Chapter 3

She came back to find I had woken up. Together, we began the process of coming up with songs. I had a very broad choice of music in iTunes on my Apple MacBook Air, now with over 4,000 songs, about 90% from both Film and Broadway Musicals. I had a 128GB flash drive, that could hold nearly 30,000 songs. I also had Microsoft Word and Excel on it.

“Fallin,” an Alicia Keys song, was the first we both liked. Its jazzy rhythm would be challenging for the choir.

From my Andrew Lloyd Webber collection, which was extensive, I thought of “Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again,” from PHANTOM OF THE OPERA and then a great idea popped into my head.

“Jennifer, do you think Principal McGowan would enjoy an entire evening of Andrew Lloyd Webber music?”

“Why wouldn’t he? I can’t sing everything by myself. We would definitely need more solo voices,” she said, purposefully putting on airs.

“Let’s finish our list of music first. Mr. Webber has written a butt load of music,” I said.

“Now, who’s cursing, Michael?”

“Sorry Baby!”

I brought up his Wiki page, and we sorted through it all. We added to our first selection:

“Any Dream Will Do” from JOSEPH AND THE AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT.

From JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR, we had two songs, the love ballad “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” and the rock anthem “Superstar.”

From EVITA, the choice was obvious. Jennifer positively salivated when “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” was added to our list. She also had me listen to “Buenos Aires,” saying it would be a wonderful showpiece for the orchestra by itself. An excellent idea again from my girl.

CATS, was the next big musical from ALW. The obvious number is “Memory,” but I remembered “The Jellicle Ball,” which could show off some featured performers from our choir, maybe even with the orchestra.

“How many is that so far?” I asked.

“Eight, we are not including ‘Fallin’ any more, correct?”

“Correct. I feel like I don’t say ‘I love you’ enough,” I added.

“Then tell me ... even more,” she said, kissing me on the tip of my nose.

My morning breakfast came, and Jennifer had a blast feeding me while my right hand was searching for music. That wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.

“From STARLIGHT EXPRESS, there is a great song for Sámi Cho, it’s called “He Whistled at Me.” I played it for her to hear. She agreed.

“Here she is,” we heard the unmistakable voice of Alice Guthrie. “Have you been home since he woke up?”

“Just once,” she said, “I am helping him. We are picking music together. The February Concert is going to be all Andrew Lloyd Webber.”

“That is a wonderful idea,” my mother said coming up behind Ally. “What have you got so far?”

I told her, and she sparkled. “What number would you like me to play, Honey?”

“‘Memory’ at the very least. We will have auditions for the solos, except for those that Jennifer wants.”

“Oh you,” she said slapping at me.

“You have earned every song by being at my side through all of this. Don’t fight me on this Miss Guthrie.”

“I like this side of Michael,” Alice said giving me a kiss on the cheek.

“I can only imagine Jennifer singing, “Think of Me” and the title piece of music from PHANTOM OF THE OPERA.”

“With my help,” Janice added, “She could possibly hit those notes that Sarah Brightman sang.”

“Your baton hand has been crushed,” Alice reminded us all. “How do you expect to conduct, Honey?”

“I will just practice leading with my right hand. In my case, my right hand ‘knows’ what my left has been doing.”

They all looked at me funny.

“Gee whiz, you guys, get your minds out of the gutter. I don’t know how much movement my left hand will be capable of. I may need Jennifer’s help.”

She blushed!

“Ugh. Back to work, ladies. What do you think of only the choir performing ‘Masquerade?’”

“Masterful idea,” mom said.

“I was asking my future wife,” I said.

That generated a silence.

“Do you mean that?” they all said nearly at the same time, with Jennifer’s face turning pink.

“It follows the rest of our plans, provided she doesn’t find somebody in high school to replace me,” I said.

My nurse walked up and said, “The whole meal, Mister ... not just the milk and jello.”

“Yes, Nurse Ratched.” I said, with her turning around and leaving. I think I saw a smirk.

Jenn leaned over and fed me the rest of it, cutting my food for me. She was giggling while our mothers watched this. I was still using the laptop and her ... covered bosom touched my hand and arm.

