Gregg is in there, sitting on the chair by the window with his euphonium. He has the valve caps unscrewed and is in the middle of oiling them.
When he catches sight of me, he sets the instrument aside and asks, “Is something the matter, dear?”
I give a hefty sigh and plop myself onto the bed. “Well, a few things, but… first of all, I just saw our daughter crying for the first time in years.”
“Is that so?” he asks. “It was only a few months ago for me. Specifically, the day that Zoe left her parents’ house.”
“It must be something about Zoe, then,” I observe. “I’ve been trying to reconnect with her since everything went down, but I find that it’s hard to talk to her; I never get any feedback. But Zoe can get to her, somehow…”
“They do seem to be good for one another,” he agrees. “Which is miraculous, given that it was essentially an impulsive high school romance…”
“Well, just because a relationship is impulsive doesn’t mean that it won’t work out,” I reason. “You and I are proof of that, aren’t we?”
He chuckles. “Indeed. Hmm, that brings me back…”
----------------------------------------
It is a most pleasant Friday morning. The other band members are sleeping in right now, but I chose to take a trip down to the local Hastings and browse through the music section. There is almost nobody here, perhaps because it is so early. Now that I have finished my leisurely browse, I make my way over to checkout.
There are not many employees here, either. Only one checkout lane is open. The attendant is a woman, who looks to also be college age. She is very pretty. Her hair is naturally red and hangs down neatly to below her shoulders. The morning sun coming in through the front windows gives it a mesmerizing glint. I think she’s someone I may want to get to know a little.
“Good morning,” I greet, as I set my two selected CD cases down on the counter.
“Mornin’,” she replies sleepily. I watch her face as she scans my items. Foxtrot - I wanted to see what the digitally remastered version was like- and Kind of Blue . Her bleary eyes open slightly more when she sees Kind of Blue , and she stops for a moment.
“You like jazz?” she asks.
“I sure do. Are you familiar with that album?”
“Yeah. Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Cannonball Adderley, Paul Chambers, Bill Evans, and Jimmy Cobb.”
“Correct. I already own it on vinyl, but I wanted something to listen to in the car.”
“Good man. I don’t care if it’s obsolete, vinyl has the best sound. Nothing’s going to change that.”
She finally scans the bar and sets it into the bag with Foxtrot. I look to the right- nobody is around. Nobody to be angry if I hold up the line.
“By any chance, miss, are you planning on being at the Denton Arts and Jazz Festival tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes! Are you?”
“I sure am. I will be performing with the UC-Berkeley Jazz Ensemble.”
Her eyes are fully open now. “Pretty well-known jazz program there, right?”
“I suppose so. We’ve graduated Branford and Delfeayo Marsalis, Roy Hargrove, Quincy Jones, Ingrid Jenson, and Toshiko Akiyoshi, to name just a few.”
“Composer of ‘Hiroshima: Rising From the Ashes’?”
“The very same.”
“You had that all memorized?”
“Yep.”
“What’s your major there? Jazz?”
“Yep.”
There’s a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m attending TCU right now. I’m doing music education.”
“Very respectable.”
“I love jazz, though. I hope I get hired somewhere with a program. What do you play?”
“Trombone.”
“Nice. I’m a sax player myself.”
“Who’s your favorite player?”
“Oh, I don’t know… I love Coltrane. Recently, I’ve been listening to Sonny Rollins.”
There’s a brief pause. She fumbles around a bit as she tries to finally log my order. I think I got her.
“When are you playing tomorrow?” she asks.
“11 AM. Celebration Stage.”
“Cool… I think I’ll try and go watch.”
“That would be excellent. I appreciate it.”
She grins at me, a little bit of pink in her cheeks. “See you tomorrow, then.”
“See you. By the way… what is your name?”
“Alyssa.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Gregg.”
----------------------------------------
Alyssa snickers. “Wow, I can’t believe the source of our original bonding was because we were the two biggest dorks on the planet.”
“I had always hoped to someday meet a woman who can truly appreciate art in its more complex and abstract forms,” I confess. “I have never stopped being grateful that I got one…”
“Oh, hush you!” she says, blushing. “I’ll tell the next part of the story, I remember it quite well…”
----------------------------------------
The Celebration Stage is in a nice, open grassy area, somewhat removed from the rest of the festival. It’s near what appears to be some sort of city hall building, which is currently deserted.
