Double Tears
Chapter 101
“You couldn‘t not like someone who liked the guitar.”
—Stephen King, The Stand
WHEN LIVY AND I walked into the kitchen, Nanette was sitting at the counter while Donna turned bacon at the stove. Nanette looked at me curiously and glanced back toward Donna. Donna turned from the stove and set plates of bacon, eggs, and toast on the counter for each of us before heaving a huge sigh.
“Jacob, you always impressed me as being more mature than others your age, so I’ll say this straight. You can’t just come here and exploit my hospitality. I’ve not invited you to have a clandestine love nest. I didn’t think I needed to be explicit about that and I’m disappointed that I do,” she said.
“Donna, I’m not sure what you mean. Granted, Livy and I took advantage of the shower together but we thought that would help with the hot water issue. I wouldn’t think of exploiting your hospitality, as you say. It was a completely natural thing for us to do after a run,” I said.
“If your parents found out I had provided a place for you to be together like that, I could be ruined. I’m teaching in a different county now but we are not isolated.”
“Oh. I think I see. You believe we are sneaking around behind our parents’ backs,” I said. I supposed it was an easy assumption to make since we were just teens and most would be doing just that. I went around the counter and took Donna’s hand to lead her to the table and sit facing each other. “Donna, we’re lovers—I mean Livy and me. Nanette and me, too. And Livy and Nanette. And Rachel and Desi and Beca and Brittany and Joan and Sophie and Emily. All ten of us. Our parents not only know and approve, there have been instances where they overtly facilitated our congress. It’s not unusual for Livy, Rachel, or Desi and me to spend the night together in any one of our homes. It’s common for Livy, Nanette, and me to come home from a run and all jump in the shower together.”
“You all? And your parents know?”
“There are different levels among us,” Nanette said as she settled on the bench beside Donna and lay a hand on her shoulder. “For example, I’m very careful around Brittany because of the age thing. She’s still fifteen and, like you, I have a lot at risk professionally and legally. I know she’s active with the other girls and is planning big things with Jacob soon.”
“Beca’s a lesbian,” I said. “We’re not afraid of each other sexually and sometimes cooperate in what we’re up to, but I don’t turn her on and wouldn’t think of crossing that line with her. Well, maybe think about it, but I wouldn’t do it.”
“There are ten people in our pod,” Livy said. “There isn’t one of them who wouldn’t be welcome to spend the night with me in my bed in my parents’ house. I hope you don’t think that just makes me a slut. I love all nine of my mates.” Donna heaved another big sigh.
“It’s so much to take in,” she said. “I want to treat you all like consenting adults and my own teacher persona jumps in to tell me what is right and what is wrong. I’m sorry I was harsh.”
“It’s part of getting to know you,” I said. “It was a good reminder that we should all not make assumptions and treat each other with respect. I’m sorry we upset you.”
“I have to leave for work,” Nanette said. “Donna, may I stop by to visit again this weekend? Jacob and Desi are going to be working at Indy PopCon starting Friday. Maybe I could bring another of our girlfriends out to join me. Would you like to get to know Rachel or Rebeca better?”
“Um… Yes, Nanette. I’d love to sit and chat for a while. Just remember, I have twenty acres to mow Saturday afternoon. If I let it go a week it takes twice as long to mow the next week. If I skip two weeks, I have to get a hay mower out and rake as well,” Donna said.
We all walked Nan out the door and waited while she put her shoes on. Then Livy and I each kissed her soundly before she took off. We went back inside and started cleaning up the dishes.
“You don’t have to do that,” Donna started.
“We’re not exploiting your hospitality by expecting you to cook and clean for us either,” I laughed. “We’re still all learning how to share tasks and exploring how to create a household. What else can we help with this morning?”
“Well, I was going to go out and cut some firewood. I use the fireplace a lot in the winter and try to put in a truckload of wood each week.” We walked outside and she opened the garage. We saw the chainsaw in the back of her truck. Next to the truck, her very practical Volvo was parked. We piled into the truck and headed out to the woodlot.
It was companionable and not overly stressful work to cover the bed of the truck with logs. Donna was an expert at handling her chainsaw and I saw no reason to be manly and offer to take over that job. Livy and I stacked and loaded the wood. It only took an hour with the three of us working and we drove back to the woodshed to unload. The remains of last year’s woodpile was stacked at one end of the shed with a load of fresh-cut wood already stacked at the other.
“I split the firewood before I stack it. Dad said a lazy man would wait to split it until it was needed, but that would mean he’d be out here working in the snow and cold in order to get wood for the fireplace. I learned early on to do the splitting as soon as the wood gets up here.”
“Do you have an extra axe? I can split logs.”
“Um… This makes it easier and faster.” She pointed to a gasoline log splitter. “It’s just big enough to handle most firewood. I’m pretty careful about not buying thick tree trunks. They have to be split by hand and it’s no fun.”
“Does that little woodlot provide enough wood for the winter?” Livy asked.
