and mother were high school sweethearts, with a love for each other that challenged the coldest wraiths of winter, and even worse, the bitter taunts of racism and prejudice. Her father was as black as an ebony piano key, while her mother was a frail and ivory-pale neighbor to the sharps and flats surrounding her.
Of course, Tessie had no conscious memory of her mother, but she would scour the old photo albums looking at the many pictures there were of her before death had robbed her of her youth and vigor…and child. Every day of her life she would curse fortune for depriving her of her right to a mother.
At least there were a lot of pictures. Her father had once been an amateur photographer, president of the photography club in high school, and quite good. But that was long, long ago. In a back room, seldom used, the stacks of photo albums gathered dust.
*
It was a princess party, though only two other princesses answered the lure of the invitations. It was a bit disappointing, thought Tessie, but at least they were both her closest friends. Nnaka was a few months older than Tessie, with skin as black as new moon’s midnight. Her parents were from the Congo, but had lived in America since before Naki was born. Doreen was two weeks younger than Tessie. Dorrie was ghostly pale; a pasty, pudgy little imp with a quick and sassy mouth. Together they were about as different as three friends could possibly be, but untainted by the prejudices of their elders, they bonded inseparably to each other for what would be a lifetime.
But thoughts of a lifetime were far from the minds of the three young princesses, parading around the house in their fancy gowns and plastic crowns. They played the entire afternoon, lost in princess fantasies of silk and crinoline, flying carpets and handsome princes. Along with these preschool fantasies, the inescapable games of tag and hide-and-seek found their way into their childish play.
It was during one of these games of hide-and-seek that Tessie made a great discovery; a discovery that would influence her life for years to come. In a hurry to find the perfect hiding place, she and Naki ducked into the back room, behind several stacks of photo albums. Naki had never been in the room before and thought it a perfect choice. While Dorrie searched hopelessly through the house, Tessie and Naki giggled behind a stack of albums. It was then Tessie saw a small, forgotten album tucked away in the corner of a dusty stack. It was one of those small bindings that could only hold a couple of dozen photos, and even then, it was only half full. The binding crackled a bit when it was opened, revealing that it had not been perused for a long while.
Inside were several photos from what looked like a high school Christmas play. Tessie immediately recognized her mother, dressed in a flowing white gown, and sporting angel wings. She was beautiful…or one might say, angelic. Naki and Tessie were admiring the photos, quite forgetting the game, when of a sudden their eyes grew the size of saucers. There, slipped into the plastic behind the last picture, was another, slightly different from the rest.
There was her mother, still in angel wings, but no gown. That’s right! Utterly naked save for the feathery addition of the wings. She was standing against a white background with the gown held up against her chest. The two playmates sat mesmerized by the site before their eyes. Tessie’s mother was beautiful! Their gazes wondered down her torso, first being drawn to the ample bosom, nipples hidden by the gown clutched closely to her breast, down to her thin waist and the flawless curvature of her bottom. Her skin shone in an unblemished alabaster glow. Her blond hair tumbled in billowing waves down her back, almost to her waist, and her eyes were cast downward before her. They barely noticed when Dorrie came into the room and crept up behind them, but they heard her sharp intake of breath.
“It’s an angel!” Dorrie exclaimed, not knowing the picture was Tessie’s mother.
Dorrie, being the Irish Catholic in the bunch, was considered somewhat the expert on faëries and angels, and although Tessie knew the picture had been taken by her father when he and her mother were in high school, she felt a certain comfort in Dorrie’s remark that her mother was an angel.
“Oh! Dorrie,” cried Tessie, “tell us about angels. Are they sweet? Have you ever seen one?”
“No,” replied Dorrie, “but I know I have a guardian angel who watches over me day and night. When I’m bad, my guardian angel sits in the corner and cries, but when I’m good, she sits there and smiles so proudly, it makes me want to be good all the time.”
“Ha!” cried Naki, “Fat chance that’s gonna happen.”
