Sanctity by S. M. Bowles Page B

eyebrows in complete
surprise.  “Very well, um, I guess we will be right
down.”  He turned to my mother, “How about that then?” 
My dad was clearly pleased with the idea of not having to
drive.
    My mother was standing in the hallway,
“Well, this will be quite a night, won’t it?”
    There seemed little alternative so we
gathered our coats and the other belongings we would need to take
and my dad ushered us out and down to the front door.  There
was a long, black car, “a limousine,” I thought to myself, parked
at the curb.  The driver was standing beside the passenger
door which he opened with a little flourish.  He took my
mother’s hand as she approached and helped her in.  Then he
smiled down at me, “Mr. Donovan’s most anticipated guest; you must
be Elayna.”
    “Yes, sir,” I beamed as he helped me
in.  I was flushed from head to toe; thrilled with all my
childish notions about the upcoming experience.
    My dad slid in and sat down beside my
mother.  The driver closed the door and took his seat at the
wheel.  He slowly pulled away from our building and we began
our drive into the city. 
    The driver didn’t talk much and my mom and
dad seemed a little overwhelmed by the touch of extravagance so it
was a very quiet ride.  I spent most of the time looking out
the window; watching the cars that passed us until they were out of
view or glancing up at the streetlights as they cast their glow on
us at steady intervals along our route.  My mind began to
wander and I found myself wondering about Mr. Donovan and why he
was being so nice to us.  I must have had a curious expression
because at one point my dad nudged me and asked what I was thinking
about.  “I guess I was thinking about Mr. Donovan and
wondering what he’ll be like.”
    “Oh, you’ll like him, I’m sure.  He’s
not at all what you would expect.”
    I waited for him to tell me more but my dad
turned to my mom instead and started talking over whether or not we
should try and get a bite to eat in the city afterwards. 
    Several minutes later we arrived at the Arts
Center.  There was a line of limos and groups of people
exiting from them at the front of the building.  We slowly
edged our way towards the top of the arrival line and as we reached
the main entryway our driver hopped out and delivered us from the
back seat.  He let us know that he would meet us back there
once the show was over.
    “Enjoy the ballet,” the driver smiled then
quickly turned and hurried away.
    I grasped my father’s hand and my mother
took his arm on the other side and we stepped up to the short
flight of stairs that led into the Arts Center.  Once we were
through the main doorway we stepped into a hall that looked as
though it could have been a palace throne room.  It was
brightly lit by chandeliers that hung from the ceiling.  The
floor was tiled and there were pillars lining each side of the room
and entry ways to the left and right.  Every nook and cranny
of the entrance hall looked to be carved from marble or stone or
wood.  Everything seemed to catch my eye all at once and I
couldn’t get over the magnificence of it all.
    My father led the way and after he displayed
our tickets we were directed to a stairway off to our left. 
At the top of the stairway we headed left again and down a short
little stair to the first box on our tier.  There was no one
there except for us.  My father suggested a seat to me, “I
think you will get the best view from here.  Hand me your coat
sweetie.” 
    I shrugged out of my jacket and my dad hung
it on one of the little hooks protruding from the wall.  I
took the seat he suggested and looked over the audience and the
stage.  It was darker there than in the hallway but as my eyes
adjusted I could make out the people nearest us and further up.
  As I looked toward the stage I noticed the pit area where
the musicians were tuning up their various instruments and I
watched them all excitedly.  The