She quietly giggled and said, “Wait until you are home from the hospital before we try any more of that, OK?”

I brought up ASPECTS OF LOVE. As Jenn pushed my now-empty food table away, and I played the marvelous two-gentleman song from that show called, “She’d Be Far Better Off With You.”

From THE WOMAN IN WHITE, I knew of another song for Jenn. It’s called “If I Could Dream This World Away.” She did love it upon hearing it. Our percussionists would also love it.

“I have that whole score, Michael,” Janice said.

“Great mom, good to know that,” I responded.

“Could I help, somehow?” Alice asked.

“Of course, she can—can’t she, Michael?” my favorite blonde remarked.

“Attagirl, baby,” Alice said.

“Does anybody know that Andrew Lloyd Webber wrote additional music for a West End version of THE WIZARD OF OZ?”

“I did, Michael,” my mother answered. “I bought the entire score once it became available, hoping that someone in town would get the rights to put it on as an actual show. It has yet to be released to community theatres. Some of the music is quite pretty. I remember the closest to a hit was the song called ‘Already Home.’ Play it, Michael?”

I did and we all loved it.

“Well, we are through the Webber hits. We got sixteen songs so far. Anybody have any ideas on the other pieces of music we need?”

I heard them all thinking, when Nurse Norma walked up to get my empty food tray, and said, “Why not just perform Webber in the first act, and Sondheim music in the second?”

She left. A hit and (a home) run!

I was ready before any of them said anything. Steven Sondheim’s Wiki page had all his show information, including a list of his shows in chronological order, just like I found for ALW.

“WEST SIDE STORY was his first big work. How about the chorus, by itself, singing ‘Something’s Coming?’” I suggested.

“The ‘Jet Song’ is more iconic, honey,” Janice said. “Somebody could give the chorus a small amount of choreography.”

“I could do that,” Alice said sounding very upbeat.

“Perfect ladies, thanks. Now, on to GYPSY — perhaps Jennifer could do a striptease?”

“Oh Michael, that’s so disturbing,” she said to me, looking down at her still ... maturing chest. I admit I did too!

“How about ‘Together, Wherever We Go?’ It could be the last number of the evening?” I suggested.

“Once again, Michael has an epiphany,” my mother said.

I carefully raised my left hand and put it on her face. “I love you, Mom.”

“Michael, I felt your fingers move. Oh, my goodness... NURSE!”

Jenn took the laptop off my lap as my nurse ran up to ask, “Is there a problem?”

“LOOK, at his left hand? The doctor said it wasn’t possible for that kind of motion to come back,” my mother said, breaking into tears. Being a sympathetic crier, so did I!

“I will page the doctor,” she said, seeing the motion for herself.

“Michael, this might just mean my little conductor could still be left-handed.”

“Aww, Mom.”

After they removed all the rigmarole from my left hand, they tested my nerve responses, even took an x-ray, and then they declared that my hand had spontaneously healed for ‘No apparent medical reason!’

My mother explained it as a miracle from God. I thanked them all ... including Him.

My right leg had no such miracle, and they put a synthetic walking cast on it, sending me home the next day with instructions that all three ladies planned to keep to the letter.

I had exercises for my left hand and wrist, which Jennifer put me through. Mom slathered my bruises with the salve medicine they got from the nearby Rite-Aid store. Alice kept my leg mobile by putting me through a light bit of PT (physiotherapy) on my ankle and foot.

Jenn gave me the pieces to my baton. With the aid of some epoxy glue, I tried putting it back together, but alas, it was not meant to be.

After I ‘picked them from a lineup’ and pressed under intense questioning, all three of Bill Chapmans’ minions confessed he paid them a hundred dollars each to inflict as much pain as possible, including breaking my left hand and arm into ‘hundreds of pieces.’ The police were calling it a ‘targeted attack.’

They found Bill Chapman at home with his parents as they cuffed him, read him his rights, and took him away. His father, promised him ‘The best lawyer he could find.’

Being back at home around the three ladies, was the best medicine. Ally and Mom cooked us another one of my favorite meals -- my mother’s pot roast. She uses a slow cooker letting it cook in its own juices for three to four hours.