While the coterie of princesses laughed in unison, Tessie quickly tucked the photo into her gown and tagged Naki, crying, “You’re it!” and ran from the room, followed by two screaming pursuers.
*
Late that night, after her father was asleep, Tessie pulled the photo from the gown in the corner of her room, and in the incandescent halo of her night light, stared fixedly at her mother’s image, repeatedly scanning it with the wondrous eyes of childhood. This was her guardian angel, and she would pledge her life to being good and making this guardian angel happy in all she did.
She kissed the image and put it under her pillow.
*
Ten years later, Tessie walks out of the school doors with her two friends Naki and Dorrie. She had grown into a slender young woman of exceptional poise and talent. At the age of six, she began to take lessons on the piano and practiced diligently under the eye of her guardian angel. So diligently in fact, that by the time she was in high school, she had achieved the reputation of a prodigy. Her fingers were long and slender and caressed the piano keys with a deftness and tenderness that few her age could boast of. Her studies earned her an honor role status and she was likely to be her class valedictorian upon graduating.
But in all her studies and practicing she always found time to be with her friends, a triad friendship that had never flagged over the years. Naki had grown tall and stately, sought after by all the boys. Dorrie was short and stout, and her temper was legend…no one dared to get on her bad side. But still, as different as they were, they were the truest of friends and confidants.
This was a typical autumn day, the winds of early winter picking up the fallen leaves and tossing them about in little whirlpools across the school grounds. The three companions sat next to each other upon some benches by the football field.
“I’m so excited about the concert tonight,” Naki was telling Tessie.
Tessie had been invited to play a Beethoven concerto with the local civic orchestra as soloist and everybody was looking forward to it. It was to be held at the high school auditorium.
“I’m going to hang around here and practice on the grand in the auditorium before I go home to change for the concert,” said Tessie, “Will I see you later tonight?”
“Are you kidding? Of course you’ll see us!” replied Dorrie, “and we’re bringing a dozen roses each for the prima donna!”
They all hugged and parted, Naki whispering a heartfelt “Good luck” into Tessie’s ear.
Tessie went back into the auditorium and practiced through her parts for a good hour and a half before going home. She had an hour before she had to be back, and the night was setting in. The walk was only a few blocks and she walked it briskly. There was a shopping center about half way home and she was passing it by, when all of a sudden hands gripped her shoulders and she was pulled into an alley amongst some dumpsters behind the stores.
At first, she didn’t know what was happening, but then the situation became clear. There were three older students from the school…dropouts from the system, who had formed a gang in the neighborhood. And they had, off and on, been trouble.
“Well!” cried the leader, “Look who we have here. Little Miss Perfect herself.”
“Hmm,” piped in another, pushing her to her knees, “a little too much white meat if you ask me.”
“Mmmmm,” said the third, “I love white meat. Especially breast meat.”
Upon saying that, the third boy took one of her breasts in his hand and squeezed rather roughly.
“I’ll scream if you don’t let me go immediately,” Tessie said with a trembling in her voice.
“Ooooh, scary!” cried the leader, “Breast meat is gonna scream.”
He reached down and ripped the blouse from her shoulders and snapped his finger. Instantly the cold steal of a jack-knife was felt upon her right breast.
“So … scream away honey,” he said, “just remember, the knife is rather sharp, and you don’t want me snappin’ my finger again.”
There was a coldness in his voice.
“Cut it off.”
The terror in her eyes was nothing compared to the agony in her mind. “What could she do?” she thought as the knife began to slide along her flesh and cut the shoulder straps and front of her bra. The leader pulled it off and tossed it into one of the dumpsters. Her breasts were ample and firm. The cold wind whisking down the alleyway made her nipples hard and erect. She was too afraid to say anything, hoping that they would not hurt her. Her breasts heaved as she struggled to control her breathing.
“That’s better,” the leader said, “I’m glad we understand each other. No one’s gettin’ hurt here. Understand?”
Tessie silently nodded, shivering in the cold.
“Remember, baby, you and me were both born black. ‘nd I don’t give a fuck how white your mama was. Understand?”
