Chapter 4

Two men sat in the middle of a dark concert hall staring at a dimly lit stage. Under the light a ten-year old girl in a light blue sundress stood rigid next to a black upright piano as she played a wild caprice. Her fingers moved swiftly upon the neck of the instrument and her bowing arm swung in jagged circles. A pasty-faced man sat at the piano holding an open score and a small pencil, furiously scribbling notes in the margins.
“This is fucking terrible,” whispered one of the men in the hall to the other.
“Terrence,” whispered the other man as he stared intently at the stage, “what else do you have to do?”
Terrence sat silent for a moment and then turned back to watch the performance. The girl was oblivious to their mutterings as she slaved away at the piece. She began to rock back and forth on her feet as beads of sweat dripped from her forehead.
“I’m just saying that this is a complete waste of time. Nobody is going to come and, to be quite honest Edward; nobody really gives a shit.”
Edward gave a sideways glance to the comment, flashing his face into a spot of light from the doorway behind. His eyes were curious and warm, direct, but not offensive. His black hair had been pushed around his head until it stood in an outward angle to make a natural awning. His nose and cheeks curved with smooth edges, but came to a halt with a firm jaw line drawing the length of his face to a rounded chin. He produced a knowing smile across the length of his face and looked back to the stage.
“Then why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here Edward. I’ve told you at least a hundred times since I came in the door and you pretend like it doesn’t matter.”
The man at the piano suddenly produced a stiff grunt. The sound echoed loudly into the hall instantly pulling the two men’s attention away from their argument. The pasty man raised his hand towards the girl on the stage and the music stopped.
“Madeline, my dear, you skipped the repeat. I need to hear it all in order to make a proper evaluation. Could you go back to measuuuuuure seventy-three? And this time really try and follow the dynamic markings, okay?”
“Vedy Sawdy Meester Peetur,” she said quietly, “Vill be much beitter this time.”
“I’m sure it will, my dear. Just keep the mind switched on. Now,” he paused briefly, “begin.”
With that Madeline continued as Terrence looked back to Edward.
“Are you even listening Edward?” hissed Terrence. “Have you heard me at all since I sat down?”
“Only bits and pieces really.” answered Edward as he scratched at his forearm, “Something about not having enough money to fund this whole thing and the Acolytes and I’m pretty sure you said something about your wife when you came in. Or did I ask you about her? I don’t really remember. Oh no, he’s raised his hand again. I’m telling you, we really need to get better players. This girl keeps…”
Suddenly Terrence stood up and shouted, “You stupid fuck!”
His body visibly pulsed as he stood facing Edward.
“I’m trying to warn you about a goddamn riot headed your direction and you’re rambling about fucking small talk! Jesus Christ! This concert is going to fuck us both, not to mention anyone who shows up, and I can’t even get five minutes of your precious time. Well fuck you! I’m out!”
Terrence stomped to the back of the concert hall in a rage.
“Fuck you and fuck your stupid fucking concert!” he shouted as he kicked open the door and walked into the lobby.
Madeline had stopped her playing and stood wide-eyed on the stage. The pasty-faced man stared blankly at Edward who had taken out a cigarette and was silently motioning for them to continue. As he bent to the next seat to search for a lighter in his coat pocket a muffled sob squeaked from the stage. Madeline had fallen and sat trembling with her head deep inside her cotton dress. Edward walked slowly to the front of the hall, motioning to the pasty man to make a brief exit by pointing to his watch and holding up five fingers.
Edward’s slender frame strolled casually down the aisle of the music hall as if he were walking down the street with no particular purpose in mind. His skinny brown pants swung minimally being tightly bound at the hip by an olive argyle sweater vest over an off-white button-front rolled at the sleeves, the sweater and shirt nicely woven together with a very complicated tie reminiscent of roman architecture.
“My dear,” he said as he turned the search for his lighter to his pants pocket, “is this the way a professional acts?” He waited a moment, as if expecting a response, and then answered, “Surely not.”
His eyes suddenly lit up and his hand emerged from his pocket with the elusive silver lighter. He turned towards the back of the hall and lit the cigarette.
“But…Meester Eidwurd,” she spit out between her tears.
Edward took a long drag and looked out at the upper levels of the hall adorned with decaying statues of gargoyles and mermaids eyeing each other suggestively. Edward had always wondered what the fantasy creatures saw in each other. He had tried numerous times to justify a gargoyle and mermaid relationship, but it just wouldn’t hold water. As he let the smoke curl around his lungs he tried to conceive of a situation where a mermaid would choose to be with a gargoyle. It seemed natural to him that a mermaid would seek out a merman rather than settle for a gargoyle. However, the hall was lacking in any mermen and gargoyles were present in abundance. It seemed to be a relationship of circumstance rather than preference.
Edward was brought back to the concert hall by a louder than normal squeal from the heap of sobbing violinist in the middle of his stage.
“You can’t let little outbursts like this bother you.” he said as he blew the smoke towards the nearest gargoyle. “Just concentrate on what you’re doing and keep going.”
Edward dropped an ash on the floor and stamped it out immediately.
“The most important advice I ever got was from a very old man who never touched a violin, but I think it’s appropriate. He used to say, ‘It doesn’t matter if you screw up, just don’t stop. Move forward.’ I can understand if you’re upset, but don’t worry about Mr. Terrence. He just gave up smoking and hasn’t had any coffee yet today.”
Madeline nodded and wiped her eyes.
“Alright,” said Edward, “ready again?”
“Yez,” she said snuffily
“Okay, Peter,” yelled Edward towards the back of the stage, “five’s up. Let’s finish this.”
Peter popped out from around the corner with a lit cigarette puffing neatly between his lips.
“Alright,” he started as he sat back at the piano, “from the repeat again, watch the E-flat in measure ninety-seven, and don’t stop. I don’t care if you hear God sneeze, don’t stop.”
Madeline slowly stood up and shifted into position. She glanced at Edward standing at the edge of the stage.
“Move forward,” he mouthed as she brought the bow to the instrument. She smiled and took a deep breath. Her posture was much more relaxed and her fingers rested lightly on the strings.
“Now, begin.”
The initial sound of the swift violin cut out cleanly across the darkened hall. Edward returned to his seat and looked back up at the fantasy sculptures and their mismatched relationship. As he imagined about the whereabouts of the missing mermen Madeline put a part of her self into the performance. It wasn’t perfect, but it gave warmth to a place that had long seemed dead.