Meanwhile, I had a present to open. With not much fanfare, I opened it to find the exact same model of baton as she had gotten me before. We gave each other a near brutal hug. I love my mother.

Jennifer got me on my feet and walked me over to the piano where mom sat down with Alice ready to turn the pages.

“What’s happening here?” I asked.

“While dinner is cooking, we can go over as much of the new music as possible,” my mother explained.

Jennifer handed me my baton.

We got through all thirty pieces of music. The Webber seventeen, plus the Sondheim thirteen. My wrist and forearm held up. We stopped halfway for liquid refreshment. Jennifer also gave me some moral support by giving me many wonderful kisses all over my face!

Once we were all done, Mom and Alice went into the kitchen as I put my baton down and walked with my slight limp to my girl. We were going to keep kissing until someone told us to stop. I was hoping for a few more growth spurts. I may yet get taller than her. She isn’t getting taller, just more curvaceous!

After that, we all sat down to the best-tasting food I had eaten in a while. Compared to my time in the hospital, it was a repast of riches. While we ate, Jenn had the idea for open auditions right after school started back up. That would give us almost two months to practice everything.

Alice recommended we go over to see the high school auditorium setup. Another fabulous idea.

Assuming Principal McGowan had no problem with any of the music, I asked mom for orchestrations again.

During this time off school, we were spending a lot of time together. Mom explained a little about how to develop an orchestration, showing me by doing four measures of it, then having me do it. I tended to overthink it, but she explained it well.

She had me take a try at doing one on my own, the classic “Send in The Clowns.” It’s not necessarily a quick assignment. I went to my room with plenty of staff paper and some pencils. Just under an hour later, I brought it to her, all thirteen parts. She glanced over it and asked, “You didn’t use any computer program to help you, did you?”

“No! I resemble that remark, Janice.”

We exchanged glances. She put it on the piano and started to play it... “You changed the key, didn’t you, Michael?”

“Yeah, to make it easier for Jenn to sing, was that wrong?”

“My little man may just be the next John Williams ... or Andrew Lloyd Webber!”

“Come on, Jenn, Alice ... Come in here, please?” Janice yelled.

They came from ... wherever they were. I picked up my new old baton, as they got behind mom.

“Jenn, sing the lead line, Alice, hum loud the first violin part. I will try to do the horn part and play the piano,” my mother said.

“Ladies, are you ready?” I asked.

Jenn and Alice blew me a kiss. Mom made a fart sound with her mouth, causing everyone to giggle.

I tapped the piano, to make sure they were paying attention to me.

It begins,

“Isn’t it rich, are we a pair...”

What a rush to hear something you had a hand in creating! The ladies all sounded marvelous.

When they were done, we all applauded.

“Honey, this is very good. Your two violin voices sometimes cross, but it looks doable. The best conductors also know a little about each of the instruments in the orchestra to help them explain what he needs from each of them.”

“You also wrote for your girl’s range. Andrew Lloyd Webber did that for many years when he was married to Sarah Brightman. It was rumored that he had affairs with most of the leading ladies in his musicals.”

I saw Jennifer looking at me. I walked to her and said, “Don’t worry, my dear sweet Jennifer. Except for my mother, you will be my only love. I mean that with all of my heart.”

I was touching her cheek with my miraculous left hand. She pushed her cheek into it. I put my other hand on her other cheek and leaned into her. She broke into a wondrous grin, and we held each other for the longest time.

Time passed inexplicably. Our families had become so close so quickly, we had Christmas together at their place.

We exchanged gifts. Jenn got me a cleaning kit for my new baton. I bought her a matching bracelet and necklace, plus a framed Masters’ Degree in Kissing. She used that font she showed me on the bus.

Mom and Alice didn’t get it.

Early on, during the Christmas break, Jenn and I organized the music list and emailed it to Principal McGowan. He sent back to us the following message...

“Fantastic. It looks three hours long. We should be able to charge at least $45 a head for this! Good job to you both.”

