Dawn in the Orchard

by Cooper West

  Chuck sat on the stool furthest from Gary, something Fran noticed but did not make any comment about other than a slightly raised eyebrow in Gary’s direction. Jamie, wrapped up inthe precise arrangement of his keyboard, the music sheets, and his chair, was oblivious.

  Garysat onhis usualstooland tried not to throttle his guitar. After a few minutes, Fran and Chuck were tuned up, and Jamie had his hands held over the keyboard with an expectant look on his face. They were waiting for Gary to take the lead, but he just stared at themand wondered when the flop sweat was going to start. His heart was hammering. He felt himself jerkinghis eyes around fromone personto the other.

  Chuck put his fiddle on its rack and stood up. “This isn’t going to work, I don’t think. Let’s try somethingelse.”

  Jamie set his long-fingered hands on his hips, glaring at Chuck. “What’s not working? You know I took time offfrommyjob to—” “Hold on a sec, Jamieson,” Chuck said, looking at Gary, who felt the sweat starting to drip down his back. “Gary, we’re just friends here.”

  Gary nodded, words stuck in his throat. The room began taking on the shimmery quality that things got when he was just shy of a full-blown panic attack, and his fear over where this was headed only helped raise his anxietylevels.

  He felt heavy hands on his shoulders, grounding him. “Look at me. Look at me, right here. You need to breathe deep.”

  Gary tried focusing on Chuck’s face, tried doing what he was told to do, tried not to think about how disastrous this was, how he was throwing away his whole career because—

  “Gary! Focus on me!” Chuck pressed his hands down on Gary’s shoulders, increasing their contact. Gary blinked, looking up into the familiar hazel eyes. “That’s it. Just look at me. Don’t talk or anything, keep breathing.”

  Gary focused on his breath, remembering the lessons he got back when he dabbled in Buddhist mediation. He started counting his breaths, matching themto Chuck’s own breathing. He did not know how long they were there, Chuck standing in front of him, breathing with him, but eventually Gary felt his heart slow down and his vision realign. Chuck kept his hands onhis shoulders but nodded once he saw that Garywas calmingdown.

  “Okay, here’s what you’re going to do. Turn around.” Chuck physically pushed him around until Gary was facing the den, his back to the others. Chuck stopped then, rubbing his thumbs gently against Gary’s tense neck. Gary closed his eyes. When he opened themagain, he was just sitting in the living roomwith his guitar inhis hands.

  “Okay, now, you’re going to stay just like that. Pick the song you want to practice. Just play me something. I’mright here.” Chuck’s voice was low and soothing. Gary frowned for a second, the thought that Fran and Jamie were right behind him trying to settle into his brain, but Chuck felt him tighten up and massaged his neck a little harder. “Just play me something, Gary.”

  Chuck’s voice convinced Gary it was okay, and he unclenched his fingers enough to start on his arrangement of “Cattle in the Cane.” As he played through by himself, his hands and shoulders relaxed while the music filled his head. He welcomed it, letting the tune rattle around and chase out his monsters. He barely noticed when Chuck moved away or when Chuck’s fiddle hesitantly joined in. When they finished, Gary took a deep breath, stared at the wall, then started at the beginning again. He was almost surprised when Fran and Jamie joined Chuck to play behind him, but not enough to stop. Instead he felt bolstered by hearing the results of his long, hard work at arranging the song. His playing grew stronger, until it was a feedback loop that kept him moving through the full arrangement, and by the time they wrapped it up, he almost felt confident.

  There was a heavy, quiet moment after they all stopped. Taking a deep breath, Gary turned around, lookingdirectlyat Chuck.

  “Thanks.” Chuck smiled, a soft, self-pleased grin that made Garyfeellike a teenager witha crushallover again.

  “So, uh, is that… normal?”Franasked hesitantly.

  “Prettymuch.”Garyrubbed his face.

  “What is going on?” Jamie asked, clearly frustrated at beingleft out ofthe loop. “I guess I should have told you, but I was hoping….” Gary waved a hand around guiltily. “Anyway, I suffer fromstage fright.”

  “You’re joking,”Jamie said, crossinghis arms. “Jamie…,” Chuck answered with a note of warning in his voice, but Jamie rolled his eyes. Gary sighed.