All Tessie could do was nod, hoping that the knife would not press any harder against her mocha-bronze skin. Her eyes began to tear up.
“Oh, look at that, boys, little mocha baby’s gonna cry!” the leader continued, “Well get this, baby, you’re gonna cry a lot more if you don’t do everything we say. You got me, girl?”
Another nod. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Thoughts were racing through her mind at hyper-speed. Fifteen years old…virgin…raped. And she was totally helpless. The gang member to her left was rubbing his crotch up against her shoulder. His penis was so hard she could feel it through his jeans. How foolish she had been all her life, thinking she had a guardian angel. Where was that guardian angel now? “Mama … please help me,” she fervently prayed in her mind, knowing that guardian angels were about as real as fairy tale princesses.
“And you strut around thinkin’ you’re too good for the hood,” said the leader, interrupting her thoughts.
“Well show us how good you are, baby, and suck my dick!”
Tessie clamped her jaw tightly, but as the leader began to unzip his jeans, the boy to her left who had been rubbing his hard-on against her shoulder pinched her nose, so the only way she could breathe was to open her mouth. As she struggled to hold her breath, the knife was pressing ever more painfully against her right breast. Finally, she could bear it no more, and as the leader’s dick was emerging from the top of his boxers, she opened her mouth and gasped for air…
*
Suddenly, everything changed in an instant, too quick to comprehend. Like an object being sucked into a black hole, the leader of the gang flew backward across the alley and crashed with a sickening crunch against the side of a dumpster, leaving him limp and lifeless on the pavement. Simultaneously, the knife pressing into her soft flesh went flying through the air, landing with a rattling uselessness far down the alley pavement, as its bearer was thrown against the brick wall behind him, rendering him unconscious as well.
The third gang member, who had seconds before been so busy humping her shoulder, began to comprehend the situation and turned to flee. But a hand came down upon his shoulder like a vise grip and turned him around to face the wrath of his attacker.
“Well, well, well! What have we here? Big boys attacking a little girl. I’m truly impressed! Your mothers must be proud.”
The only member still conscious was shaking like a leaf as he pissed himself.
“I could easily kill you, you know. But I have another plan.”
Tessie began to take stock of the situation as the voice of her father brought her back to reality.
“First thing tomorrow morning,” he continued, “I expect the three of you to report to the army recruiter on 3rd street…first thing. Understand?”
It was the boy’s turn to nod now, as if his life depended on it.
“And don’t even think of running. I know who you three are, and I can make life hell for you if you don’t do exactly as I say. As a reserve captain, I will be checking to make sure you showed up. Don’t fuck with me, boy!”
He pushed him backward onto his unconscious friend.
“Tomorrow morning, eight o’clock. And tell your friends to clean themselves up. They look like shit, and you smell like piss.”
*
Tessie was trembling so violently she couldn’t stand. Her father simply swept her up in his arms like she had no more weight than a baby and took her home. The warm comfort of her father’s arms penetrated deeply into her frame and she was quite able to walk by the time they arrived, but he carried her to her bedroom and laid her down next to the evening gown on the bed.
It was then she realized that she had only half an hour to dress and be ready for her concert.
“I can call the school and cancel for you,” the father said, “No one would blame you.”
“No,” she replied, “I’ll be fine. I can’t let everyone down.”
But inside, she felt a great turmoil of emotions.
Slowly, Tessie pulled on her dress and called her father to zip it up.
“You look beautiful, Tessie, and I’m very proud of you. I know you’ll do well tonight. I’ll be in the front row.”
They walked back to the school together, arm in arm. When they arrived Naki and Dorrie ran out to greet them. Naki gave her a kiss and expressed her admiration over the black evening gown. Dorrie took one look at her and asked, “What’s wrong?” It was so like Dorrie to see through outward appearances.
I’ll tell you both later, Dorrie,” Tessie replied, “For now, I have a concert to perform. Wish me luck.”