I knew Jenn had her eyes on a number of songs, but I explained to her that everyone would want to get a solo. I did temporarily give her the four female ballads, “I Don’t Know How to Love Him,” “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina,” “Memory” and “Send in The Clowns.” Any more than that would depend on the quality of our talent at auditions. She gave me puppy-dog eyes but understood.

I practiced every day for four straight hours, to get my stamina back. Jenn and I created an audition sheet. We decided that we needed a minimum of five young men and four young women — more would be better.

Jenn had the audacity to create a Facebook page for the show in early February, including posting the audition page, as a downloadable form along with the list of music.

We included the request to ask them to have a song from the show ready for tryouts. It was mentioned that a pianist would be provided.

She was barely done with it before the masses glommed to it and gave us comments and downloaded the forms.

They must have been waiting.

Principal McGowan emailed us to announce that WFYI, the PBS station from Indianapolis, planned to bring in enough cameras to film the event for a later in the year Pledge Drive. My nervousness just went up by a factor of one hundred!

After I harangued myself for a while, I realized it was great for the school and Vincennes. I went to WFYI’s website and saw a little blurb about us.

I am back to DEFCON 4!

It was now 2012!

I am thirteen, turning fourteen in early June, now a reasonably well-known conductor with a hot girl on my arm.

Charles Alexander, two years younger than I, a good friend from when I first started at Jackson Heights and a great saxophone player, gave me a noogie just to prove he still could. He was taller than me.

I was getting taller, (almost there) when Jenn wears flats, and I wore heels.

On the first day back at Jackson Heights, we walked into the Administrative office together. Miss Jepson smiled at us and said, “I believe you have some music you need copied?”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, getting into my backpack. I handed her the originals with instructions.

“Will by the end of the day be all right, Mr. Thomas?” she asked.

“Wait! You have been calling me Mikey since I can remember. Why so formal now?” I asked.

“Because now ... you have earned it.” she said walking away from us.

After we left there, I asked Jenn, “What just happened?”

“I think that you are Hot Shit around here these days,” she said.

“Much better cursing than before,” I said.

“I want to be better at it before we begin making love to one another,” she said with a grin.

With my mouth suddenly feeling very dry, I ventured, “And ... when might that be?”

“When we are in high school together,” she said. “I am finding out from my girlfriends where all the best make-out spots are around town.”

I stopped and asked, “Back when you and Bill were together, did you ever... ?”

“Forget about him. He’s in jail awaiting trial. It’s you that I love.”

That perpetuated a nice kiss in the middle of the hall.

“See you at lunch, gorgeous,” I said, as I turned and walked to my first class.

When I walked into my History class, they all stood up and applauded, including Mrs. MacArthur. I always thought she was my prettiest teacher for a woman near my mother’s age. I don’t know her first name, but I intend to find out all my teacher’s full names. A few had children at JHES.

As I sat down, she explained. “Mr. Thomas, we are very proud of how you have handled a difficult situation. Some of the students were saying how they were planning to audition. Who is your audition committee?”

“Myself, my mother Janice Forrester, my girlfriend Jennifer Guthrie ... who will not be involved if she is being considered for that particular solo. Possibly, Mr. Planck and/or Ms. Crabtree. I haven’t asked them yet?”

Stef Baker raised her hand. Mrs. MacArthur called on her.

“Mike, do we have to pick a song from the list? Why can’t we sing a popular song?”

“Great question Stef. There is a distinct difference in singing a Top Forty song, from singing something from LES MISÉRABLES. That very popular Broadway show is currently being turned into a movie. We may ask you to sing a scale to hear your voice. We are expecting a very large number of people at auditions. If we put a different person in every available solo, we would need over forty people. If we have people do more than one solo, we could do it with twelve or so.

“Everybody, let me repeat that, EVERYONE is welcome to audition. It will be the day after tomorrow at Lincoln High School auditorium right after school. It could take a while.”

Another hand shot up. It was Nancy Newman.

She stood up and asked, “Won’t Jennifer be pissed if she only sings one song?”

The classroom erupted in laughter. Mrs. Macarthur glared at her for her language.

