by Andrew Price
“She looks me straight in the eyes and she says, ‘you’re not a jerk are you?’”
Alvarez laughed. “She’s perceptive!”
“Very funny.”
“What was her name again?”
“Natalie. She’s Penny’s older sister.”
“Whose idea was it for the three of you to go to lunch?”
“Mine actually.”
“Then you got what you deserved.”
“Ha ha. Actually, we had a good time after we went a couple rounds. I felt bad for Penny though, she looked like she was going to die of embarrassment when her sister started smacking me with questions.”
“Is this Natalie cute?”
“I’d say yes.”
“Did you mention you had an uber-successful friend named Vez who just happens to be single at the moment?”
“It slipped my mind.”
“Maybe you should write a note to remind yourself or something? That seems like a pretty critical detail to forget.” Both friends laughed. “Seriously, I would— oh shoot!”
“What?”
“I just overshot the cup. My ball bounced off the balcony. I hope there’s nobody in the pool.” Alvarez lived on the fourth floor, overlooking the apartment building’s pool.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.” Alvarez walked over to the balcony. “Oh good, the pool’s empty.”
“Why are you putting with the door open?”
“It’s hot in here, and I wasn’t putting toward the door. It ricocheted off the wall.”
“How hard did you hit it?”
“Too hard, apparently.”
“You’re a menace,” Corbin said.
“So how did lunch end? Did you two become fast friends?”
“I think so. Penny called later to tell me her sister really liked me, despite her attitude.”
“She’s just trying to make you feel better. She’s probably trying to figure out how to dump you right now.”
“Thanks.”
“Any time.”
“How’s work going?”
“Dull.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Corbin and Penny were in the park.
About a hundred people were scattered about enjoying the afternoon sun. The wind blew gently toward the Potomac, which raced silently by a few hundred yards from where Corbin and Penny sat on a blanket under a large Yellow-Poplar. Their bikes leaned against the tree. The Lincoln Memorial stood across the wide river, and Roslyn rose out of the trees behind them. Between Corbin and Penny sat a picnic basket. A chocolate lab watched the basket intently from a distance.
Penny covered her mouth with her hand. She was blushing. “Oh my God! I can’t believe I told you that! I’ve never told that to anyone before.”
“I can see why! You’ve got a dirty mind.”
“I do not!” Penny responded defensively, reaching over and mussing Corbin’s hair.
Corbin playfully tugged at the knot Penny had tied in the yellow cotton dress shirt she wore. Without the knot, the shirt would have been way too large, as it belonged to Corbin until a few days ago, before she borrowed it after getting caught in a rainstorm on her way to his apartment.
Penny pushed his hand away from the knot. “All right smarty, your turn! Favorite instrument other than guitar.”
“The noble cello. I’ve always thought the cello was the sexiest instrument.”
Penny giggled.
“What?” Corbin asked.
“I play cello.”
“You’re kidding?!” He’d seen the cello at her apartment, but assumed it belonged to her sister because Penny never mentioned that she played.
“No, seriously,” Penny replied. “Maybe I’ll play for you next time you come over.”
“You’re seriously not making this up?”
“I swear,” Penny pledged. She smiled involuntarily at the look in his eye. For several days now, she’d noticed a soft sparkle in his eyes, which gave her a warm and comfortable feeling. She couldn’t quite describe it, and her sister told her she was crazy, but she was sure it was there.
“When was the last time you played?”
“Last night.”
“After you went home from the club?”
“Yes.”
“So, if we went to your place right now, you could play something for me?”
“Yes,” she said softly, looking away from Corbin for the first time.
“What did you play last night?”
“The piece you opened with,” she replied cautiously.
Corbin stared at her in silence, as she watched some children throwing a frisbee back and forth. “Girl, you are making me fall hard.”
“I guess we have something in common.”
Corbin played Tuesdays, Fridays and Sundays. Fridays were generally the busiest, but Tuesdays and Sundays were catching up. Today was Friday, and the club was packed. In fact, the audience had grown so much lately Blue needed to buy more chairs to accommodate them, though the extra money he made from drink sales more than offset this new expense. The extra money also allowed Blue to fix up the place. Gone were the burned-up lights that made everything brown. In their place, he’d put silvery lights that shone indirectly off the cherry wood paneling on the walls. This highlighted the accents in the wood, rather than casting them in shadow as the browning lights had done, and made the bar feel a bit like an ancient library, though the crowd noise and the ever-present smell of fried foods reminded people of the room’s true purpose. Blue also replaced the glaring white stage lights with softer, golden lights which gave everything on stage a dreamlike quality.
Corbin made his way to the bar, where Penny and Blue were talking. Corbin walked up behind Penny and kissed her on the back of the neck. Without turning around, Penny swatted him away. A huge grin lit her face.
“Not now, my boyfriend’s going to arrive any minute.” Penny laughed and turned to hug Corbin tightly.
“What you playin’ tonight?” Blue asked Corbin.
“I’ve got something special planned, Blue.”
“Are you finally playing the piece?” Penny asked, releasing Corbin.
“That’s the one,” Corbin said.
