Chapter 169

“Sanity is over-rated. It lacks color.”
—Forrest Carr, A Journal of the Crazy Year

WE WERE BACK to the crazies as soon as we returned on Sunday. With the orchestra concert coming up on Tuesday, LeBlanc was holding a special rehearsal Sunday afternoon and a dress rehearsal Monday night. I picked Cindy up at two and we headed for the school.

“I think I have program material for our next two recordings,” she said as she settled into the middle of the truck seat and fastened her seatbelt. She leaned against me, careful not to interfere with my hands on the wheel. There was hardly a high school student with a driver’s license I knew who hadn’t done a day of community service for driving one-handed while his girlfriend occupied the other. It was funny, though, that I found it as easy to obey the traffic laws in this life as I had found it to disobey them in V1. It’s all a matter of what we get used to, I guess.

“That’s great. What did you find?” I asked.

“Schubert’s Original Dances, D 365, Op 9,” she said. “I found a flute and guitar arrangement. If we wanted to, we could divide them up and have two or three videos. There are 36 of them.”

“Sounds like a complete orchestra concert,” I sighed. “Can we learn that much new music?”

“The dances are all very short. They are kind of exercises for piano students when it comes down to it. We could do a dozen of them in ten minutes. The music is recital music and maybe it isn’t as challenging as some of the things we’ve worked on; people really enjoy the light and lively waltzes,” she said.

“Sounds like you are reading from the YouTube blurb,” I laughed.

“Well, someone had to do some research!” she said. “You need to come up with the live program for our California tour in December.”

“We’re really going to do that, aren’t we?” I said. “From what Sophie said, we’ll be featured as an hour-long act in a three-hour performance. They’re really going all out on this tour thing.”

“Well, those poor guys forced to work in the fields deserve some reward. We need to bring them a spark of brightness in the drudgery of their day,” Cindy said.

“It bothers you, doesn’t it,” I said. I checked my mirrors and reached down to pat her leg before I turned in to the school parking lot.

“Yeah. Jacob, when you meet with the commission again, you need to get an alternative to manual labor across to them. I mean, I know they need laborers, but Mr. Richards gave us a reading assignment Friday. He said it was inspired by my suggestion last week about equality not always being sameness. I think I’ve heard you mention the book before. It’s short and by a guy named George Orwell called Animal Farm. The quote he pointed out was ‘All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.’ His question was whether the jobs assigned in the National Service were all equal or if they should be weighted in some way. I read the book Saturday morning while you were running.”

“I should reread the whole thing so I remember it correctly, but he has a point. The question I have is if job inequality can be reconciled with people equality. I mean, we definitely have differences already. Doctors are paid more than my dad working on an assembly line. How do National Service occupations get compensated?”

We grabbed our instruments and went into the auditorium where we spent the next four hours in intense rehearsal.

If equality is not sameness, does that mean some animals are more equal than others?

We’d just run a half marathon on Saturday, so Nanette went light on us Monday morning. I surprised my study hall monitor by actually showing up and sitting through half the period. At 9:30, during third period announcements, I was recognized for winning the half marathon in Rockville over the weekend. Even Ms. Pixler applauded the achievement.

And, of course, the rest of the day was mostly dedicated to orchestra. Rehearsal went through lunch and then we were summoned back at five for dress rehearsal. I practiced with the cross country team and Jock sounded pretty proud when he called the team for a meeting and presented my first place medal. He had me lead the 10k team on a six-minute mile to celebrate and then called me off the track while the team headed out on the new trail where they’d be racing on Thursday. I never left school after I showered and got dressed in concert clothes. I left the locker room at four and was headed to pick up my viol when I suddenly felt like my legs wouldn’t carry me any farther. I just crumpled on the floor.

I don’t think I passed out. Maybe for a while. I just lay there with the hall spinning around my head. My whole body was shaking. I tried to assess my condition and see where the threads of my life were but I couldn’t focus on them. I knew something was wrong but it felt easy to fix if I could find the solution.

Guys coming out of the locker room saw me on the floor and yelled for Jock. He ran out with a couple of trainers and after a quick assessment, got me to drink something. It tasted funny but my eyes started to clear and focus.

“When did you last eat?” Jock demanded. I had to think.

“Had a protein shake for breakfast,” I managed.

“Somebody, get me an energy bar and a bottle of water,” he shouted. I managed to choke down the dry bar and bottle of water. By then I was feeling pretty much fine, though my stomach was still growling. Desi came pelting down the hall with Beca in tow and I looked at them, amused.

“What’s up, girlfriends?” I asked. I hadn’t seen them since English class this morning.

“What’s up indeed?” Beca demanded. “What are you doing passed out on the floor?”

“I guess I forgot to eat today.”

“Why weren’t you at lunch?”

“LeBlanc rehearsed us right through the whole period.”

“That idiot,” Jock said. “Can you two get him to some food?”