“No. We’re just doing spring cleanup of deadfall. There’s probably only another trip out there. I scout the papers and buy wood when I see it advertised. Dad used to drive a hundred miles to load a full trailer of wood and bring it home. I don’t usually go that far, even if I have to pay a little more.”
Some of the wood was small enough it didn’t need to be split. Livy and I started stacking it immediately. Donna efficiently stacked the splitter and the wood fell in halves. What we’d brought in today only needed to be split in half. Larger logs would get cut to more burnable sections.
It was nearly noon when we finished and I suggested that I needed to get home so I could clean up and change clothes.
“You can… uh… shower here again if you want,” Donna said. “Both of you.”
“Thank you,” I said, “but I don’t have any more clean clothes with me and I need to get ready to practice with Cindy.”
“Cindy?”
“Yes. You remember her. She’s the flute player I did duets with. She’s sent me text messages every day since my Sunday performance this week, asking to play some of the Renaissance music with me. We’re going to see if we can put together a program.”
“Oh, yes. Is… um… Cindy part of your pod?”
“Oh, God, no!” I burst out. “She’s… well, I know she’ll be a sophomore in the fall but she’s only fourteen and really sweet. She’s way too young for our pod. We can be… a little outrageous when we get together. I’d never expose her to that. Her mother would kill me. We’re just putting together some guitar-flute programs. I’m trying to work out a way for her to get more exposure. She’s brilliant.”
“Interesting,” Donna said. I thought it was a curious kind of look she exchanged with Livy.
We each got a hug in our sweaty grimy clothes. Livy and I headed for my truck. I was just a little distracted when I drove toward home, thinking that in a few minutes, Donna would undoubtedly strip out of those work clothes and get in her shower.
I dropped Livy at her house and went home to clean up. As I soaped up, I kept having images of Donna with soap running off her shoulders and down her breasts. I could imagine a rivulet of water running down her stomach into her slit and wondered if she shaved or was natural. I was thinking about running my fingers through her moisture when I came.
“Come in, Jacob. That was an impressive concert Sunday morning,” Mrs. Marvel said by way of greeting. “Very exciting,” she continued without allowing me to say so much as ‘hello.’ “We had no idea you could play the lute. This opens up an entire avenue of concert potential. We must explore medieval and early renaissance music for lute and recorder. So many possibilities.” I followed her to their music room where Cindy had a whole collection of woodwinds laid out on top of the closed grand piano.
“You know my lute isn’t really a lute, right?” I said. “It’s a hybrid and is tuned to the guitar.”
“It’s a good place to start. The sound is so different from your classical guitar,” Cindy said. I laid down my hard case for the classical guitar and opened the canvas case Riko made for the guitar lute. “The length of the neck and shape of the body give it a very medieval sound, even if your playing is more traditional.”
“Well, Riley wanted me to have something to play at Renaissance Festivals this summer. We’re doing a bard cosplay for the cons we go to,” I said. “He reminded me that it would be too risky to take a really valuable instrument like my guitar to these festivals and got this for me.”
“It’s still a beautiful instrument and it inspired me to dig out recorder music. Can you play in C or F? That’s the tuning on my recorders.”
“Sure, that’s no problem. What do you have?”
“It’s pretty much just a line. You’ll probably have to improvise your part. You’re good at that,” she laughed.
“Is that a dig that I don’t pay attention to the conductor?”
“When it’s just the two of us, we only have to pay attention to each other.”
Wow! Cindy… and even her mom… had sure loosened up. I looked over some of her music and thought I’d try one that looked familiar. There is a lot of medieval music that has come down to us just barely altered from what it must have been like in the 1500s. I pulled out ‘Greensleeves.’
Cindy agreed and nodded to me to start the piece. After a few measures her recorder joined me. We spent an hour just sampling and experimenting before her mom interrupted us.
“You should take a break for some refreshment. Come to the kitchen,” she said. We put our instruments aside and followed her. She had a nice coffee cake laid out for us and asked if I’d prefer tea, coffee, or a soft drink. I chose coffee.
“Thank you for the refreshment, Mrs. Marvel.”
“Well, I wanted to discuss your intentions toward my daughter,” she said. Hot coffee out the nose is not pleasant. Cindy buried her head in her hands.
“Mrs. Marvel! I’m just here to play music!”
“What else did you think I might mean? Of course to play music. But where? When? How shall we arrange things? I think it would be wonderful for you to have regular mini-concerts and have discussed the possibility with several venues here in town. Venues for classical music are far more limited than if the two of you formed a rock band. But I’ve played the video of your concerts for them and have three clubs that would like to book a half-hour concert before their normal evening entertainment. The places who express the most interest are coffee shops, bookstores, and alternate or new age shops.”
“But…”
“You do want to continue playing duets with Cynthia, do you not?” Mrs. Marvel said. I was completely prepared to walk out on this pushy stage mom but then Mr. LeBlanc’s words came back to me. ‘If you can’t do it for her, do it for music.’ The best I could do would be to join in the planning and not get railroaded into something.