Penny clasped her hands. “I’m so excited! Blue, I’ve been dying to hear this piece, ever since Alex mentioned it. He wrote it himself, and the little I’ve heard is incredible, but he won’t let me hear the whole thing. He keeps telling me ‘it’s not ready yet’,” she said trying to mimic Corbin’s deeper voice.
Corbin backed away from the bar, toward the stage. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”
“I can’t make any promises,” she said, closing her eyes and blowing Corbin a kiss.
This was the first piece of music Corbin ever wrote. It was an incredibly complex piece, but years of practice let him play it perfectly. Indeed, he’d played it thousands of times, just not for anyone else. It was also a deeply emotional piece. In fact, it captured his emotions perfectly because every time he played it to himself, he refined it depending on his mood. He worked on the sad parts when he felt sad and the uplifting parts when he felt happy. It was his release. He recorded each of his triumphs, his failures, his hopes, his dreams and his dreads in this single piece of music, and he’d captured his own emotions so well that sometimes he could make himself laugh or tear up just by playing certain sections. And when he hit one of those moments, where he felt a genuine emotional response, he would study it and use that raw emotion to refine the rest. Slowly but surely he recreated his soul in musical form. This was what he played that warm September night, and no audience at the Bluetone ever cheered so loud. Some cried, some laughed, and some just felt themselves swept away.
When he finished, Corbin made his way back to the bar. As he walked through the still-entranced crowd, several people thanked him and shook his hand. Others stood and applauded.
Penny slid off the barstool as Corbin approached. She’d obviously bee
n crying, as her mascara had run. Now she looked at Corbin with such admiration that it startled him; her face held the same expression as a child’s when they meet their hero.
“That was amazing,” she shouted over the din of the frenetic crowd. She wrapped her arms around him as tightly as she could.
“Thanks!”
Two more patrons patted Corbin on the back.
Penny loosened her grip and leaned back in his arms so she could look up into his face. More tears appeared in her eyes. “God, I could almost feel what you were feeling when you were playing. The whole room just vanished. It was like I was alone with you. It was surreal.” She hugged him again.
Blue joined them after making change for a customer. He smiled broadly. “I can’t believe you waited to play that! People started coming up before you finished. They said, ‘do you have a recording.’ I told ’em ‘no, not yet.’ They told me, ‘can we sign up to get one.’ You got to record that!”
“Did you like it?”
“Did I like it?!” Blue exclaimed. He let out a belly laugh. “I ain’t cried at a piece of music in ten years. I cried tonight. You got to record it! You got to put it out there for the world to hear. You ain’t got no right to keep that music to yourself.”
“Thanks Blue, I mean that.”
Penny continued staring at Corbin. Her pupils were huge and she bit her lip. She ignored everyone else in the bar.
Corbin looked at her and smiled. “What?”
She didn’t answer. She just hugged him again.
Chapter 20
The weather turned cooler again. It wasn’t cold enough yet for winter coats, but it was cooler than normal for October in the Washington, D.C. area. Consequently, Molly’s skirts were getting longer and pants returned to her wardrobe. Today she wore a wool pinstriped pantsuit. The wide collar on her white dress shirt spread out over the lapels of the navy suit. Shoe Guy’s silver necklace still hung prominently around her neck.
Molly’s officemate was out on maternity leave. This left Corbin as one of the few people in the office to whom she liked to talk. Hence, she spent a lot of time in his office. As usual, she sat on his desk with her feet on the extra chair.
“I am sooooo bored. Entertain me,” she pleaded.
Corbin shrugged his shoulders. “What do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know. Juggle. . . do a magic trick. Tell me a story.”
“What kind of story?”
“Tell me what you and Beckett were up to before he left? I’m sure the statute of limitations has run out on whatever crime it was.” Molly never let up on her suspicions about June 14th and she occasionally tried to trick Corbin into giving up details of what he and Beckett had done. This comment, however, was not a serious attempt.
Corbin didn’t respond.
“Ever hear from Beckett?” she asked.
Corbin shook his head.
“Strange little man.” Molly wrinkled her nose and smirked. “What do you think his wife is like? I’ll bet she’s a retired hooker or a mail-order bride.”
“As far as I know, they’re a normal, happy, loving couple of twenty-some years.”
“If they’re happy and loving after twenty years, then they’re not normal.” Molly began picking at one of her nails. “Heard anything about T’s new boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Me neither. She’s not talking to anybody about him.”
“I couldn’t help but notice your feud has died down.”
This time Molly shrugged her shoulders.
“How goes the plan to get rid of Carl?” Carl was the new guy’s real name, though Molly still called him “new guy” to his face and an assortment of nasty names behind his back.
She frowned. “The plan hit a snag.”
“I hear they’re repainting the office,” Corbin said. This was true. They were changing the dingy white walls and beige moldings to off-white walls and dark-beige moldings.
Molly began kicking the extra chair’s seatback with one foot, while holding the chair in place with the other foot.
“How’s it going with Shoe Guy and Clerk Guy?”
Molly frowned. “They’re ok. Shoe Guy drops a lot of coin on me, but he’s kind of dull.” She fingered the necklace he gave her. “Clerk Guy. . . Clerk Guy’s days may be numbered.”
