Joe.’
Joe and I started working on one of the bits I couldn’t play, but I still couldn’t quite get it. ‘Never mind, Jack, you’ll get it next time,’ Joe said. Then he laughed. ‘It took Joe Hockey a long time to perfect that particular phrasing and those progressions on the piano.’
It was funny how he referred to himself as if he were someone else. He’d also done it the previous night when he told me I had pride and talked about playing twin pianos, like it wasn’t a good thing to do for his pride. I’d definitely never heard two pianos playing together in a jam session, so either he or Miss Frostbite didn’t play in the jazz band.
The foyer door opened and a head appeared. ‘Tony, you gotta wait in the foyer till I holler. Tell everyone!’ Joe called to him.
It was a quarter to five, almost time for the jam session to begin, when my mom finally returned from seeing Miss Frostbite. ‘I have to hurry, Jack,’ she called up to me.
‘We can work some other time, Jazzboy Jack. Better go say goodbye to your mama.’
‘Wait! I’ll come with you to the streetcar,’ I called to Mom, running across the stage and down the steps.
When I got to her, she said in a low voice, ‘No, Jack, she wants you to stay back a while.’
‘Stay? What for?’
‘Come outside with me.’
‘But the jam session starts in about ten minutes.’
‘Shhh, Jack!’
We walked silently towards the door leading into the foyer. All the band members were sitting around talking, and although some glanced up, they went back to talking. It was obvious they didn’t think they’d been asked to wait in the foyer because of a boy and a woman carrying a lumpy white cotton bag. We hurried past them, out the door and into the late-afternoon sunshine.
‘So, what happened? What did she say to you, Mom? Why must I stay?’ I asked, all three questions tumbling over each other.
My mom stopped walking and turned to face me. ‘It’s all a bit much to take in, Jack. I’ve got to hurry. Can we talk about it when I get home tonight? As it is, I’m going to be late for work. I don’t know why she wants you to stay back; she just asked me if it was all right and said she’d give you your streetcar fare home. I wanted to get away,’ she confessed. ‘People like her are a bit much for such as us, Jack.’
Just then a streetcar came rumbling down the street towards us. ‘Am I in trouble, Mom?’
‘No, nothing bad.’ She kissed me hurriedly. ‘I’m very proud of you, Jack.’ Then she turned and broke into a half run in her good shoes, the cotton bag jumping up and down in her hand as she ran. She stopped for a moment, slung the straps over her shoulder and held the bag tight against her body. ‘Don’t forget to eat your sandwiches!’ she yelled as she started to run again towards the rapidly approaching streetcar.
My whole life was changing in front of my eyes and my mom was thinking about my dinner.
I waited to make sure she caught the streetcar and watched as she climbed aboard, then I waited outside for a minute or so to collect my thoughts. My only hope was that Miss Frostbite would allow me to hit the steps again, and that, by doing my best and playing for them on the stage, I had earned the right to continue to jam under the steps. There’d been no mention of the missing burlap on the pipe.
As I turned towards the front door, I thought to myself that so far they’d been very nice and complimentary about my harmonica playing. But I hadn’t forgotten Mac’s warning that Miss Frostbite was as hard as nails and that this was because a woman had to be tough to run a nightclub. With my mom no longer present, anything could happen. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was forbidden to hit the stairs.
It was still summer and lots of brothers and sisters, the jazz fans who hung about outside listening, had turned up and were waiting in their usual groups. The jam session must be just about ready to start. Maybe Miss
Joe and I started working on one of the bits I couldn’t play, but I still couldn’t quite get it. ‘Never mind, Jack, you’ll get it next time,’ Joe said. Then he laughed. ‘It took Joe Hockey a long time to perfect that particular phrasing and those progressions on the piano.’
It was funny how he referred to himself as if he were someone else. He’d also done it the previous night when he told me I had pride and talked about playing twin pianos, like it wasn’t a good thing to do for his pride. I’d definitely never heard two pianos playing together in a jam session, so either he or Miss Frostbite didn’t play in the jazz band.
The foyer door opened and a head appeared. ‘Tony, you gotta wait in the foyer till I holler. Tell everyone!’ Joe called to him.
It was a quarter to five, almost time for the jam session to begin, when my mom finally returned from seeing Miss Frostbite. ‘I have to hurry, Jack,’ she called up to me.
‘We can work some other time, Jazzboy Jack. Better go say goodbye to your mama.’
‘Wait! I’ll come with you to the streetcar,’ I called to Mom, running across the stage and down the steps.
When I got to her, she said in a low voice, ‘No, Jack, she wants you to stay back a while.’
‘Stay? What for?’
‘Come outside with me.’
‘But the jam session starts in about ten minutes.’
‘Shhh, Jack!’
We walked silently towards the door leading into the foyer. All the band members were sitting around talking, and although some glanced up, they went back to talking. It was obvious they didn’t think they’d been asked to wait in the foyer because of a boy and a woman carrying a lumpy white cotton bag. We hurried past them, out the door and into the late-afternoon sunshine.
‘So, what happened? What did she say to you, Mom? Why must I stay?’ I asked, all three questions tumbling over each other.
My mom stopped walking and turned to face me. ‘It’s all a bit much to take in, Jack. I’ve got to hurry. Can we talk about it when I get home tonight? As it is, I’m going to be late for work. I don’t know why she wants you to stay back; she just asked me if it was all right and said she’d give you your streetcar fare home. I wanted to get away,’ she confessed. ‘People like her are a bit much for such as us, Jack.’
Just then a streetcar came rumbling down the street towards us. ‘Am I in trouble, Mom?’
‘No, nothing bad.’ She kissed me hurriedly. ‘I’m very proud of you, Jack.’ Then she turned and broke into a half run in her good shoes, the cotton bag jumping up and down in her hand as she ran. She stopped for a moment, slung the straps over her shoulder and held the bag tight against her body. ‘Don’t forget to eat your sandwiches!’ she yelled as she started to run again towards the rapidly approaching streetcar.
My whole life was changing in front of my eyes and my mom was thinking about my dinner.
I waited to make sure she caught the streetcar and watched as she climbed aboard, then I waited outside for a minute or so to collect my thoughts. My only hope was that Miss Frostbite would allow me to hit the steps again, and that, by doing my best and playing for them on the stage, I had earned the right to continue to jam under the steps. There’d been no mention of the missing burlap on the pipe.
As I turned towards the front door, I thought to myself that so far they’d been very nice and complimentary about my harmonica playing. But I hadn’t forgotten Mac’s warning that Miss Frostbite was as hard as nails and that this was because a woman had to be tough to run a nightclub. With my mom no longer present, anything could happen. I didn’t know what I’d do if I was forbidden to hit the stairs.
It was still summer and lots of brothers and sisters, the jazz fans who hung about outside listening, had turned up and were waiting in their usual groups. The jam session must be just about ready to start. Maybe Miss
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