“You asked my intentions,” I said. I casually put an arm around Cindy’s shoulders. She sat up straight as if I’d goosed her. “My intention is to provide a background that shows off this young lady’s talent and makes her a household name. Before Cindy enters mandatory service, I want there to be such a clamor for her music that the US Government has to find a place for her to play. The White House. The steps of the Capitol. Kennedy Center. I might not be enough to get her there, but I think with your help and that of our teachers and orchestra conductor, we stand a chance of making a mark on the music of America.”
Okay. Most of that was a load of bullshit I made up on the spot. But why not? Even the US Army has an orchestra. Why shouldn’t the National Service?
“That’s very impressive,” Mrs. Marvel said. Cindy relaxed and leaned against me.
“You’d really do that?” she whispered.
“Cindy, there are three things that aren’t people that make me feel alive. Believe me, people are in a category all by themselves. The first thing is running. I love the feel of the miles disappearing under my feet. But I’m never going to be an elite runner. I won’t be an Olympian. The second thing is writing. When I put words on paper, I see characters come to life in my head. I tell you, they are as real to me as people I see in school every day. I might never be a great writer, but I’m going to give it my best shot. But the third thing—the thing that grabs my heart and wrings the emotion from it—is music. When my guitar is in my hands, there is not a thing in this world that can disturb me. I feel a kinship with you when we’re playing. I want the world to know how great you are.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, practical things. I might not have mentioned that I won’t be here most of the summer. Sporadically, and mostly during midweek. Until August. Then I’ll be back except the first two weekends for the Kentucky Ren Faire. I’ll miss the third weekend because of a cross country meet. I’m afraid it won’t be possible to play any weekend concerts until school starts.”
“What is it you do at these Ren Faires?” Mrs. Marvel asked.
“Oh. Well, I work with my girlfriend, Desi, and her parents. They are costumers and prop makers and sell a ton of stuff at Renaissance Festivals and Comic Conventions. Desi and I dress up in costumes they’ve created and wander around the convention or faire entertaining and directing people to their booth for costumes. We’ve adopted a ‘bard and guard’ performance for the summer. That’s why Riley got me the guitar lute. We’ll wander around and I’ll play while Desi sings,” I said. “Our first con is this weekend in Indianapolis. The characters sort of originated from a video role playing game.”
“Oh my! People listen to you at these?”
“It’s a little different this year than my limited experience last year. At most of the cons we just parade around in our costumes and people stop to get photos with us and we direct them to Riko’s booth.”
“We should have been planning for this long ago!” Mrs. Marvel exploded. “May I have Desi’s parents’ phone number? You two need to get back to practicing. Put together your first half-hour set as if you were performing at one of these faires. Jacob, I’m taking you at your word. Make her shine!”
I wasn’t completely certain what I’d agreed to, but the feeling of an overwhelming commitment weighed on me all through my run Thursday morning. I waved Livy and Nan off when they were ready to leave the golf course and did another lap before I ran home.
I was surprised to find Mom had not left for work yet. She waved me to the shower and said she’d have breakfast ready when I came out. She did and sat across from me as she handed me a bowl of oatmeal and half a pound of bacon. I guess one balances the other.
“Jacob, are you sure you want to do this?” she asked.
“Do what, Mom?”
“Commit to music at the level you seem to have? I can simply tell them this isn’t what you meant.”
“Um… I love music, Mom. I want to write, too, but I don’t see that as a conflict. Tell me what you know that I don’t.” I was feeling pressed from all sides. The panic was only a few heartbeats away. Only I wasn’t dreaming. My mother was sitting across from me seriously questioning me.
“If you commit to music—playing with Cindy, specifically—everything else is going to come second. School, running, writing… your pod.”
“No. I’m willing to put everything second but my girlfriends. I’ve seen this before.” V1 was gibbering in my mind. Career. Job. Money. That was what was important to me in that life. My wife, my children, my marriage had all come second. I wasn’t going to make that mistake in this messed up simulation of a world I was now in. I could see it all around me. Even Mom and Dad had moments when the job threatened to be first over their family. Mom was making a huge adjustment to be late for work in order to have this conversation with me.
I knew what lay down that road. Sharon Long wasn’t the only person who would use the loneliness and isolation of putting career first to her advantage—to drive a wedge between me and my loved ones. I’d been incredibly remorseful about that affair when I found out Rebecca was ill. I was eaten by guilt when she died knowing I’d been unfaithful to her. Only the once that she knew about, but that was devastating enough. I sat by her bed until she died, regretting every moment I’d spent away from her.
“You’ll need to be the strongest man alive to keep it all in balance,” Mom was saying. “You’ll need to negotiate. And in order to do that, you’ll need to be clear about what you want.”
“I want to give Cindy the opportunity to truly show the world what she can do. She’s a phenomenal musician. The world needs to know that. But I’m not her mother. I’m not going to sacrifice myself to be her stepping stone,” I said firmly.
“Then go get your instruments and let’s get over there,” Mom said.
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