The auditorium was filled to capacity, everyone wanting to see and hear Tessie at the piano. It was a small chamber orchestra of twenty-four musicians, mainly strings with a few woodwinds. The organizer had spent a pretty sum to bring many of the first chairs from the local symphony to perform that evening, and Tessie was looking forward to the soloist fee she was to receive.
Suddenly all was ready, the instruments tuned, the conductor in place, the lights lowered in the house, and the spotlight illuminating the piano. Tessie walked from the wing to the piano bench and sat down. You could barely hear a breath. The conductor raised his baton and the orchestra began to play the exposition. Tessie stared intently at the keys, a row of black and white, ebony and ivory, and thought of the interplay between the two. Every new performance was like a child born from the interplay of black and white, and this child would be beautiful.
The exposition came to a close. It was Tessie’s turn. A pregnant moment of silence hovered over the house, and then Tessie’s long, slender, fragile digits descended upon the keys, giving birth to sound. At that moment she became the music, soaring with the brilliance of Beethoven’s genius, dimming with his dark minor-keyed interludes, storming through his fortissimo passages, and coming to rest with lilting reveries. It was a new spirit she felt that night. She had never felt it before, but it carried her fingers across the broad expanse of keys, black and white, ebony and ivory. She became lost in the expanse of sound.
Suddenly, the house was standing and cheering, bringing Tessie back to the world from which she had, for a few brief moments, escaped. She stood and bowed, but all seemed so unreal … unattached. Calls of “Encore!” were heard across the house. When the sound died down, Tessie was left standing upon the stage in the spotlight. It was a pivotal moment, and it seemed as though a voice was talking through her.
“Thank you all so much for attending this evening,” she spoke, as though it wasn’t really her speaking, and continued in a vein not even she had considered, “Tonight, I would like to thank all who have stood by my side the last few years; my friends, Naki and Dorrie, and my Father. I am very fortunate, but there are some who lack that fortune. There is a shelter only a mile from this school, where women, battered and abused, seek solace and protection. I intend to donate my soloist’s fee to that shelter, and ask voluntarily for any in the orchestra to do the same.”
An approving applause emanated from the house, her father nodding with pride.
“And now,” Tessie continued, “I will play the second movement of Beethoven’s Sonata ‘Pathetique,’ to thank you for your kind reception this night.”
Never was a fifteen year old girl seen with such refinement and grace as Tessie that night was observed by the four hundred or so in the audience of that school auditorium. Years later, people would recall her performance and its magic.
From the moment her fingers touched the keyboard, it could be felt, spellbinding and riveting. A sadness permeated the soul of every individual in the house. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the long and incredibly young fingers caressing the keyboard. It was like stepping into another world, composed not of objects and sensual contexts, but of pure sounds and the emotions they engendered.
When she placed her fingers upon the keys, framing the final pensive chord, a long thoughtful silence ensued. All the eyes in the house and all the eyes in the orchestra were filled with tears, so moving was the power of the music. At the back of the house, standing in the shadows, was a young black man, battered and bruised, his cheeks wet with an overflow of tears. As the applause began to sweep across the house, he snuck away, just as he had stolen in.
Tessie had no tears. She stood and gave a stately bow to the audience, whose applause had become deafening to her ears. Suddenly, inside her head, the applause began to echo, as if bouncing from one side of her brain to the other, not able to escape. Her fingers and feet began to cramp excruciatingly, and her head seemed to explode and fragment into a thousand pieces. She fell to the stage, unconscious and lifeless.
*
People rushed to the stage, her father and Dorrie arriving first at her side. Her father sat down next to her while Dorrie called for a doctor in the audience and told people to “Get the hell back! She needs air,” with typical Dorrie aplomb.
Two hours later she woke up at the hospital with Naki and Dorrie by the bedside. Naki ran down the hall to get her father.
“That was quite an encore,” Dorrie piped up, “You really know how to bring the house down.”
“I don’t feel right,” Tessie mumbled.
“I don’t doubt that, after all the tests you’ve been through,” Dorrie replied.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” was Tessie’s retort.