Facing the Music by Jennifer Knapp Page A

for me, but it didn’t keep my spirit from drifting into it. From time to time, I became aware that my imagination had wandered off into some kind of reassuring conversation with a distant being. I suppose some folks would have called it prayer. Part of me wanted to say that I believed in God because that’s what good girls do, but my growing pride and sense of personal accomplishment was such that I wanted to push aside such notions. That business might have been necessary for some, but I felt I was managing just fine without it.
    The truth was that I wasn’t doing fine. I was slipping.
    For four long years, I had kept my eyes on the prize of college. By my senior year, I was counting down the days until graduation. I had successfully auditioned for, and was granted, a scholarship at nearby Pittsburg State. PSU was a good back-upplan, but I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my mentor, Carol. The University of Kansas (KU), in Lawrence, was her alma mater and was the school that I had spent my days dreaming about. Every day, I would race to the end of our country driveway to check the mailbox for the letter that would confirm their great desire to have me as an undergrad. KU’s tuition was pricey compared to Pitt State, but I had the confidence that I had the grades and musical pedigree to warrant enough scholarship money to supplement what modest income my father had promised to put toward my goal. For four years running, I was first-chair trumpet for the Kansas All-State Band. I had numerous State medals to my name in multiple disciplines and, clearly, enough ego to get me there.
    I waited and waited, but the letter I had hoped for never came. Many of my peers had already decided and confirmed where they were going to school next, but I was still on the bubble. It had never occurred to me to actually go up to the KU campus and audition as I had for PSU. The fact that I had auditioned for Pittsburg was actually an accident. I happened to find myself on campus for a State competition hosted by PSU. I was there anyway, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to go through the motions. Little did I know how fortuitous that audition would be.
    In truth, though I had dreamed of college, now that it was time to start making it happen, I was finding it difficult to figure out how to proceed on my own. In the infrequent and brief conversations I had had with my father about the matter, we spoke little more about it than we did our previous financial arrangement. I had honored my end of the bargain, but eventually it became clear that our agreement would not come to fruition as I had imagined it.
    One day, not long into my senior year of high school, I came home and noticed a new horse in the paddock. The gelding was easily admired. Courtly, muscular, and immaculately groomed, he was the most beautiful horse that had ever set foot on our farm. This animal wasn’t cheap and I knew it.
    In that instant, I was crushed. I realized that there was no family plan for my future. It had all gone into the horse.
    I held out hope that the steed belonged to someone else and that we were boarding it, maybe even training it for a season. But when I confronted my father about it, my worst fears were realized.
    â€œWhat’s with the new horse?” I tried to play down my internal panic while watching my dreams slip away.
    Coolly, my father replied, “It’s your stepmother’s new horse.” He paused, filling the gap with defeated silence. He took yet another beat and then: “She bought it.”
    â€œSeriously?” I asked with teenage sarcasm. I felt my body release all the chemicals of despair and rage into my bloodstream like a hot intravenous drip.
    â€œHow much? How much did you guys pay for that thing?”
    It was unlike me to be so forward and prying into our family finances, but I wanted to know. He had promised me college support, but he and I both knew we weren’t a family of great