“To be honest, a few of the songs seem more attuned for her and her big voice. If we get some new people, girls who are sopranos, she conceivably could get only one solo. I honestly don’t know how she might handle that. I might just borrow somebody’s bicycle helmet when we get to that point.”

The class broke into laughter ... even Mrs. MacArthur broke into a smile.

“One last point to make, your singing voice is only about 75% of our decision. How you look may be a factor. I am sorry for the disruption, Mrs. MacArthur.”

“It’s not a problem, Michael. OK class, you were asked to find out something we didn’t know about the American Revolution...”

Things went just like that all-day long. The teachers were very nice about it. When I got to orchestra, I found them all ready to go.

Either I have scared them to death, or they have finally learned about the concept of not wasting time. I shook hands with Paul, Mr. Planck, as he walked up to start his class.

Their first time through “Buenos Aires,” from EVITA, things sounded good. He offered me a chance to run them through it once. I quickly got my baton out and they had their eyes on me.

I dropped the beat on them. The percussionists on the bongos were having a blast while the violins performed their détachés together brilliantly.

The most important part of an orchestral piece of music is the beginning and the end. They ended with my fists exactly. I gave them applause.

“You have thirty songs to learn in the next fifty days, everyone. Good luck to you all,” I said, leaving them and feeling better about things than I had walking in. I believe my butt had been going as much as my baton.

My left hand, wrist, and arm had begun to hurt. I didn’t want anyone to see me cringe. I sat down for a while resting it. I went to the school nurse complaining of shoulder pain. Nurse Bradshaw gave me a heating pad and told me to sit comfortably.

When she stepped out, I moved it to my arm just below my elbow. She made enough noise that I had it back on my shoulder when she checked on me. I told her that it felt better. It really had.

Next up, was lunch, so I met my girl at our usual table. She saw me favoring my arm.

“What’s wrong, Michael?”

“I had a quick pain during orchestra. I finished the number, but it hurt.” I told her about the nurse. She chastised me a bit, deservedly so.

“Have you been getting questions all day about auditions?” I asked her.

“Yeah, I was asked how many songs I was going to sing? It was strange the way they were asked, by other girls.”

“Did you answer their questions?” I asked.

“I said that I would get what I earned at auditions. Do I really need to tryout? You mentioned the songs I was getting. I will do whatever you ask of me.” She added to that a wink.

“Nancy Newman asked me if you would get pissed if you only got one song to sing? How do you feel about that?”

“Only one song? If ... we get that many girls trying out, I will understand. If I only get one, I would prefer ‘Send in The Clowns,’ she said, now fluttering her big long eyelashes at me, ending with a kiss.

I saw Paul coming towards us. I asked him to sit with us for a moment.

“Jenn and I would like to invite you to be part of the committee at auditions for the next concert They are the day after tomorrow. Are you available? Miss Crabtree will be there too!”

“Are you setting me up with Cece Crabtree, Michael?” he remarked with a raised eyebrow.

“No, we can tell that you are already a couple. I think the whole school knows,” I said.

“Well, Michael, we have been trying to keep it to ourselves,” he admitted.

“Is there any kind of school rule that keeps you from dating each other?” Jennifer asked.

“No. We are trying to keep it from coming off as some sordid love affair.”

“Then, there’s no good reason to keep it quiet. I was worried about some of the same things and all I was doing was pining for the prettiest girl I ever met.”

Jenn leaned on my shoulder and then gave me a kiss.

“Maybe you are right about that,” Paul said. “Cece is easily the prettiest teacher at the school.”

“I agree ... here she comes, give her a big kiss in front of all of us. That would quell the rumors,” Jenn suggested.

“Really, you think so?” he said with a big smile quickly forming on his face.

“You could be as happy as we are,” my girl said with her hand on mine.

“You are absolutely correct. I am going to do it,” he said apparently talking himself into it.

He got up and stopped Miss Crabtree in her tracks. We couldn’t hear what he said, but they were in a marvelous embrace without a care in the world. He gave her an open-mouth kiss.

The kids all went ‘Whoooooooooo’ and they broke up, laughing. She seemed a bit embarrassed. He gave me a big thumbs up as they walked out of the lunch area, probably going somewhere to really make out.

