Chapter 78

“Guitarists always start in the bedroom”
—Martine Murray, Marsh and Me

PEY WANTED TO KNOW if she could be with me when I recorded this morning. I thought about it and thought about what Riley had said about playing for a live audience. I figured ‘why not?’ Pey had been with me often enough when I played late at night. I reset my room so we could settle into the beanbag instead of sitting upright in a chair. I’m sure Vinnie would have something to say about that the next time I saw him, but no one was paying for this yet. I could always do some editing if Pey got restless, but inside I knew what would happen.

I had six pieces ready to play this morning. One thing about playing the concerts is that not every piece had to be new. I looked up my playlists from previous broadcasts—all the way back to when V2 started posting them. Several pieces I’d relearned and was comfortable with. I chose a mixed program that was half repeat and half new material—for me. Vinnie kept me supplied with new music that he wanted me to learn, even though I only saw him about once every two or three weeks during school. The last time had been the day before Thanksgiving.

Not all classical guitar music is guitar music. It’s not uncommon for Vinnie to send me cello music. In the history portion of our Music Theory class, we’d learned that one of the earliest stringed instruments was the viola da gamba. While it wasn’t a direct ancestor of the violin, there were some commonalities. It had a curved bridge and could be plucked or bowed. It came in several sizes, more reminiscent of the bass, cello, viola, and violin. But far more like the guitar, it had six strings and was fretted. Two of the pieces Vinnie had provided for me were Bach sonatas for viola da gamba.

Pey knew enough to settle behind my right arm so she wasn’t leaning directly against it. I could see the preview on my laptop and smiled at having her in one of her favorite positions. Mom and Dad peeked in the door just before I started the recording and smiled at me.

I started the recording and slipped into a kind of trance as I played. When I was finished, Pey was sound asleep beside me.

16 December 2019

I wonder if I’m doing meditation right. Saturday morning, I was so into my run that the hour and a quarter slipped by with me hardly noticing. And then Sunday morning, I was conscious of what I was playing. I had music there. But the rest of the world just went away. I was even surprised to find Pey sleeping next to me. I’m so glad I’ve connected with my little sister. The old man was a stupid ass.

If my own kids had behaved like I did when I’m meditating, I’d have told them to quit daydreaming and do something. I sort of remember that. I was supposed to go outside and play when I was little. Go mow the lawn. Go ride your bicycle. Go do something, don’t just sit there daydreaming. I guess I could protest that I was doing something when I ran or played the guitar but I still wonder if I was meditating or just daydreaming.

I just know that when I emerge from that bit of time, I feel refreshed and at peace. Is that what V2 felt when he walked in front of a bus? A calm sense of decision—knowing what he was going to do.

I’ll never know, I suppose. I still think he was a stupid idiot. He had everything. He had music. And nightmares. That’s not over for me but I seem to be able to shift from the nightmare to the peace I’ve found with Em. I miss her so much.

My only final on Monday was Intro to Entrepreneurship. When it was over, I didn’t have to return to that class for the rest of the week unless summoned. I hoped Mr. Bryce would review my startup plan and call me in for a review. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to try formalizing my music business.

My other classes were focused on review. The Latin exam would be Tuesday. Music Theory was spread through the week as each person was tested on sight reading. The history portion of the exam would be on Thursday.

I wished there was some way to avoid my two toughest exams coming on the same day. Honors English and AP US History were both scheduled on Wednesday. Trig and Biology would be one right after the other on Friday and I’d be free.

My girlfriends were feeling the stress as well. Monday, we didn’t go home from school until after Livy’s team bus got back from Bishop Luers. How stupid was it for the school to schedule two away games the first two days of final exams? Then a home game on Saturday when we were technically on winter break. We were all dedicated to making sure Livy had all the review she needed.

“Jacob, did you say you had your last period final yesterday?” Cindy asked as we gathered our things from the Music Theory classroom.

“Yeah. It’s a relief not to have to go to another class from here,” I said.

“Would you ... like to practice? We’ve really only spent a couple of sessions going through the music for my recital and I don’t want to pressure you but it would help me to practice with you,” she said.

“That would be great. Just what I need at the end of the day. But ... I don’t have my guitar with me today. Can we practice after class tomorrow?”

“Oh, sure. I didn’t even stop to think about your instrument being a little bigger than my flute case. I saw your new video Sunday night. It was so cute to have that little girl go to sleep on you while you played.”

“My little sister. Sometimes when I’m playing late at night, she comes in and curls up next to me and goes to sleep. I end up carrying her to bed and tucking her in.”

“You’re such a good big brother. Maybe sometime I could come and watch you record. I mean ... I don’t mean ... Not like she did. Curled up against you. I’d just like to listen live,” she blushed scarlet as she realized what she could have meant. She was really cute.

“No problem,” I said, trying to ignore the way she was dancing back and forth on her feet. “I’m trying to figure out a way to have a live audience on a regular basis. It might only be a live stream, but I might try it. I thought it might be easier to do the stream if there were real people I was performing for. I’ll put you on my list for audience members.”

“Thank you. Um ... I need to get going. Um ... See you tomorrow.”

Cindy was a cute little girl, not much bigger than Beca. I could almost imagine her curled up next to me on the beanbag like Pey.

Oh, shit!

Livy and her team pulled out another win Tuesday. She was definitely feeling burned out.

“Do you know what we have to do over break?” she exclaimed. “First we’ve got the damned game at Indianapolis North Central on Saturday and that’s going to suck. First day of winter break and we drive two hours to get creamed by a team that’s on average six inches taller than we are. Then, the next weekend while you are all having fun at PopCon and Jacob is buried balls deep in Desi, we have not one but two tournaments! At least in the Summit Tournament we don’t play on Thursday. But if we win Friday, we play at least one game or two if we win the first on Sunday. But that’s not all. We travel to New Castle Saturday for the Hall of Fame tournament. We might be playing five games in three days at two different venues a hundred miles apart.”

“Poor baby,” Rachel said. “What can we do for you?”

“Take me home and fuck me,” Livy whined. “You and Jacob. ‘K?”

“I think I need a study break this afternoon,” I said. Rachel grinned at me.

“No practice?”

“Huh-uh,” Livy said. “We get one day off because we had two travel games this week.”

“Meet you at your house,” Rachel said.

“That would be such a nice study break,” Joan sighed.

“I could uh ... use a little study break,” Beca said looking up at our girlfriend.

“Oh, yeah.”

I just sat in the music room after class let out and pulled out my guitar. We were lucky there was no seventh period class in the room and Ms. Devine smiled as she watched Cindy and me getting out our instruments. She pretended to ignore us as we put music on our stands and got ready to play. I let Cindy take charge. It was her recital. With this music, the guitar was really just an accompaniment.

I waited for her signal and we started the first movement. It’s six minutes long but Cindy stopped us after just a minute.

“I think you can be a little more aggressive with this part,” she said. “The tones of the flute will tend to overwhelm the guitar if you don’t bring up the volume.”

“Okay. Got it. Shall we try again?” She nodded and cued me in. I admitted to myself that playing a little louder was satisfying. I didn’t want to upstage her with the guitar but she needed the extra support as well. We had another little blooper but just went back a few measures and picked it up again.