The Orchestra - Sinfónia Lifsins - 4. Awaited

The apocalypse came on Friday. The bastard was on heat and our table did not appreciate it. At rehearsal our director announced the new leader would arrive on Tuesday. Until then I had been able to hope this whole travesty would end with none of the candidates being at Arnar’s level, or no candidates showing up at all.

But no; Arnar was definitely not coming back. We were told to watch the news on Saturday night to know what was waiting for us. The replacement would be on TV. Most likely all that publicity was because he was in fact one frightened rookie and Gummi needed to compensate for his lack of talent by making a huge propaganda of us.

“Tomorrow, then… Can we trust Gummi this time?” Later we were home watching TV because there was nothing better to do.

“First he said we would know in two weeks. Two weeks was three days ago. Maybe this time when he says tomorrow he means Monday!” Gísli shouted because he did not know the meaning of the word “quiet”. It must be a requirement to become a timpani player. He was probably partially deaf already, sitting everyday so close to the trumpets and banging on oversized drums all the time.

“I bet the new guy is the Greek God of Perfect Handsomeness, and the only reason Gummi is not telling us about him is because he wants to keep the gold to himself a bit longer!” The bastard felt the need to give his opinion in the same volume, using his enthusiasm to get suspiciously close to me on the sofa.

“Yeah, because Gummi is a perverted homo just like you.”

“Aw, you never complained about me being a perverted homo before! Why are you starting now?” The bastard’s hands worked their way under my shirt and belt. At that moment Karen and Gísli turned away from the TV to face us, because apparently two men making out in the living room were much more interesting than the boring reporter on TV.

(...)

We dutifully watched the late-night news on Saturday. At rehearsal that day the mysterious new guy was all people could talk about. It seemed suddenly everybody had forgotten they were there to play music and were instead in charge of a gossip club. Things like that would not happen if Arnar was in charge. But then, if Arnar was in charge there would be no mysterious bastard to gossip about in the first place.

It was only ten minutes into the news that the thing they all wanted to hear was finally broadcasted. For all the fuss Gummi had made, it should have been the main headline. Had it been that way I would have had another ten whole minutes to do something useful with my life, preferably away from Dmitri’s body. I was definitely not on the mood for the sort of thing he would want to do after drowning the day’s vodka bottle number 2.

“The Iceland Symphony Orchestra has finally announced its new member following the domestic accident that prematurely ended the career of their renowned principal first violin Arnar Sæmundsson.” The woman on the TV announced. Three heads turned towards her in our living room as I looked away. She absolutely had to emphasise what happened to Arnar instead of just saying who the bloody new bastard was. And it got worse from there. “Gunnar Helsson will make history as the youngest ever musician to join the national orchestra at the age of sixteen years, ten months and seventeen days. We met him earlier today…”

So a stupid teenager was replacing the ISO’s leader. Karen cried “cutie” when that kid came into view. He really looked like a kid. Sixteen? Might as well have been twelve. Blond, green-eyed, face covered in freckles and a shy smile; no wonder Karen was all over him already. Even the bastard seemed interested; that paedophile. I left the room before I felt the urge to discharge my rage at the ‘innocent’ television. It would give me nasty bruises. I knew from experience.

(...)

“Hey, man, are you all right?” The bastard came in to end my self-imposed exile. He spoke quietly and approached me carefully, like he was somehow concerned about me. Yet, in five minutes we would be both naked and eating each other’s tongues or anything else that came our way.

“Go away.”

“I can’t. This is my bed too, remember?”

I felt the bastard’s weight fall on the space next to me and his warm hand touching my shoulder. “Go sleep on the sofa.”

“Karen won’t let me. She said I’m not allowed to sleep there anymore because I do bad things to it.” He paused. I could feel his trade-mark grin without having to look at him. “I think you should give the new guy a chance before you get all depressed because they took away your dad and gave you a little brother instead.”

“He is not my little brother, he is a retarded kid.”

“He’s cute. And he’s not even that much younger than you. Weren’t you seventeen when you joined us?” He leaned over me, trying to get me to turn around. He would be more useful if he just disappeared.

