Chapter 3: Summer and New Friends

That was the first big event of the summer of 1999. The second was even more amazing. I was sitting in on an evening session in the music room at college with John and the usual gang. Both Marianna and Donna Alvarez were there along with Clary, Juan, John, and Ardelle. We were pretty much the core group with two or three others who might join us off and on, but with no predictable regularity. We were messing around with a Fleetwood Mac song, trying to get the sound right when a young woman walked in carrying a music case. I was pretty sure it was a saxophone, and when she opened the case, I could see a well-used tenor sax. That was something we didn’t have, notwithstanding Clary’s skill on the alto sax.

“Hi, folks. I’m Mitzi Goodwin. I hear this is an open jam, so I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I sat in.”

Now Mitzi was a very attractive young lady. No more than five foot tall, but built like the proverbial brick shithouse. We had no idea if she was any good or not, but based on her looks, Clary, Juan and I all immediately agreed she could join us. The girls were a little less enthusiastic, but there were no votes against.

I must have been staring at her as she put the sax together and looked for a chair to sit in. I was brought back immediately to earth with a sharp elbow in my ribs from Marianna. I turned to her and grinned, then shrugged and said, “Hey, I’m a guy. We can’t help it.”

It didn’t take long before we realized Mitzi was very good on the sax and really complemented Clary. When asked, she said she’d learned to play in her high school band. They did a couple of improvisational riffs in a point-counterpoint fashion and it was impressive.

“Are you a student here, Mitzi?” I asked.

“I will be this fall,” she smiled.

“That’s my bother, John, on the drums,” I said. “He’ll be first year this fall too.”

“Hi, John,” she smiled at him.

John flushed bright red and looked down at his drums. It was a sure sign he was embarrassed at the attention, but beneath the rim of his hat was a red face and a smile.

“John doesn’t say a lot, Mitzi,” Marianna explained, “but he’s a hell of a drummer.”

“Great,” she said. “Looks like you’ve got the makings of a neat group.”

“Well, we’ll lose Donna, Clary, and Ardelle this fall as they are off to other colleges,” I informed her. “That will mean we lose our base player, our alto sax, and our second keyboard player. Marianna is a whiz on guitar, I can play rhythm guitar, and Juan is a really great keyboard player. So, we can use a base player at a minimum. A violin player wouldn’t hurt, and neither would another keyboard. In fact, we can usually fit just about anyone in somewhere or other.”

“Nick is being very modest, Mitzi,” Marianna jumped in. “He’s getting very good at finger style on guitar. We switch back and forth since I’ve got three guitars that I use.”

I looked over at Marianna in surprise. I had no idea she was paying much attention to my playing. That was a very nice ego boost. I smiled my thanks and we started to talk about what we wanted to play. Mitzi sat just off to one side of John and was watching him. I wondered if it was going to be a problem between them. He was different and that can put some people off. I hoped not because I was pretty sure the group would vote in favor of John if it ever came to that.

At some point, John was lost in the music, playing the drums. Mitzi had taken a break and was standing beside John, watching him play. He wasn’t putting on a show, but he didn’t appear to be distracted by her being there. Once in a while, he would look up at her and smile, then back to his music. When the number ended, Mitzi put a hand on his shoulder, leaned down, and kissed John’s cheek.

I didn’t know what to think. I had no idea what possessed Mitzi to do that, but it was a nice, tender kiss accompanied with a smile and a pat on the shoulder. John, looked at her in surprise, then smiled. I wasn’t sure what I was witnessing, but it was certainly something different than I was expecting. I thought he might recoil from her familiarity, but that didn’t happen. He just sat there, looking at her, and smiling.

Mitzi gave him another pat, then turned and walked over to me.

“Has your brother been like this all his life?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered, offering nothing more.

“He’s functioning pretty well, but not very communicative, right?” she stated.

I nodded. “That’s pretty accurate. Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking he would be very organized ... a neat-nick.”

I nodded again, “True.”

“I have a cousin who is Autistic ... although at a much higher level than John. I’ve been interested in autism because of that. I take it he is able to function in school, right?”

“Not just function, but excel. He has a memory like a steel trap. Nothing escapes him,” I said with some pride.

She nodded understanding. “You’re both fortunate and wise,” she said.

“How so?”

“Your parents have done exactly the right thing in raising him. You have done exactly the right thing in being his brother. John will succeed because of those two things,” she stated.

“How do you know this? Is this because of your cousin?”

“Yes ... partly. There are degrees of autism, but it is a variable condition that doesn’t fall into some nice neat slots. When it comes to understanding what goes on in the mind of someone with this disorder, it’s still a blank page with little on it.”

“So ... you’ve studied this ... disorder,” I said. “You’ve learned quite a bit about it too.”

“Yes, but not enough to say I’m very knowledgeable. I’m thinking of furthering my education in that direction if I get the chance,” she said.

“I wanted to tell you something,” I said. “I’ve never seen John react they way he did when you kissed him. My grandmother kisses him regularly, but he doesn’t react that way.”

“What about your mother? Doesn’t she kiss him?” Mitzi asked.