The UC-Berkeley band is dressed in all black. Gregg is sitting second from the left in the trombone row, in the lead bone position. He looks pretty dashing in his button up, and he seems to have used some hairspray for the occasion. I occasionally glance at him during the performance. I wonder if he sees me in the crowd? I’m sitting on the ground in my best pair of denim, a green sleeved crop top, and a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses. Usually not my thing, but I want to look trendy for today.
In the third tune, he has a solo. It’s a tune I hadn’t heard before. It has a hard rock beat, and an intense sound, as it utilizes a lot of half-step chord changes. He plays his solo with such power… it’s not what you’d expect from such a soft-spoken man. It’s amazing how someone’s personality can change when you put an instrument to their face.
After the concert, I decide to go meet him backstage to see if he recognizes me from yesterday.
The scene I am met with is quite interesting. I see various band members putting away their instruments, the cases scattered across the field. I see Gregg putting away his trombone next to a blonde girl I recognize as the lead trumpet player, who… appears to be in the middle of getting high. I don’t know what she’s smoking, but I’m certain it’s illegal. Hopefully it’s just weed. She’s really, really beautiful, with flowing blonde hair and such a nice figure. She looks like she should be modelling for Playboy, not playing lead trumpet.
As I get closer, I hear that the two are embroiled in conversation.
“…hope that nobody sees you,” Gregg is saying. “You’ve got a real future, Sarah. You don’t want to throw it away while you’re still in college.”
“Eh, it’s a jazz festival. Nobody cares,” Sarah says in her defense. Still holding her trumpet in her other hand, she takes another hit.
Gregg finishes putting his horn up and looks up and notices me. I see his eyes briefly pause before reaching my face- yes! That’s a score.
“Oh! Alyssa, wasn’t it? Thank you for coming out.”
“You’re welcome. You guys did amazing. I really liked your solo.”
“Thank you very much for that.”
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.
“Hmm, so you know this girl?” Sarah interjects into the conversation. “Looks like your luck is finally gonna pick up again…”
“This is my friend, Sarah,” Gregg says, gesturing at her. “She’s quite a skilled trumpet player.”
“Oh yes, I heard her,” I say. “You sounded radical.”
“Oh, no I didn’t. I could’ve done a much better show than that,” she laments, sighing.
“Anyways… I’m going to go put my horn back in the van. When I am done with that, you are welcome to come with me.”
“Ooh, yes… I would like that,” I say. He grins at me, and then makes his way to the parking lot.
I stand there smiling like an idiot for a few seconds, but then I notice the sound of someone giggling behind me…I turn around and see a pretty black girl with wavy hair stuffing some drum sticks into a bag.
“May I help you?” I ask, annoyed, but also blushing a bit despite myself.
“Well… if you’re interested in that guy, uh… good luck. That’s all I’ll say.”
I frown at her. “Um, I didn’t ask, but thanks.”
“Come on now, Yvonne. Don’t hold a grudge- this girl might just be his type.” I turn to my right to see yet another woman accosting me. This one is a brunette who’s holding nothing but a folder. She’s pretty average looking and is wearing a very heavy amount of make-up which makes me expect she doesn’t play a wind instrument.
“Am I supposed to be taking that as a compliment, or an insult?” I ask her, bristling.
“Oh, don’t be so defensive,” she scolds me, shaking her head. “Yvonne and I are both exes of Gregg there. It didn’t work out for us, but… you seem like a small-town girl, am I right? Perhaps somewhat of a rebel, or at least that’s what you say?”
“You don’t know anything about me. Although yes, I grew up in a small town called Thorndale,” I admit.
“I see… well, perhaps you’re exactly the kind of simpleminded girl who is perfect for our Gregg…”
“Simple-minded, huh? Well, if you’re so sure you’re smarter than me, how’s your GPA doing? Mine’s currently hovering around a 3.8…”
Apparently, her GPA isn’t very good, because she glares at me for this. “No need to take everything so personally. I just mean that Gregg is pretty stubborn with his beliefs. And quite preachy… but go ahead. You’ll probably have an easier time getting along with him than someone like me.” With that, she makes her leave of me, the girl named Yvonne following her out. I catch them whispering to each other as they walk away…
I glance back at Sarah the lead trumpetist. She hasn’t moved an inch; she’s just been standing there watching that little argument with great amusement, still getting stoned.
“Um… so, what exactly did this guy do to get these girls so angry?” I ask her.
