Trumpet Voluntary
"There's a concert next month," Sherry said. "Why don't you come to that and I'll introduce you? Then we can go from there."
The night of the concert, I stand in my closet with three suits draped over my arms. My wife Pam sits on the deck out back, drinking margaritas from a mix. She understands that I am a good person and that I need to do this. She's still unhappy. She was unhappy before Sherry told me about Nina, but about different things.
Sherry has said she's sorry. That she wouldn't have gotten in touch, ever, if she hadn't lost her job. "You do what you have to do. You two will see someday."
Pam's margarita glass has a green cactus for a stem. I think about kissing the top of her head goodbye like I might usually, but Pam startles easily after a drink or two.
The school is in Webster. Neither Sherry or I went to school in Webster. The school has a long driveway, and low windows with closed blinds. There are cars everywhere. Sherry told me to show up early for good parking, and on time for bad parking. I am not entitled to good parking, and I'm not entitled to the seat I find in the front.
The brass section is large, but there are only two girls playing the trumpet. Only one of the two girls is short in her chair, with black frizzy hair and blue eyes and a face that settles into a frown so that everyone probably thinks she's worried all the time when she isn't.
I listen to the music, and let myself look at her when the music teacher talks between songs. It feels like he talks for ages, and maybe he does. Nina mostly looks at her sheet music but then, right after a Sousa medley, one of the trombone guys whispers something to her and she giggles. Her eyes are bluer and wider then, even from a third of a gymnasium away. After that, I can't pay attention anymore. I can only think thoughts to the different beats. I gave something without even knowing it. I gave something without knowing I had anything to give. It turned out to be the biggest thing I've ever given. The most important thing that I didn't even do.
Sherry is in the hall after the concert. Her hair is thinner, and her eyes are tired. Nina stands next to her. Sherry nods at me, and turns to Nina. "Sweetheart, I'd like you to meet my friend Tim."
"You played well tonight," I hold out my hand for Nina to shake. Then I realize she's still holding her trumpet.
Nina looks at my hand, then at me. "Thanks," she says. We all watch as her pinky finger pushes a valve open on the bottom of the trumpet. Three wet drops plop on the shiny tile floor.
The night of the concert, I stand in my closet with three suits draped over my arms. My wife Pam sits on the deck out back, drinking margaritas from a mix. She understands that I am a good person and that I need to do this. She's still unhappy. She was unhappy before Sherry told me about Nina, but about different things.
Sherry has said she's sorry. That she wouldn't have gotten in touch, ever, if she hadn't lost her job. "You do what you have to do. You two will see someday."
Pam's margarita glass has a green cactus for a stem. I think about kissing the top of her head goodbye like I might usually, but Pam startles easily after a drink or two.
The school is in Webster. Neither Sherry or I went to school in Webster. The school has a long driveway, and low windows with closed blinds. There are cars everywhere. Sherry told me to show up early for good parking, and on time for bad parking. I am not entitled to good parking, and I'm not entitled to the seat I find in the front.
The brass section is large, but there are only two girls playing the trumpet. Only one of the two girls is short in her chair, with black frizzy hair and blue eyes and a face that settles into a frown so that everyone probably thinks she's worried all the time when she isn't.
I listen to the music, and let myself look at her when the music teacher talks between songs. It feels like he talks for ages, and maybe he does. Nina mostly looks at her sheet music but then, right after a Sousa medley, one of the trombone guys whispers something to her and she giggles. Her eyes are bluer and wider then, even from a third of a gymnasium away. After that, I can't pay attention anymore. I can only think thoughts to the different beats. I gave something without even knowing it. I gave something without knowing I had anything to give. It turned out to be the biggest thing I've ever given. The most important thing that I didn't even do.
Sherry is in the hall after the concert. Her hair is thinner, and her eyes are tired. Nina stands next to her. Sherry nods at me, and turns to Nina. "Sweetheart, I'd like you to meet my friend Tim."
"You played well tonight," I hold out my hand for Nina to shake. Then I realize she's still holding her trumpet.
Nina looks at my hand, then at me. "Thanks," she says. We all watch as her pinky finger pushes a valve open on the bottom of the trumpet. Three wet drops plop on the shiny tile floor.
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Author's Note
This was on Fictionaut last year, and Wigleaf this year. Thanks to both! You are among my favorite online places.
Other stories by Erin Fitzgerald
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What a final image. This is really subtle, well played. Me likey.
"She was unhappy before Sherry told me about Nina, but about different things." What a line.
In the 7th para, seems like go from present tense (can, listen, etc.) to past ("couldn't" and "gave"). If unintentional, may want to put all in present?
Nice work. Really kept me interested and guessing. And hoping.
Thanks, and thanks. (And fixed.)
Erin, this really pulled me in at that second paragraph where we see our narrator standing with the three suits over his arm. It's a great image, full of suspense and intrigue and promise. There's also something sad in the stance too. I also really liked the sad interaction with his wife, and hope deftly you handle the exposition here, revealing so much so efficiently. I agree with David that last sentence and image is just terrific.
I have to admit though that I'm not clear what's going on here? I felt really thrown when Sherri apologized and said ""That she wouldn't have gotten in touch, ever, if she hadn't lost her job."
I know as a writer I'm guilty of sometimes sticking too close to traditional narrative and wrapping everything up too neatly at the end, so maybe it's my biased reading that's at fault here? Anyone else? Do you intend it to be so oblique?
A pleasure as always. Thanks.
I love how you tell stories without creating trails of sentimentality for readers to follow. The narrator's wife and he are clearly having problems and he has just found out he has a child he didn't know about. His reaction could be much more obvious. You let the description stand on its own.
At the same time, you give just enough to portray how overwhelmed he is, which subtly encourages a sympathy for him that had not yet developed (for me, least.)
Knowing some of your other work, I suspect you intended the obliqueness that Ethel mentioned. Sometimes it seems like you have a private joke with yourself (which is always fun to laugh along with.) Though the end here is not explicitly laughable, it's a nice demonstration of the humanity and realness of your characters, and left me with a smile, albeit a somewhat sad one.
I'm not sure this one is done. I'm very curious to see how things develop ... you got me hooked.
The last line is perfection. Having read a few of your stories now, I am intrigued by this and again, what I have come to view as your trademark, that slow build, the randomness and displacement that your stories convey.
There are fine details here, particularly upon a second reading. I like the exposition of the wife, drinking margaritas, how she startles easily and I really appreciate that you aren't stating the obvious, but rather are showing that there is real awkwardness about the situation.
The first time I read this, I was really confused. The second time I read this, everything fell into place. I don't know what that means but I thought I would mention it.
I'm very impressed by this story. It has real sophistication.
Erin, like Roxane, the first time reading it I was quite confused. The second time...everything fell into place too. FWIW.
what a great story Erin. kudos! i mean every part of this thing. achievement city!
and the title too... how great is that!
Now I'm worried. I "get" this whole thing. not used to that. lovely work.