“No, my parents are dead. They died when John was two, so he has no memory of them. My grandparents raised us and that’s the only family he knows. My grandparents on my father’s side haven’t had very much contact with us in the last fifteen years.”

“Oh ... that’s so sad,” she said. “But he seems pretty well adjusted, considering.”

“He is, within his own world,” I said. “He’s not very communicative and he’s not outgoing. I would love to find a way to bring him out more. He’s a really neat kid with a massive brain. It’s just that it’s not wired like you or me.”

“Nick, you’re very fortunate that he’s as responsive as he is. I’m sure it must have been frustrating for your grandparents as he was growing up, but they must have done a very good job of supporting and nurturing him ... along with you too.”

“Yeah ... my grandparents are the greatest,” I agreed.

“Thanks for letting me sit in with this group,” she smiled. “I’m sure I’m really going to enjoy it. I don’t plan to study music, but I do like to play. This is the perfect environment for me.”

“So, this is your first year. Where to when you’re done here?” I asked.

“Don’t know. It will depend. I’m here on a scholarship I earned in high school. That and a few bucks I’ve earned in a part time job will probably get me through the two years. After that, well ... it’ll depend on finances,” she said with a shrug.

“Where do you live?”

“Just this side of Cloverdale. My parents have a farm. We grow hay and some alfalfa. They get by, but they’ll never be rich. Dad doesn’t think I need to go to college. I should just get married and let some guy look after me. Kind of old school thinking, wouldn’t you say?” she said, shaking her head.

“Yeah, especially if you’ve got the smarts to do well in college,” I agreed.

“I’ve got two brothers and a sister. They’re all older than me and married off. I just don’t see the kind of future I want staying in Cloverdale.”

“If you had enough money, which college would you go to?” I asked.

“That’s easy. U Cal Davis is the top of the heap for medical science studies.”

“What would tuition cost?” I wondered.

“Tons. Mega thousands, probably. I haven’t even bothered to look. I know I’d never be able to afford it.”

“What about scholarships? Can you apply?”

She nodded. “Yes, but I’m not sure it will be enough. I’d be living away from home and I’d have to pay for that as well as school. I don’t think it’s possible.”

“I have an assignment for you,” I grinned.

“An assignment? What are you, a teacher,” she laughed, poking me in the ribs.

“Nope. But there’s a lot you don’t know about what it would take to get into Davis. Your assignment, should you choose to accept it, would be to examine all the possible options available to you to gain entrance. Do you accept?” I wondered with curious look.

“Huh. You think I should make sure I know what I’m talking about before I give up on my dream, huh? Well, like you suggest, it may be Mission Impossible, but I accept your challenge,” she smiled.

“Very good. You caught on right away,” I chuckled. “After all, better to know than to wonder, right?”

That got me another poke in the ribs and a comment. “You’re pretty smart for a big guy.”

“Thanks, I think,” I said with a wrinkled frown.

I had thoughts about dating Mitzi, if for no other reason that she was a live wire, full of fun and mischief, not to mention a sexy little thing. It took her no time at all to integrate with our mixed group of musical misfits. Unfortunately, I found out that she had her sights set on someone else. I learned that when I asked her for a date.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ve got someone else in mind for a boyfriend. You’re a great guy and if I didn’t have this interest in another guy, I’d be after you like a terrier.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work out with your first choice, keep me in mind. I’m not going anywhere,” I said with a wink.

“I’ll do that,” she promised with a smile.

I had no idea who Mitzi was after since she was only just about to begin her first year at R2C2. It must have been someone from her high school, I guessed. Oh well, I’ll keep looking. I had considered asking Marianna Alvarez since she’d been so good about helping me improve my guitar skills. I’m not sure why I was hesitant. It certainly wasn’t a race thing. She was very attractive with a very curvaceous body to go with her dark complexion. She smiled a lot and said a lot of nice things about my willingness to improve my guitar abilities. Actually, I think I’d learned more from her in the few months we’d been playing together than I had with the teacher that my grandmother hired.

The two of us were sitting together on a bench while I was tuning my guitar’s new strings with the aid of the nearby keyboard.

“Would you like to try my Martin?” she asked completely out of nowhere.

“Your Martin? I didn’t think you allowed anyone to touch it much less play it,” I kidded.

“Well ... normally I wouldn’t, but I can see how well you care for yours and even though it’s not an expensive instrument, you treat it like one,” she said seriously.

“Expensive is a relative term, Marianna. To me, this old flat top is in the same value category as your Martin is to you. It cost me all my savings a few years ago and since I’m a renowned tightwad, I make sure I take good care of it. But going back to your question, I would dearly love to play your guitar. I would be able to hear, for the first time, what a truly great instrument would sound like in my hands.”

She gave me a very big smile, a nudge with her shoulder, then rose and walked over to the stand where the Martin rested. She brought it back, made a quick check of the tune, and handed it to me. It felt so completely different in my hands compared to my modest guitar. It was the traditional Martin look, with a natural light spruce top and mahogany back, ebony pick guard and neck. Its body was larger than mine, while the neck was approximately the same size. It was lighter than I expected it to be, but felt very good in my hands.