“Yeah, we can do that,” Desi said. “I have my car outside. Come on, Jacob. It’s dinnertime.”

“I need to get to rehearsal,” I said stubbornly.

“I’ll talk to LeBlanc,” Jock said. “And you need to make sure you eat regularly. You did a three-mile run this morning and another mile this afternoon. Then you lifted weights. And you are still recovering from a school record half marathon and long car ride this weekend. You can’t perform if you don’t eat!”

“Yes, sir,” I said contritely. “I just didn’t think of it.”

Desi and Beca led me out and we went straight to Firehouse Subs where I devoured a footlong New York Steamer, basically corned beef, pastrami, and provolone. I felt a lot better by the time I’d finished eating and washed it all down with an iced tea. Then I had to go face LeBlanc. This was a dress rehearsal and I arrived with my instrument nearly half an hour into the program. He never looked at me as I took my seat, found my place in the music and joined with my viol.

“Okay. Since Jacob seems unable to remember to eat after he’s worked out, we’ll have to take responsibility for him, I guess,” Emily said when I got home at eight. A full meal was waiting on the table. Donna and Nanette joined us there. Emily took charge of serving me a healthy portion of roast chicken, potatoes, broccoli, gravy, and carrots. Donna prepared a salad bowl and pushed it in front of me.

“I’m not a child,” I said, sounding incredibly childlike. “I can serve myself.”

“You aren’t taking care of yourself,” Nanette said. “This whole performing and running thing is stressing you. We’ve been stupid not to notice. How much weight have you lost?”

“Weight? Well, I always weigh a little less after a long race. I don’t know that I’ve lost weight overall.”

“Except that you run long runs every week. And you are rehearsing non-stop. It isn’t enough that LeBlanc has you rehearsing three hours this evening. I’ll bet you planned to practice more tonight, didn’t you?”

“I don’t want to let anyone down,” I said. Didn’t they understand how much depended on my performing well—especially as we moved toward this stupid holiday concert tour in California.

“You let everyone down when you are lying unconscious on the floor,” Donna said.

“J, it’s not about you letting us down. We’ve let you down,” Em said. “Honey, we have all lined up to be around the great Jacob Hopkins, runner, musician, writer, government adviser, lover. But we haven’t been supporting you the way we should. We—and I mean all eleven of your girlfriends, haven’t been paying attention to what you need.”

“For once, we’re not talking about keeping you sexually exhausted,” Donna laughed. “You’re providing an opportunity for all of us to live together, travel together, love together. Without you, we’d all fall apart. Oh, Joan and Beca would continue to be a couple. Rachel and Livy would find a way to be together. The rest of us would try to stay together but eventually we would discover we didn’t have the strong common thread that holds us together. You. Our carbon element.”

That got me thinking. I hadn’t spent more than a few fleeting encounters with pod two all summer and not at all this fall. How were they doing without their carbon element? Brittany was the only older sibling in town. Rachel and Livy were in service. I’d really been dumb. Those poor kids were suffering and I was too wrapped up in ‘important matters’ to pay attention to them.

“Can we invite pod two out for dinner Friday night?” I asked. All three of my girlfriends looked at me strangely. I guess it was a bit of a non sequitur. Em figured it out first and nodded.

“Good idea. But, J, you have to let us fuss and take care of you a little. We won’t hover over you or try to smother you, but we are going to be watching to make sure you get rest and food—in addition to sex,” Em giggled.

“I guess...” Donna, Em, and Nanette were looking at me intently. “I understand,” I sighed. “I didn’t mean to make it look like the relationship was all one-sided. It seems like you all do so much for me. I love you and I want to do my best for you. If that means letting you take care of me a little, okay. Just don’t let me start taking you all for granted.”

“We won’t,” Nanette said. “Now finish your meal. You gave us all a scare today. You need to build up a little energy so we can work out our anxiety with some three-on-one action when you’ve finished eating.”

The orchestra concert Tuesday night was good. People enjoyed it. The soloists were right on. LeBlanc was flashy as always. He never spoke to me. It looked like I’d truly made it onto his shit list.

“Jacob, may I have a word with you?” I looked to my left and directly into the eyes of Sharon Long, Joan’s mother.

“Mrs. Long,” I said. “Of course.”

“First of all, I haven’t been Mrs. Long since you were a freshman. I’m still Sharon and there is no reason for you to revert to making me feel old.” I was on alert. Sharon could be a devious cougar and I wouldn’t put it past her to get me into a compromising situation. Under other conditions, I’d have thrown caution to the wind and happily fucked Sharon. She wasn’t only a cougar; I knew from V1, she was a wildcat. I nodded my acknowledgment. “Joan tells me you are looking for a place to record your next duet with Miss Marvel. You kids spent days in my TV room—and some nights, if I recall correctly. Why don’t you bring your friends over on the sixteenth and record your video there?”