“Really, what happened?”
“Nothing. . . literally.” Despite her reputation around the office, Molly never made the first move with her boyfriends, but it was understood they would. Clerk Guy didn’t. For a while, this fascinated and perplexed her, and she spent a couple weeks driving everyone in the office crazy trying to figure out why he hadn’t. But as his reticence continued, her fascination turned to frustration, then annoyance.
“At least you’ve still got Shoe Guy.”
“Any problems to report between you and what’s-her-name?”
“No, everything’s fine.”
“You know what the problem is with you men?” Molly asked, suddenly annoyed. She gave the chair a strong kick before pushing it away and sliding off the desk.
“What?”
“You fall in love, and you become so damn boring.” She made for the door, again without returning the chair.
“Maybe we just become better people?” Corbin called after her.
“No, just more boring.”
Corbin and Penny sat on Corbin’s couch. They were kissing. Penny sat next to Corbin, with her legs draped over his lap and her left arm wrapped around his neck. She wore a sleeveless black dress which ended just above her knees. She’d worn this dress so they could go to dinner at an expensive restaurant downtown. They never made it. As they kissed, Corbin’s left hand wrapped around the outside and back of her right thigh, just below the hem of the skirt. He moved his hand along her thigh, but didn’t go further up her skirt than an inch. His right hand teased her back, just above the dress’s zipper, and up to her neck. He could hear her breathing heavily.
Penny’s right hand slipped in and out Corbin’s blue dress shirt where she’d undone a couple of buttons. She’d already removed his red and gold tie. As she ran her fingers across his chest, she leaned her head back, encouraging Corbin to kiss her neck. He accepted the invitation and tenderly kissed a spot she liked just below her ear. As his lips worked their way down to the top of her dress, she playfully ruffled his hair. Soon, his lips returned to hers and his left hand moved up her thigh another inch. She responded by undoing another button on his shirt, a lower button. There weren’t many left.
Penny stared into Corbin’s eyes. He still had that look with the soft sparkly eyes which made her feel so warm and comfortable. As she ran her fingers through his hair, he gave the zipper at the back of her dress a slight tug. She smiled. A moment later, she kicked off her heels. Then she pulled herself off of Corbin and rearranged herself on top of him, with one knee on either side of his legs. She could feel his excitement. He reached for the zipper with his right hand and pushed his left hand all the way up the back of her thigh. She slid her hands behind her back and helped him unzip the dress. Then she leaned over and kissed him, slipping her arms out of her dress as she did. As Corbin’s hands moved to explore this newly exposed area, Penny unbuttoned the last of his shirt buttons, before her hands moved lower.
Chapter 21
Though the church was ancient and small, it was also comforting. Beckett sat in the second pew, near the aisle. He waited patiently for the old priest to finish clearing the ornate altar. The priest moved slowly. He hadn’t noticed Beckett yet. When the priest finished with the altar, Beckett called him. The priest pushed his glasses higher up his nose with his wrinkled finger and squinted at Beckett.
“Do I know you, son?” He made his way over to Beckett.
“No Father, I’m not a member of your church. . . but my parents were in their youths.”
The priest looked at Beckett, but didn’t ask his parents’ names. Instead, he sat down in the first pew, turning to look at Beckett over
his shoulder. “How can I help you?” he asked in an old voice, though not a frail voice.
“Father, I’ve done something.” Beckett folded his hands as if in prayer.
The priest started to speak, but stopped himself and let Beckett continue at his own pace.
“I’ve sinned and I don’t know how to atone for it.” Beckett gnashed his teeth together and shook his head slightly. “I’ve allowed myself to be tempted by evil. I gave in to my fears,” he said quietly, unable to look the priest in the eyes. “I was weak. . . I feared I couldn’t provide for my family. I didn’t know what to do. . . and I allowed myself to be tempted by the promise of easy money, the promise that all my problems could be solved with one evil deed. I told myself it wasn’t wrong, but I knew better. I turned a blind eye to my own evil. . . I betrayed everything I believe.” A single tear appeared at the corner of his eye.
“What did you do?” the priest asked softly.
“I stole a great deal of money and now it’s killing me. The money’s like a burning flame that haunts me day and night. I can’t sleep anymore. I see it in my dreams. I feel its presence during the days. Even when it’s out of sight, I know it’s there, reminding me of my failure, my betrayal of my family, my faith, myself.” Beckett paused, exhaling loudly and casting his eyes toward the ceiling. Another tear appeared.
“What happened to this money?”
“Nothing,” Beckett said, shutting his eyes tightly. “I can’t spend it. I tried. . . I tried spending it. I told myself the deed was done and I could live with it. I went to buy my wife a new stove. She’d never ask for it, she never asks for anything. I wanted to surprise her. But all I could think of was that I was damning her with my crimes. How can I do that?” Beckett rested his head in his hands.
The priest remained silent.
“When I was young, I learned a poem. It’s stuck with me all these years. It’s about salvation, and it taught me. . . it taught me that we make our own prisons.” Beckett began to recite:
“At length did cross an Albatross
through fog it came;