G is for Gobi

The alarm going off like the final bell in a cage match brought her nightly ten rounds fighting with insomnia to an end. Jazz congratulated herself on not sagging on the ropes at 3:00 and picking up her phone to surf social media.  By avoiding the glowing screen of uselessness, she managed at least two dream cycles, so at least three hours of actual sleep in the last ten hours. Sure, she was exhausted, a perpetual state, but her eyes did not feel like someone had crammed the Gobi desert into her orbs.

She swiped the phone off before her wake up song repeated, the Good Morning Song from Barney and Friends, guaranteed to drive her to sit up and move. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Jazz reached for her stabilizing quad-cane. She hated it as much as her morning alarm, but it served its purpose. While it took as much energy to use as walking without it, she hadn’t fallen once since she started using it around the house. She just never expected to be cane-bound at thirty-four, let alone needed the stupid push chair-walker anytime she left the house.

The insurance wouldn’t sign off on a scooter yet, and she didn’t know if she was grateful or angry about that.

Jazz hobbled over to where she had laid out clothes two days ago. Today was a big day, and she wanted it to be perfect. Ignoring the pain in her joints, she pulled off the oversized t-shirt she had slept in and lived in since she got home from shopping Tuesday. Leaning on the ladder chair beside her clothes table, she changed underwear without fully sitting down. After tucking her phone under her bra strap, she rested under the guise of studying the two choices she had set out for shirts.

One had buttons and fit her perfectly. The other was overlarge but slipped over her head in one move. Jazz tested her range of motion. Her fingers didn’t flex well, but she was able to raise one arm to shoulder height. Loose black blouse would be today’s outfit; she had hoped on Thursday for the button-down. She hadn’t be able to wear the turquoise embroidered linen in over a year. She should probably give up on it and donate it to Goodwill or the Kidney Foundation before it went completely out of fashion, but she loved that shirt.

The black skirt pulled on easier than the blouse, after which she sat on the tall step stool and recovered, going over what else she needed to get done before noon. Hair, make-up, jewelry, breakfast, charge phone, wrap a present. She had meant to get the present wrapped yesterday but a pain flare had ended the attempt.

Hair next. No, breakfast first. If she didn’t get to her hair, she could still go, but no breakfast will kill the entire day.

Jazz looked over at the breakfast bar and drink she kept on her nightstand for those days she couldn’t make it out of bed. Gritting her teeth, she stood, turned her back on the bed and room she spent too much time in, and went to her breakfast nook to eat like a civilized person.

On the blond wood table, bright in mid-morning sunshine, stood a box of blueberry breakfast bars, small plastic bottles of grape juice, and her box of pills for the week. The first week box for the month was behind the used drink bottles and breakfast bar wrappers waiting for her once-every-two weeks visit from the state subsidized care-giver to refill since her fingers couldn’t manage organizing pills anymore. In the middle of the table was the result of her struggle to wrap the baby shower present with real paper before the pain had disabled her.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Marathon Party (G to M)
4/8/2019 – G is for Gobi
4/9/2019 – H is for Horse
4/10/2019 – I is for Sherbet
4/11/2019 – J is for Jazz
4/12/2019 – K is for Keeper
4/13/2019 – L is for Loss
4/15/2019 – M is for Marathon

F is for Finish

There were so many instruments in the room to explore and James went from one to another; except the mouth instruments, Mom said you don’t share those. He stopped when he realized he had been hearing his mom’s call tone on his tablet for a while. Opening the case, James swiped the tablet to see his mom’s face.

“You okay! Are you okay sweetheart!” His mom’s panicked face filled the screen.

“Yes Mom.” James looked down at his tablet.

“Why aren’t you at home?”

“I went to a job interview.”

“A what?”

A smile spread over James face. He had surprised her. “A job interview.”

“Where is it? How did you get there? Are you okay? Do I need to come?” Question after question came faster than James could answer, so he froze staring down at his mom until she realized what she had done and stopped to breathe.

After a long inhale and exhale, James knew his mom had done her reset and he didn’t have to answer anything she had just asked. He waited for the questions he needed to answer. “Where are you?”

“I’m at 439 West Franklin Avenue.”

“That’s halfway across town!”

James smiled again, and his mom smiled softly back at the rare expression. “I took the bus on my own.”

His mom brought a hand to her mouth, pressing her fist against her lips.

“If I may?” A deep voice interrupted. James had forgotten Mr. Hartgrove was there.

“Who are you?” His mother asked when the large man’s head came over James’ shoulder.

“The Duke. Owner of a recording studio downtown, Pickin and Strummin. Just thought to let you know I will be hiring James here as a studio musician.”

“You … ah.” His mother inhaled and exhaled again. “You know he has … special needs.”

“Yeah, Miles Hammer walked me through a few things and I know I’m going to need to learn a bit more, but it will be worth it.” Mr. Hartgrove put his hand on James’ shoulder who quickly stepped away and turned to face the man, backing away further. The man wiped his face before muttering, “Yep, need to learn a few things.” After shaking his head, Mr. Hartgrove pulled back his shoulders, standing bigger and wider than ever before. “Can you turn the screen around so I can talk to … your mother?”