Sarah chuckles. “Oh, don’t worry, Gregg is a great guy. They just had a… strong clash of ideology. But if you’re not a free lover or a communist, you should have better luck.”
I laugh out loud. I feel so stupid that I was actually worried for a moment. I’m certainly neither of those things, so I’m not gonna stress it at all.
Anyways, Gregg returns from putting his horn up, and we awkwardly set out to travel the fair. We go on to have an incredible day together. Listening to more jazz… talking more about jazz… eating funnel cake... looking through the art gallery… then, of course, we go to the Showcase Stage to watch the legendary UNT One o’ Clock Lab Band. Like the rest of the festival, there aren’t really any chairs, but there is a sort of strange cement structure near the stage that people can sit on. Due to the tight space, we have to sit with our thighs touching…
After it is over, we decide to go find a nice place away from the crowd. By this time, it is dark out.
“Oh, that was simply incredible,” he remarks as we walk.
“Oh yeah. The experience of a lifetime.”
“I have heard them many times on recordings, but live… it’s a totally new experience.”
“Oh yeah. You can’t beat live.”
We arrive at a fairly secluded little spot, in between an unused civic building and a tree.
“Hey… let’s stop here for a minute,” I suggest, trying not to sound too nervous or excited.
“Okay.”
He slides down the brick until he is sitting in the grass. I sit sideways across his lap and we lock arms. I feel like I’m about to start shaking…
“It’s been really nice hanging out with you today,” he tells me.
“Yes… It has been very nice.”
He just kind of sits there and grins at me. Not much of an instigator, huh?
Trying to be braver than I felt, I lean forward and kiss him on the lips.
He’s actually pretty good. It’s been so long since I’ve kissed someone. The last time was… the last time I saw…
I involuntarily back away. Something must have shown on my face, because he asks me, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve done this.”
“It’s been a little while for me too, now that I think of it.”
“I haven’t had a boyfriend since high school. I was with this boy named Lucas… he was so smart, so passionate about helping the world, and fighting against evil… but he also had some serious mental problems. I tried to get him to get help, but…”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear about this.”
“Oh no, I don’t mind. I have my fair share of regrets in life, trust me.”
We’re quiet for a moment.
“I really do like you,” he tells me. “It’s just… you know. It’s a shame that…”
“We live in different states. Yeah.”
“Well… I do graduate in a month,” he says. “I could be talked into coming down here…”
However, I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to live in Texas for a little while.”
“Oh? Is that so?”
“Yeah.”
“May I ask why?”
I let out a hefty sigh. How can I explain it…? I shouldn’t tell him everything just now. But I need to impress on him that it’s important for me to disappear for a little while.
“Just… too many bad memories down here,” I tell him, which is true. “I’m not on great terms with my family, and my friends have all… scattered to the wind. There’s nothing left for me here. I’ll come with you, back to California.”
“Hmm… are you going to be finishing your degree this semester as well?”
“No… I still have one more year, in theory.”
He gets stern with me. “Hold on there, Alyssa. I know we’ve been going 0 to 90 today, and I’m mostly okay with that… but you should not abandon your education just to run off with me. I’m not worth that. Stay one more year and finish, then you can leave if you wish.”
Damn it...how can I get him to understand?
“No, I’m leaving after this semester. I already decided, this isn’t just because of you. I can’t be here any longer. No matter what, I’m going to be leaving the state for somewhere. You might as well tell me where you’re going to be living after college.”
“I can’t imagine what is making you want to skip finishing your degree. Think about your career prospects.”
“I don’t need a degree to gig.”
“But working in education is much steadier. Why would you…”
I can’t hold it back anymore. Before I can stop myself, I’m crying.
When he sees that I am, he stops talking. After a few moments, he wraps an arm around me uncertainly. “Alyssa…?”’
I take a few deep breaths and start to talk quickly. “Look, I know that this sounds really stupid. I don’t expect you to understand. But I just… have to get out of here. I have to.
“I grew up with very… controlling parents. And it was a very deeply religious household. And, you know… that can be a really good thing, I think… I don’t know where you lie as far as that stuff goes… but there’s just some aspects of their personal philosophies which I just… Can’t. Accept.”
I look at him, trying to see his reaction. He looks very… thoughtful.
“I… was also raised in a pretty religious household. I regret to say that I’ve fallen off a bit in college. But… I can imagine what you mean.”