An hour before our school let out, we were allowed to get over to the Lincoln High School auditorium and set up. Mom showed up with Alice in tow. Paul and Cece arrived together, now happily arm in arm.

Thirty minutes later, kids started coming in. I stood up and told them to sit behind us. Mom got up with a complete set of the music and went to the piano that was onstage. I asked Alice to take a cellphone picture of everyone who tried out. She loved having something to do. I turned to my girl and quietly asked, “When do you want to audition, first, last or somewhere in the middle?”

“Not first. I will let you know.”

I glanced over and saw Paul and Cece holding hands. Good for them. At the top of the hour, I stood up and got on the stage. I saw over one hundred kids there.

“Hey everybody!”

“Hey Michael,” they practically said as a single voice.

“Here is how it’s going to work. You come up and tell the pianist what song you are auditioning with. Then, turn towards me. I will ask a few questions of you. Then, you will sing. I will likely cut you off after about twenty-four to thirty-two measures. That is so you can get home by dinnertime.

“Final decisions will be posted on the administrative office windows in the morning.” As I walked back down to sit and listen, I added,

“It doesn’t matter who goes first. Somebody start, please?”

After a bit of silence, a young man I didn’t know walked up on stage and told mom he was singing “Superstar.” He turned towards me.

“Thank you, somebody has to be first. Today it is you. What is your complete name?”

“Richard Michael Mitchell.”

“How old and how tall are you, Richard?”

“Ten and 5ft8.”

“What are you singing for us, today?”

“‘Superstar’ from JESUS CHRIST SUPERSTAR!”

“Whenever you are ready,” I said.

He turned to mom and nodded, then belted out the song, showing off a nice voice.

“Thank you, have her get your upper and lower notes.” At this point, Alice took his picture, and he walked off the stage. I asked her to forward the pictures to me.

I got up and said, “Once you have auditioned, you may leave. If there are any brothers and sisters or any other family trying out, go ahead and be first so you can both leave, if you would like.”

“NEXT?”

Just under two hours later, everyone, save one person, had tried out. Jennifer got up from beside me and walked up on stage, removing the rubber band holding her shoulder length blonde hair in a ponytail. She did one of those hair shakes – causing me to react. About half of those who had previously auditioned stayed, probably just to listen to her.

“What is your complete name, please?”

After a few giggles from the crowd, I heard in a crystal-clear voice, “Jennifer Rose Guthrie.”

I didn’t know that?

“How old and how tall are you Jennifer?”

“Fourteen, and I am 5ft8 in flats.”

“What are you singing for us, this afternoon, Miss Guthrie?”

“‘Memory,’ from CATS.”

My mother turned the pages to it and began...

JENNIFER
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone

(She is going with her purity of tone)

In the lamplight
The withered leaves
collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

(She jumped an octave up)

Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can dream of the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew
what happiness was
Let the memory live again

(Now she was showing off the bottom of her range)

Every street lamp
Seems to beat
a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And the streetlamps gutters
And soon it will be morning

(Her breath control and phrasing were remarkable)

Daylight...
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn’t give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight, will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

(A few measures of Janice playing; she is so very good!)

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies
Another night is over
Another day is dawning

(She went up in her head voice aka ‘falsetto’)

Touch me.
It’s so easy to leave me
All alone with my memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You will understand
what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun

Those who had remained, applauded loudly, and stood up for her. I saw Paul and Cece both wiping away tears — as was I.

“Thank you everyone, that’s it!”

We got Paul and Cece’s notes and thanked them for staying.

Mom came off the stage, and I offered my hand to her.

“You two must have practiced without me. I never heard her sound so angelic,” I said.

I felt an arm enjoin mine. “Liked it, didja?”

“The best you have ever sounded. Like an angel from heaven! What a voice!”

As we left, I turned off the lights and made sure the door was locked. We got home and quickly went through the music giving Jennifer four solo numbers and a part of three others. I had hoped Peter and Isabel would try out, but I hadn’t seen much of them since Billy went to prison.