Flash Fiction by Dave Freedman
I took my daughter Natalia to audition for a musical play in New York. She was practicing for weeks and weeks in our apartment, singing a song called “Diamond Road,” which is the name of the play.
Natalia and I went to the auditorium for the audition. We were both nervous. We had been in the USA only five months, and she was 17.
I sat off to the side of the director and producer and other judges. Someone turned on the music recording, and the director nodded to Natalia, and she started to sing. At once she was no longer nervous. Her voice was so sweet, and she sounded better even than in our apartment. She was in a different world, inside the music. The judges watched Natalia like they had never heard anyone with a voice so exquisite. They looked at each other with expressions that were not quite blank – I think it was amazement. They watched Natalia intensely.
When Natalia finished her song, there was silence for a long time. The judges only looked at her, said nothing. Natalia was puzzled for several seconds but then she knew. She would be a very, very successful singing actress. She knew this with total certainty, at that moment.
The director said, in a subdued voice, “Natalia, that was wonderful.” The woman sitting next to him leaned her head down and put a hand over her eyes like she was going to cry.
Then I knew also. Natalia would sing on stages all over the world. There was never a doubt in our minds from that day forward.
Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons