The Swan of Tuonela - 8. Saturday Night Waltz

Phillip stood at the front of the church, counting to himself. Three flutes and four clarinets in the front row. Four French Horns, then himself, then Rudy, and then the first row of saxes in the second…

“…and so Mike decided to quit his travel agent job and go back to school. He’s going to law school…,” Keith said as he started setting stands in front of the chairs Phillip was arranging. They had both arrived early to help set up for the dress rehearsal.

“Oh, that’s good…,” Phillip said absently, looking at the arrangement of chairs and guessing he had set up enough in each row, based on who he remembered was going to play.

“So is your new boyfriend, what’s his name, Mark, gonna come to the concert?”

“I hope so. He said he had to work until 6:30, but that he’d make it as soon as he could.”

“So I’ll finally get to meet Mr. Adonis,” Keith said, looking over in Phillip’s direction.

“Yeah, maybe. We’ll see,” Phillip said. “There’s not going to be enough room for the timpani. We’ll have to move some chairs.”

People had started straggling in, putting horns together and warming up. A couple of small groups stood out in the hall, talking. Cheryl was sitting in the front pew looking over her scores and conducting silently to herself. Gradually, as 7:30 approached, people started moving to their chairs and sitting down.

“OK,” Cheryl said, stepping up on the podium “We’ll rehearse in concert order, starting with the Bernstein and ending with the Stravinsky.”

When Phillip got home from rehearsal, he walked Siegfried and then headed to the bedroom to change clothes. He and Rudy and some others were meeting for drinks at the Mining Company. As he passed the piano, he noticed the answering machine light was blinking. He hit the buttons and listened as the tape rewound and began to play:

“Hey, it’s me, Mark. I’m on break and only have a few minutes left.” Phillip had to concentrate to hear since there was a lot of background noise and Mark was speaking quickly. “I won’t be able to make it to your rehearsal tonight, but I should be able to make it to the concert. I have to be in early tomorrow morning, so I won’t see you until tomorrow night. Play well.”

Phillip smiled, dropped a couple of treats in Siegfried’s bowl to occupy him, and headed out the door.

*   *   *   *

Call was at 6:00, so Phillip pulled into the parking lot a little before. He walked through the church, set his food for the reception down next to the other plates in the kitchen, and then went into the choir room to put his horn together and leave his case. He came out and sat in the back of the room and looked down at his watch. 6:05. He held his horn across his knees and watched people coming and going and warming up all over the church. He wondered if Mark would come.

Around 6:10, Cheryl tapped her baton on the stand and called everyone up into their chairs.

“OK, let’s hit a few spots.”

Everyone came up and took their places. As Phillip was weaving his way through the chairs to his place, he noticed Rudy was wearing a red sequined cummerbund instead of the standard-issue black..

“You don’t think that’s a bit flashy?” he asked.

Rudy looked at him and primly said “No I don’t think it’s a bit flashy. It provides a bit of color among all this black and white. And anyway, it only our ability to accessorize that separates us from the beasts.”

Phillip sat down, looked over his music, and tried several reeds until he decided on one.

“So is Mark going to show up?” Rudy asked, ignoring Phillip’s lack of response to his witticism.

“I hope so.” Phillip arranged his music in concert order. “All I know is that he said he’d try.” Rudy didn’t pursue it and they both did a final prep of music, reeds and stand height.

The concert began precisely at 7:00 with a loud bang on the bass drum and timpani. It was quickly echoed by strident chords in the trumpets. Phillip watched Cheryl for the tempo for the first few measures since there were several tricky runs in the beginning section of the overture toCandide, their opening piece, and he didn’t want to miss notes in any of them. Once they were past however, he could relax a little and listen to the group. Everyone was doing well. A few sections later, Phillip listened as Rudy nailed a solo. It was only one single note, but it was very exposed. Phillip shot him a thumbs-up before they both entered on the flowing second theme.

The concert progressed well. Phillip kept looking out at the audience, but he didn’t see Mark. He looked at his watch. 7:30 already. Guess he couldn’t make it. Another concert played for no one. Just like all the others, he thought. Intermission came and went and the second half began and still no Mark. Phillip played competently, but even as he focused, his heart wasn’t in it. Two more pieces came and went and Phillip stared at the music and counted his empty measures. As the next piece started, he looked out at the audience one more time. He saw Mark walk in and take a seat in the back row, still wearing his dark blue work clothes. Mark looked down at the program and read, looked up and started scanning, the group.

During the first long passage where they were not playing, Phillip tapped Rudy on the thigh. Rudy turned and Phillip pointed into the audience and made an “OK” sign. Rudy looked out but then held his hands out, palms up as if to say “Who?” Phillip held the index fingers of his hands out and rolled them, one over the other, to indicate the rows of seats going back. Finally he held his right hand up to indicate the back wall and pointed down with the index finger of his left to indicate against the very back wall. Rudy peered again, this time looking only at the people in the last row. Phillip tugged at his shirt. Rudy scanned the last row again and decided Phillip was indicating the man in the work shirt. Mark couldn’t see all the gestures, but he saw Phillip lean over to the guy sitting next to him and he saw the other guy look around and finally focus on him. When he realized what was happening, he looked at Phillip and then his neighbor and then started grinning. Rudy stared and looked at Phillip; Phillip looked at his music.

Next were the two Copland pieces. Phillip tried to focus during Saturday Night Waltz, but as the oboe played and the flute answered and the bells sounded lightly and Rudy entered quietly, Phillip thought back on the nights he’d spent out in west Texas. Cold, lonely nights, searching for stars. He pulled his eyes away from the notes on the page and swept them across the room before allowing them to settle on the back row where Mark was sitting in his work shirt with grease stains, hunched with his head down, reading the program. As Phillip watched, Mark looked up and smiled at him once again. Phillip stopped playing. His throat constricted and he swallowed hard and looked at floor. From the back of the room, Mark saw Phillip’s face change and looked questioningly. From the podium, Cheryl saw Phillip’s face change and looked concerned. But as the piece flowed toward its end, Phillip looked up from the floor at Mark and Cheryl and began to play once again.

The finale of the concert was an arrangement of the Berceuse and Finale from Stravinsky’sFirebird. The Berceuse section was Phillip’s big solo. It wasn’t hard because of the speed or technique required, on the contrary, it was very simple and very slow. It was only difficult because it had to be played with intensity, but quietly and restrained at the same time. And Stravinsky had once again hit every note that is hard to slur either to or from and asked the player to do just that. The scene in the ballet tells of how the magical firebird resurrects the soldiers of the hero from the death spell cast by the evil wizard. Or that’s what the program notes said, anyway. Through the entire passage, Phillip kept his eyes on Cheryl to make sure he stayed in tempo. He had memorized the notes so he could do just that. It had taken a week – Phillip had never been good at memorizing music. Or memorizing anything. His piano teacher in college had given him tricks, but it was still hard.

When the solo was over, he allowed himself to relax. Rudy reached over and gave his thigh a couple of quick pats. The piece continued with the clarinets mimicking the mysterious tremolos that would have been played by violins in the original. Finally, Susie, the first horn entered with the solo theme of the finale. She nailed it, as always. From the horn entrance, the piece gradually built, crescendoing until the slam on the timpani that marked the beginning of the final section. The trumpets blazed with the very Tsarist-sounding theme. The low brass sounded powerfully in answer. Everyone played as loudly and strongly as possible until the final few measures. When they hit thesubito piano, the volume dropped to nothing and then in the space of a few moments, quickly built back into a wave of sound, culminating in the sustained final chord.

The crowd rose and started applauding. Cheryl turned to face the audience and bowed. Phillip could see Mark in the back clapping. Cheryl motioned for Susie and Phillip to stand and the crowd applauded more. Mark held his arms above his head where he knew Phillip would be sure to see them. Cheryl motioned for the everyone to stand. The applause continued, now with whistling and yelling.

In the choir room afterwards, everyone was congratulating each other and putting up horns and talking among themselves about how well the concert had gone. Phillip had taken his horn apart and placed it in its case.