  “No, I’m not joking. It’s been a problem for years now. I don’t… that’s why I’m not expecting to tour with this album. Chuck and Fran know about it but have never seen me have a panic attack before. I’m sorryifI freaked youguys out.”

  Jamie continued frowning but stared down at his keyboard. “Everyone’s got something, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Well.”Garysighed again.

  “That worked, though.” Fran pointed toward the den. “You looking the other way. I mean it’s not perfect, but hey, ifit gets us throughpractice?”

  Gary blinked. It was such a simple solution that he wondered at why he never thought of it before. “Maybe. Let’s try it again, see if I get… wound up or not.”

  “Wound up in the music works for me.” Chuck was stillsmiling.

  Gary turned around and started on “Cattle in the Cane” again, with hardly a pause to consider that he was in a roomwith people he barely knew and had not played with before. They worked their way through the song two more times, and it was a tolerable pass on each one. They were all stiff, unused to each other’s quirks or tells, and with Gary’s back to them it was hard for himto anticipate them. They were working off sheet music, though, and clearly the three of themwere used to a professional approach to practice, and by the end of the third time through they had coalesced into something close to what Gary imagined it was going to sound like. Triumphant, he jumped up and turned around.

  “That was it! That’s the sound I’mgoingfor!”

  Fran was grinning at him, holding her banjo like a baby, while Chuck was smiling—again or still, Gary did not know—and Jamie wore a self-satisfied expression as he fussed withthe sheet music.

  “Let’s do that one more time to loosen up and integrate a little more. Fran, try to make things a bit more plucky, not to the point of claw hammer or anything, but maybe a bit more….” Gary opened and closed his mouth, grasping for a concept, but Fran nodded at himinunderstanding.

  “Less jazzy, more traditional?”

  Garysnapped his fingers. “Yes! That! Let me and Jamie carry the ‘jazziness’. You and Chuck bring out the dirt, so to speak.”

  The two hours went by quickly, and soon everyone’s stomachs were grumbling as they packed up.

  “Two days?” Gary asked as he put his stoolback inthe den.

  “Maybe. Frank—the manager—wants me to cover a few shifts for Ann, who’s out sick. But tentatively, yeah.”Frannodded.

  Chuck and Jamie nodded as they packed up. Fran had ridden with Jamie so they ducked out together, Jamie complaining about how much work he had to do as he lugged his keyboard out the door. Chuck stalled for a few minutes, helping Gary put the kitchen chairs back where they belonged, leaving the livingroomlookinglarge and empty.

  “So.”

  “Thanks, for earlier. Yousaved myass.”

  Chuck smiled. “Just glad it worked.”

  “So amI, youhave no idea.”

  Chuck stepped up closer. “We work well together. We playwelltogether.”

  Gary closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, feelingthe electricitybetweenthem. “Chuck….”

  He felt the temperature drop as Chuck stepped away. When he opened his eyes, he saw Chuck squintingout the windows.

  “Business.”

  Garynodded.

  “Won’t stop me hoping for more.” Chuck kept his gaze fixed on the windows, looking like he was pained to admit it. Garyknew how he felt.

  “I have my pride, Chuck. I spent years with a man who loved me but was ashamed of our relationship. ’Bout tore me apart, and I’m not… I can’t….” Gary
crossed his arms and looked at the floor.

  Chuck nodded slowly once, then walked out without any further comments. Gary stood where he was in the kitchen for a long time before he set about makinghimselflunch.

  ChapterTwelve

  For the next five weeks, with the exception of

  Thanksgiving week which carried everyone away to family reunions and cooking marathons, the practice sessions were a bit haphazardly scheduled. Fran’s various bartending jobs had her switching shifts with other people and generally being “on call” to make money, while Jamie’s computer programmingwork was feast-or-famine. They managed to get two practice sessions in on the second week, but settled on once a week as a firmcommitment the rest ofthe time. Bytheir third session Gary was able to turn around and play while facing them, the hurdle of his performance anxiety cleared once he knew the others and was comfortable withthem.