“Yes.” James said, doing as the man asked, but not coming any closer.

“Sorry by the way. The Hammer told me not to touch you or the tablet. My bad.” Mr. Hartgrove spread his arms wide, before nodding to the screen. “Mrs. Cohn?”

“Yes?” The woman’s eyes bounced around the room now showing.

“We need to talk. Your son just played some of the best damn rainbow I have ever heard, over four hours without repeat and on every damn thing I got here. I want him. I can’t pay him much and it will be mostly part-time gigs and nothing outside of the studio, but it will be honest work.” The Duke shrugged, for most people what he and his company could offer was insulting unless they bled music.”If he is okay with it, I’ll drive him home and we can talk over dinner. I’ll have Miles meet us there?”

“I took the bus here.” James said.

“Which mean he needs to take the bus home,” his mom explained from the screen.

“Alright, I got to close up shop and get things together, anyway. How about I meet you at seven? Wherever you are comfortable. I’ll bring Chinese or pizza.”

“Stuffed crust pizza, with mushroom and pepperoni but no olives or sausage. Tomato sauce. It isn’t pizza unless it has red sauce. “

Duke looked up at the kid holding the screen. “Alright, pizza it is. Any particular chain?”

The End

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish

Next story: Marathon Party (G to M)

E is for Eclectic

“Alright boy. Miles the Hammer said you got chops and dragged me out to your senior concert last month. You were good, but not great. Everything was technically perfect, but no heart. I was unhappy and let the Hammer know.”

James sat and stared. He knew pauses meant people wanted a response, except when they didn’t. He wasn’t sure if Mr. Hartgrove wanted a response or not.

“Nothing to say?”

The word went up at the end, so James recognized it as a question. It was a question he heard a lot. Mom had taught him the proper answer is always, “No sir.” It saved her from having a lot of problems to solve later.

“Alright. Good enough.” The man spilled over the sides of his stool and towered over James even sitting down. “Well, the Hammer said you got heart, you just wanted everything to be right for the concert. Now sometimes I’m going to want everything to be technically correct when we do backup work and I will let you know when that happens. But right now, I’m going to want you to play with your heart. You understand?”

James thought, looking down at his tablet. After several moments, the three bells went off when the music changed. Mr. Hartgrove had not interrupted his thinking, but the bells reminded James he needed to do something. “I need to answer the question.”

“That would be helpful.”

The words were lighter, higher than the previous words Mr. Hartgrove had been saying, which meant an emotional change, but James couldn’t guess at it. He wanted to ask, like he did with Mr. Hammer and Miss Grace, to understand, but he wasn’t sure if he could do that during the interview. Mr. Hammer said to answer questions, not ask them. “You understand.” James repeated. “Oh, you want me to play rainbow.” He looked up quickly then returned his eyes to the screen.

“Play rainbow? What do you mean by that?”

Speaking to the floor, James tried to remember how Mr. Hammer explained things to him. “Notes on the music. Those are rain. Lots of things falling together. Boring since you get stuck in places. But you have to learn to play the notes right, because sometimes you need rain for things to grow. To grow as a musician, you have to learn how to play rain. But once you have learned the rain, the sun can come out and you can add the rainbow. Each person pays a different rainbow, so you can’t do that in concerts. Not concerts with others. Concerts are for rain, but playing by yourself, that is rainbow time.”

“Alright, I get that.” The black man stood. “Let’s go into the studio and have you play a rainbow.” He pressed a few buttons. “I’m going to record it so I can listen it to it later. Let’s go.” Mr. Hartgrove led James to room with padding and even more instruments, including an upright piano.

The large man picked up a guitar and plucked a few notes, checking the tuning. While he did that, James unslung the case on his back, flipped it over from the guitar shape to the violin side and lifted out the smooth wood instrument and his bow. He placed the tablet in standby mode, then into the padding, and closed the case.

“Not much call for violin here, but then I don’t have anyone who can play it well.” Mr. Hartgrove set aside the guitar in his hands. “Alright, let’s hear it.”

Thinking about the uniform man downstairs, James started with some hot jazz he had on his tablet repeat and followed it with a pop song he thought worked better on the fiddle than the electric guitar. Enjoying himself, he set aside the violin and went over to the upright. There he did a Sousa march to test out the sound before seguing into a honkeytonk.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish

D is for Duke

James racked his brain for the other times he had gotten on elevators. His parents avoided them since he was prone to meltdowns in small spaces, but when he was younger, they had him push buttons. James looked at the buttons. Fourth floor. Fourth is four. So … push the four? After pressing the number, it lit with an orange glow and the lift started rising.

When the doors opened, he stepped out into an area with four sets of doors again, but a different carpet and an open space either side of the door area, both with glass walls and signs with arrows.