“I just… I can’t accept that I was put on this Earth for the sole purpose of plopping out a few kids, then spending the rest of my life cleaning a house… I just feel it innately that I was meant for something more. Not that there’s anything wrong with family life, but…”
“I agree. I think you were absolutely meant for something more than that,” Gregg says. “You’re a very remarkable woman.”
“Thank you.”
“And you know, I don’t believe anybody should have their life path decided for them… especially based on things like that. Not by other humans, at least.”
“Yes. I’m so glad that you understand me.”
“And you know… I too have some… well, there’s room for… in certain parts of the…”
He seems to have lost his train of thought. He just stares at the tree for a while, with a vacant expression.
“…Well, I shouldn’t say any more,” he says at last. “Anyways… if you’re dead set on leaving… you can come and find me. I’m planning on living in a little city called Concord, a bit further upstate. It’s in a location that is close to a few different major urban centers, so there will be plenty of performance opportunities. I already have an apartment shopped out… Do you have a pencil and paper?”
I take out a notepad I carry around in my purse and hand it to him. He writes down an address.
“Thank you… thank you so much,” I tell him. “I know this is really fast, but…”
But what? Somehow, I just really feel like doing this is the right thing, as illogical as it seems. Maybe it’s the Holy Spirit. Maybe it’s just my own delusions. I suppose only time will tell.
“Well, in that case… I guess I may be seeing you soon,” he tells me. “But goodbye for now… unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless… you’d like to stay here and enjoy the night a little while longer?”
I grin at him. “Yeah… I’d like that.”
I get back onto his lap, but this time, I put my knees on either side of him and face straight towards him.
I meet his lips once again. Again, he is a pretty good kisser. I put my hands on his shoulders. He puts his on my hips, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and then…
----------------------------------------
“Okay dear, you can stop there,” Gregg cuts in, going red in the face at the memory.
“Hehe, sorry hon. Got carried away,” I admit. “Oh, to be young and vicarious again…”
We both sit in our respective spots and space out, reliving old memories… before long, however, my mind drifts back to Ellen, and the picture of us that Ashley showed.
I was in such a rush to get away from the pain… and because of that, I missed out on the opportunity to ever make things right with her. I can’t really say I totally regret it, because I’m very happy to be with Gregg… but I’m never going to be able to get closure on what could’ve happened with Ellen and I. I suppose I should just forget about it, but I can’t help but to feel that would be disrespectful to her memory…
There’s one thing I can do, at least. I can’t let a distance like that form in my own family. Maybe sometime soon, I’ll sit down and talk with Zoe one on one… she seems to know how to get to my daughter better than I can, somehow.
----------------------------------------
My studying has been interrupted by the most interesting occurrence… my Skype account, which is usually quiet, got a ping, and it was a message from Lilyana Kuznetsov, whom I have not talked to in years. The purpose of this contact was to raise awareness of a serious threat at my school; a teacher who seems to be planning to seduce and/or rape a student. There is a link to a Tumblr blog in which the teacher posted about their plans.
Concerned, I carefully deliberated over the contents of the post and the blog itself, and I must say that there are some very odd things about this case. At first glance, it seems to be cut and dry; this teacher has a serious mental health issue and has chosen to act it out, and was also incompetent enough to publicly brag about their plans. They will likely be quickly tracked by the police and arrested before they can do anything.
And yet, something about the very specific way the post is worded doesn’t add up to me. So I decided to dig a little deeper. I used some web tools to find out that the blog itself was created the very day of the post. There is no way of knowing if the email address associated with the blog was also created that day. And finally, it is very odd that Lilyana would have already discovered this blog after only existing for less than 48 hours before she sent me the message. I can’t shake the feeling that there is more to this than meets the eye… but, I need more proof to confirm my theory.
On my own, I doubt there is much I can do to get such proof… but, perhaps I can kill two birds with one stone, and use this opportunity to gain insight into a certain other mystery that has been nagging at me recently. A certain small group of students at my school seem to be a fan of a neo-pagan conspiracy tale about a group called “The Thieves In The Night,” who would use supernatural means to bring out social reform. It seems as if this group of students believe that this group is real and that they can replicate its results. Of course, there is no evidence to suggest that they can, but nonetheless it will be interesting to find out how they react to learning about this pedophile teacher, and perhaps in their dedication to the cause they can discover if there is a deeper story to this. I plan to play a game with them to find out just this, and I will watch them closely to see what they do… perhaps they will lead me to some more solid clues that prove my suspicions.