  Chuck was friendly, funny, and distant at each session. It was what Gary had wanted. At least that was what he told himself each time Chuck smiled sweetly, packed up his fiddle, and held the door for Jamie or Fran as they all headed out. They were never alone together, and most of the conversation was about the songs they were practicing. It was all just as businesslike as it could possiblybe.

  Fran picked up on the small vibe of discomfort, though, and often cast Gary either accusing frowns or knowing smirks, depending on Chuck’s mood. Gary glared at her either way, enough for her to not try to corner him about the situation. But going on nearly a month and a half of practicing together made everyone comfortable and friendly in-between songs or during breaks, whichwas whyGarynever saw it coming.

  “So! Tonight?” Fran announced cryptically. Jamie nodded absently, tapping a score sheet as he read it. Chuck sighed but nodded. Gary looked up from his guitar.

  “What?”

  “It’s Thursday. Jamsession? Lower Forty?” “Don’t youwork that?”

  Fran shook her head. “It’s a money maker, and

  both Annie and I have seniority at the bar. Uncle Harvey split the baby by having us alternate Thursdays. It’s her turn to man the bar tonight. I’mgoing to go and flirt shamelessly with my boyfriend, drink a lot, and try to get some karaoke going!”

  “Over my dead body, Miss Fran,” Chuck spoke sternly, but his mouthcrooked up ina smile.

  “You can’t flirt with my boyfriend, Chuck,” Fran said witha look ofpityonher face. Chuck laughed.

  “You start karaoke, and I’ll have Cousin Brad throw you out.” Jamie pointed at her, unamused. Fran laughed.

  “You’llbe too drunk to ask, youlightweight!”

  That was when it registered with Gary that the others were packingup. “Wait, what? What time is it?”

  Chuck paused to look over at him. “Near eight o’clock.”

  “Really?”

  Franlaughed again. “Hey, come withus!Youcan ride withme or Chuck.”

  “Excuse me, it’s mycar,”Jamie said withanair of resignation.

  “Ohhh yeah. So, you can ride with Jamie and me or Chuck.”

  “I’llpass, thanks. I need to—”

  “You haven’t left this house in weeks, Gary. You didn’t accept anyone’s Thanksgiving invitations, either. It’s just not natural.” Fran stood, looking very matronly withher hands onher hips.

  “I’ve gone out. Went grocery shopping and everything.”

  “Right, whatever. Pick your poison: Jamie or Chuck.”

  “I can drive, ifI decide to go.”Gary cast a glance over at Chuck, who was fussingwithhis fiddle case and makinga show ofstayingout ofthe discussion.

  There was a pause that went on too long and ended withGarylookingover at Fransuspiciously. She, on the other hand, was staring at Jamie, who was meticulously wrapping up cords and would be doing so for at least the next fifteenminutes.

  “You know what? I’ll ride with Chuck,” she announced and turned around, picking up her banjo case as she walked out the door. “Youcomin’?”

  Surprised, Chuck grabbed his fiddle case and gave Garya guiltylook as he ranout after her.

  Gary worked on putting things away as Jamie slowly, carefully packed up. Gary generally did not notice how long it took Jamie to pack up his keyboard equipment, as often Fran was helping and making distractions. Now Gary puttered around, trying not to act impatient while Jamie finally got everything together. Before he picked up anything, he looked at Gary.

  “Are you going like that?” He waved a hand up and down, clearlyindicatingGary’s “ensemble.”

  “Uh… I’mnot going.”

  Jamie rolled his eyes. “Please. You’ve been lookinghangdogfor weeks.”

  “I have? Wait, no I haven’t.”

  Jamie glared. “At least change your shirt.”

  “No. I mean, I’mnot going….”

  The conversation continued in that vein as Jamie harassed him into changing his shirt, putting on some cologne, and helpinghimcarryout his equipment.

  “Look, I can drive myself.” Gary was continuing his protests more as a matter offormbythat point.

  “No reason to. Fran lives further back fromhere. She can drive you home,” Jamie said flatly. It was clear to Gary by then that Fran’s decision to leave Gary in Jamie’s tender loving care was a tactical decision. The thin, delicately boned man was as intractable as a brick wall.