The uniform person had said “Pickin and Strummin.” James walked over to each set of signs and read all the words, then he walked back to the first side which had the recording studio name. After reading the words a second time just to be sure, he turned three steps in the direction of the arrow and walked down the hall. After seven paces, a metal post in the middle of the hall held up a paper with the studio’s name and a picture of a guitar and a fiddle. Plus another arrow pointing to a set of glass doors with the name of the company painted on them.

He made it. Even without instructions!

Looking at his screen, he read the instructions to the point where he had run into trouble. “Go through the doors.” Relief flooded him to be back on track.

There was a woman sitting behind the desk. “Hello, Mrs. Banko.” Handing the sour-faced receptionist the tablet wasn’t any easier than it had been with the uniform man, but he managed to do it the second time in a single day. He leaned forward a little, since the receptionist was sitting down and he still hadn’t taken out the earbuds. Three bell tones went off between songs, reminding him to pay attention and see if he had lost track of things. James was very pleased he didn’t need the reminder to pay attention to the world around him. He was doing it!

“Ah, Miles’ protegee. Go on back, the Duke is waiting to hear you play.” She slapped the tablet into his outstretched hand, startling James.

“Wh…where?” He looked around the room, fighting not to rock. Mr. Hammer said not to rock during the interview, except to music.

“Oh for goodness sakes.” Mrs. Banko huffed. “You better be worth it.” The woman stood, and plowed around several chairs, dodged some boxes, and went down a barely lit hallway.

Inhaling deeply, James whispered his magic words and followed.

“Jim Cohn is here,” the receptionist yelled as she opened the door to the very large black man in front of an incredibly large bank of buttons, levers, and lights. The man was not brown like James or his father or Mr. Krick or Mr. Hammer where light reflected back a warm yellow or orange. He was a black so deep James only saw blue where light from the bare bulbs hit. Turning back to the young man behind her, Mrs. Banko ordered, “Next time you come back here on your own, look over the door before coming in. If it is red, you wait. Maybe press the button. If it is green, you can go in.”

“I…I.” James froze under her hostility and unclear instructions.

“Marge, that is enough. Get.” The resounding bass filled the space and rolled over James, tightening his fears with its firmness.

“Well I never!” The woman stomped to the door and slammed it shut.

The black man, Mr. Hartgrove, waved James to come over. “Don’t mind Marge. She is always like that.”

“I…” James quivered, pulling his tablet to his chest.

“Ah.” The owner stilled and rearranged his face. When he spoke again, the voice was just as deep, but kind and slow. “We will need to work with her if we hire you. Can you come over here and sit in this chair beside me?”

“Yes.” James walked carefully around the cables, instruments, and parts of instruments to sit on the ripped vinyl top of the stool.

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish

C is for Courage

The song changed, reminding him to move forward. He pressed open the doors and entered the lobby. “Talk to the receptionist. Show her the screen. She will need to touch it.”

James shuddered at the last instruction. The tablet was a part of him. Touching it was like touching him.

He approached the desk in the lobby. “Hello, Mrs. Banko.” The man sitting behind the desk in a uniform looked up in surprise.

A man was where Mrs. Banko should be. Not knowing what else to do, James offered the man his tablet. The man couldn’t pull it very far, since James hadn’t taken out his earbuds, and he raised his eyebrows before looking down at the screen. Seeing the long list of instructions, each highlighted in turn, the security officer quickly read through them.

“Ah, you want Pickin and Strummin. They are on the fourth floor. The elevators are to your right.”

James froze. That hadn’t been in the instructions. “I…I…” He started rocking.

“You a musician, kid?”

A question. He is suppose to answer questions of people in uniform. “Yes.”

“What do you play?” The security guard handed back the tablet, which James grabbed and pressed into his chest.

“Guitar, and violin, and saxophone, and piano.” He could play many more instruments than that, but Mr. Hammer had told him to give that answer for the interview. James like the dulcimer a lot, but Mr. Hammer said there wasn’t much call for that as a background musician.

“Maybe we can jam sometime. They let me up there after my shift if no one has rented time. You do jazz?”

“Yes. I play everything, but jazz is nice.” James bit his lip. “I like ragtime on the piano and smooth for the sax.”

“Haven’t done much with ragtime myself, but it would be fun to try with my bone. They got an upright.” The guard moved over to the phone. “I’ll ring them and let them know you are coming up.”

“Okay.” James took a long inhale and exhale, studying the lobby, finally seeing the sign pointing to the elevators. He looked at his screen for instructions, but they weren’t there. “Adapt. Improvise. Overcome.”

The eighteen-year-old followed the arrows to a place with four sets of doors and buttons aiming up only. He pressed the button and one of the sets of doors immediately opened. James walked into the small room, turned around in three small steps until he faced the closing doors and waited. Nothing happened.

What was he suppose to do next?

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

4/1/2019 – A is for Adapt
4/2/2019 – B is for Bus
4/3/2019 – C is for Courage
4/4/2019 – D is for Duke
4/5/2019 – E is for Eclectic
4/6/2019 – F is for Finish