“Are you OK?”

Phillip looked up at Rudy. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.”

“Well let’s go hit the reception before all the food is gone.”

“Sure, you go on. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Rudy left and Phillip closed his case. He walked out of the choir room and looked around the foyer. Finally he saw Mark, standing out of the way in a shaded corner against the opposite wall. He walked over and threw his arms around Mark and grabbed him.

“You made it after all!”

“Hey, I’m in my work clothes. I’m still greasy. You’ll ruin your tux shirt.”

“I don’t care,” Phillip said. “I can buy another one. I’m just glad you made it.”

“I’m sorry I was late,” Mark said. “There was a big wreck on the highway and the traffic was backed up for miles. I thought I’d never get here. But you guys were awesome. Really. I’m impressed. And your solo was great.”

“Yeah, it was OK. Anyway, it wasn’t as long as yours was.”

“That doesn’t matter. You played it beautifully. I really liked it. I read the story in the program notes. Were they any others in the first half that I missed?”

“No, not really.”

Chloe came up and Phillip and then Mark hugged her. “I wish I’d known you were here, we could have sat together.”

“I got here very late. I just sat in the back.”

“Well,” Chloe turned back to Phillip, “I’m very impressed. I’m glad you finally shamed me into showing up. I’ve never heard you play bassoon before. I’m not sure I care for all these band transcriptions, though.”

“Well, I think it was wonderful,” Mark said, squeezing Phillip’s shoulders.

“And just remember,” Chloe added, “Turnabout is fair play. You now have to go to my theater group performances.”

“OK. So what are you doing next time? Any Tennessee Williams?”

“No, unfortunately, most of our stuff is family oriented. But we do some musicals from time to time.”

“Great, what’s your next one?”

“I think we’re doing Fiddler in the fall.”

“Cool. I played pit for that once on clarinet,” Phillip said. “Let me know, and I’ll be there.”

“Sure. You need to meet everyone in the group. They’re all great folks. Very interesting. And you really need to meet Erik. He’s so funny.”

Rudy had been watching Mark and Phillip and Chloe, and when he judged the time was right, he ambled over. Phillip made the introductions. They stood talking, Rudy monopolizing the conversation as usual.

“So what happened to you during the Copland?

Phillip turned around to see Cheryl standing behind him. “I thought we were going to lose you,” she continued.

“Nothing really. That piece just affects me sometimes.”

“You stopped playing and looked like you were going to start weeping or something,” she said with a laugh.

“Well, you know me.” Phillip waved his hand. “You know me,” he said, turning to Chloe, “You all know what a wimp I am about all that melancholy stuff. But I’ll bet you haven’t eaten yet,” he said to Mark. “Come on. Let’s hit the reception or all the food will be gone. More importantly, my guacamole will be gone.”

“And as much as I hate to admit it, he does make a killer guacamole,” Chloe admitted to Mark.

They all walked off toward the table that held the food. Phillip was surprised at how many of the people Mark knew at the reception. He was evidently well known from church. As he should be, Phillip thought. Once the food began to run out, Mark said he was tired and wanted to go home. They left the buffet and Phillip picked up his horn case from the choir room. Mark followed him home from the church.

Once they got home, Phillip and Mark both took a hot shower, with Phillip brandishing the soap to make sure all Mark’s oil and dirt were taken care of, and Mark shampooing both his and Phillip’s hair. Later that night, Phillip was lying with his head on Mark’s shoulder, his hair clean and almost dry, Mark whispered. “Cheryl was right. When you were playing that slow piece, you looked straight at me. Were you crying?”

They both looked at the small window in the wall with moonlight coming in. “No, I wasn’t,” Phillip said and laid his cheek against Mark’s shoulder. “It’s just that I love that piece and I used to listen to it a lot during a really lonely time in my life.” Mark pulled his arm up and held Phillip closer. Phillip turned his head and could see Mark’s silhouette against the wall, dark against the bright moonlight coming through the window.

“But it doesn’t bother me as much now.”