  Which was how Gary ended up in the parking lot at Brunhilde’s, assuring Jamie that he looked fine as they walked around to the Lower Forty. The stage was already occupied by another high-school-student bluegrass group, proficient and earnest if uninspired. Jamie threaded through tables to one over by the back wall near the stage where Fran, her boyfriend Teddy, Chuck, and a few others were already holed up with beers and laughter. Chuck gave him a polite nod, then turned back to his discussion with someone Gary did not recognize. There was a flurry of introductions by Fran, and even sober Gary knew he would be lucky to remember anyone’s name.

  The night progressed as most Thursday nights did, the local bands giving way to the familiar jam sessionbyeleven, withallthe familiar players wandering on and off the stage with instruments. This time, Fran stayed onstage for most of the night, coming down only during breaks to make out with Teddy or have another beer. Jamie sat among his cousins and made cryptic conversation about business and gossip, which Gary was glad to not be a part of. Teddy seemed to have been charged with babysitting duty, and gamely kept engaging Gary in conversation. Chuck spoke up a few times when he was taking a break fromplaying, joining them or wrapping them into another conversation across the table, and it was all so friendly and casual and normal that Gary had no choice but to get drunk and block the whole experience out.

  Nonetheless, it was obviously not much of a secret in town anymore that Gary was a professional musician and working on a solo album after a “successful career up North,” which he thought might be the North Carolina equivalent of “big in Japan.” He was the object of scrutiny and questions and was kept busy with both, mostly from the high schoolers and the just-graduated high schoolers. This seemed to amuse Chuck when he noticed, which in turn caused Gary to order another beer.

  Finally Fran had him cut off, long before he was really drunk, and when he complained she just told him it was a longwalk home for himondark roads, ifhe got obnoxious about it. Teddy laughed and promised not to leave himstranded, whichgot himcuffed onthe back of his head byFran.

  By the time the session was wrapping up, Gary’s goldenglow ofanalcoholbuzzwas startingto fade, and his exhaustion kicked in. Once the clapping died down and the few remaining musicians started packing, Gary tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He startled out of his slight daze when someone started shaking him.

  “Hey, sleepyhead—time to go home.”

  Gary looked up at Chuck, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

  Chuck hefted his fiddle case. “Fran ended up a little too drunk, so Teddy wrapped her up and took her home.” Gary smirked at that, remembering the way she kept trying to fondle Teddy while sitting on his lap,
earlier. Then he remembered that she was his ride home.

  “Damnit, that was myride.”He slowlystood up.

  Chuck nodded. “Was. But I got the short straw. Come on.” Chuck turned and headed out. Gary paused for a moment but did not really have much choice other thanto ask a complete stranger at the bar for a ride. He followed and climbed into Chuck’s truck when he unlocked it.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. I’msober and you’re stranded; we make a great couple.”

  Gary snorted embarrassingly, which quickly progressed to laughing out loud. After a moment Chuck joined him, and they just sat in the cab of the truck until the laughter reduced to giggling snorts, the kind Gary only made when he was well and truly stress-free. The mood relaxed after that, the ride turning quiet as they meandered through local roads back to Gary’s house. He watched the dark scenery of night pass by without really registering any of it, so he ended up surprised when Chuck pulled up to the front porch. The lone, wimpy porch light looked dimeven in the deep of night, casting weak shadows over the stairs. Gary unsnapped his seat belt, thenturned to saygood-bye to Chuck, but froze when Chuck framed his face with both hands and kissed him. Gary put his hands on the edges of their seats to keep his balance, losing himself in the warm, wet feel of Chuck’s mouth. He groaned a little, not moving either away or forward. Eventually Chuck peeled himselfoffbut kept Gary’s face inhis hands.

  “It’s not what you want. I know… but I….” Chuck shook his head, frustrated, and began kissing himagain instead. This time Gary leaned into it, moving one hand up to brace against Chuck’s thigh. “Let me in. Gary, fuck, don’t leave me out here,” Chuck whispered against his lips, and Gary was gone. He knew it was a bad idea, objectively, and he really did have the best of intentions. They all slipped out of his fingers as Chuck wrapped one hand around the back of Gary’s neck, drawinghimcloser.