“I was different. I was more mature than him. Our circumstances are very different.” I doubt that kid had experienced half the things I had. He looked like he had the perfect life of a fairy tale, and joining the ISO was just another chapter of that world of perfection.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” The bastard was close enough for the stench of his vodka to invade my nostrils. It was giving me nausea. “But I’m serious about this. You have to move on and give the cute guy a chance. Because you know, if I play my cards right we won’t be seeing him just at rehearsal time.”

“You are not thinking of…”

He better not be. The bastard liked the young, but Baby-Face was too much even for him. A guy aged twenty-three had nothing to do with someone who looked half that. Or so I thought.

“Oh, who knows what I have in mind…” he let his statement hanging in the air, looking at me as if expecting the answer he knew I was not about to give. The bastard knew me too damn well. “Good night then, Siggi.” And he turned away. It took only a few minutes for him to fall asleep. No sex, no sucking, no attempts at gagging me with his monster dick. Not that I cared. I was still angry with Gummi for choosing a kid, still angry with that kid for being there, and even angrier with Arnar because he was not there.

Even sleep deserted me that day.

(...)

Nightmare Tuesday came about sooner than it should. Everyone was talking about the little bastard on our way to rehearsal, and nagging me to pretend to be excited at his arrival too. Anywhere I looked they were saying ‘Gunni this’ and ‘Gunni that’ and flowers and butterflies and rainbows of happiness. And I had the sudden urge to slice my throat with my A string.

All that fuss, and the kid managed to be late. Not ‘fashionably late’ like we usually were, but actually late. As to be expected when a kid is entrusted with a serious job. It served Gummi right. Speculations for his delay popped from just about everywhere during the whole hour we sat and waited, doing fuck all because Gummi did not want to start without the ‘leader’. At least they stopped once I spoke.

“Hopefully he realised this job was too much for him and he gave up.” Not long after that the door to the rehearsal room opened and the kid came in, with his cheeks red like the tomatoes that could kill me.

The moment the replacement came into view they flocked towards him as if he had a fucking magnet attached to his face. Gummi shook his hand enthusiastically and the bastard and Karen cooed over him. Slowly they made their way towards me and that unavoidable moment in which we had to look at each other finally came.

“And this is Siggi, our principal cello.” The kid took one look at me and his tomato-face became even redder and brighter.

“H-Hi…” The kid choked rather painfully, unable to take his eyes from me. His body language made his thoughts boringly obvious: he somehow found me attractive enough for his testosterone-filled mind to go into overdrive. It never felt so good to shatter someone’s illusion.

“Hi, replacement. Enjoy your stay with us, but feel free to go crying to mama if you suddenly figure you can’t cope with being a professional. I certainly wouldn’t mind.”

Karen’s jaw dropped; the bastard narrowed his eyes. Gummi actually scowled at me for my manners and apologised to the kid. He also ordered me to stop doing that, or there would be retaliation. I kept my mouth shut from then on, but only because I thought it would be a waste of saliva to talk to the kid again.

(...)

The next four hours seemed to carry on forever. The replacement was better than I thought, but still a far cry from what Arnar had been. He complained his hand was sore after a while, and because he was whining like the kid he really was we had a ridiculously long break. Still, everyone seemed impressed with his performance and left the building irritatingly happy and satisfied with their lives. Karen invited the kid to go out with them, but thankfully he had some other plans with his perfect family. Sthe and the bastard took forever to get back to the car after speaking to the kid, and when they finally did they had suspicious smiles plastered on their faces.

“What are you guys up to?” Gísli noticed the smiles too. The immature children that replaced our housemates made an ‘I’m-not-telling-you-yet’ sort of face, and only after some four or five repeated questions the bastard finally answered.

“I’m planning to have some fun in the upcoming rehearsals. You guys just watch.”

No, I did not want to watch. I wanted to get back home and forget this day had ever happened. I wanted to fuck that bastard’s brains out so that he would forget all about whatever stupidity he was planning next.

Once we finally got home, though, it was Dmitri who fucked my brains out, fuelled by some more vodka. It was easier that way, and it did keep me too busy to think about the little kid until next morning.

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