leftover desserts without protest. James and Maggie seemed connected in some cerebral way as they spoke in hushed tones. Kellie was affectionate with Secunda, all within the boundaries of decorum. I still wondered how to get past being just pals with Veronica, which at the moment remained the lost challenge of the evening.
As my gaze moved about the table and I watched the interface between our disparate groups, I was filled with pride. There was no division of class or background or cash reserve. We were all in, new friends high on the adrenaline of serendipitous, unexpected relationships. Then I walked to the end of the table, sat next to Veronica and put her hand in mine. I squeezed it gently and then stroked her hair. She held my hand tightly and rested her head on my shoulder.
Officer Tom refused to allow any of us to drive, so Secunda ordered a fleet of Garden cabs and we made our way down Rocky Hill Road. Our destination was the old barn theater that in essence had brought us all together.
17
T he compound looked different under starlight and a clear sky. The dogwood petals were more vibrant, the lush green grass of the parking lot seemed ready to putt for a birdie, the big barn conjured images of theatergoers milling about on the deck discussing the evening’s performance with great enthusiasm.
The cabs pulled into the driveway and came to a quick stop. We jumped out and stood in a circle coupled up and happy. James asked Tommy if he would mind if we broke in. Tommy paused to consider his answer. “Yes I will, but I’m going to be kissing JB over here and that might take a while. Check in with me again in a few days.”
JB shrieked in approval. James grabbed his toolbox and Maggie’s hand and headed toward the theater to “let us in.” This time, if you blinked, you missed his sleight of hand. He turned the lights on and the amber wash in the house radiated romance; all we needed was some music to complete the mood. Secunda and Kellie pushed the piano onto the stage and she sat at the dusty out-of-tune upright and played the ivories. She was good.
While she played a bluesy bit of free-style jazz, we all stopped to take in the magic of the moment. Josh ran to his car and returned with his trumpet in hand. He played a short riff to capture our attention then began a sultry version of Ellington’s “I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good.” When Veronica asked me to dance, we found our way hand in hand to center stage and began a slow foxtrot that I hoped would never end. Maggie leaned into James’s chest, and with arms wrapped around each other, they moved so slightly it was almost imperceptible. JB sat “fifth row center” next to Officer Tom; they held hands and beamed at the unscripted set of events playing out before them.
Ellington turned into Gershwin’s “Embraceable You,” and then, without a change of mood, Porter’s “Love for Sale.” Kellie played the melodies and Secunda jammed a loose yet perfect set of harmony and counterpoint. If you weren’t in the room you wouldn’t believe this was all happening. I held Veronica close and realized I had completely forgotten that the note from Lizzy Barrows remained unopened in my back pocket.
We left the theater and walked the hundred yards to the ocean. Large boulders were visible with each crashing wave, phosphorescent and glowing intermittently in the night. In the distance, the sea was so calm you could understand the old belief that the world was flat.
It was past two and an orange moon sat within reach just above the water. We had all been quiet for some time when Tommy suggested a late drink. We reclaimed our cab fleet and headed to the only bar open after hours. Within minutes we pulled up to the Moondog and I wondered if the magic of the evening would end inside this watering hole.
Veronica and I lingered as the group went in. She held me at arm’s length and said, “I’m sorry about earlier tonight, and yesterday, and
As my gaze moved about the table and I watched the interface between our disparate groups, I was filled with pride. There was no division of class or background or cash reserve. We were all in, new friends high on the adrenaline of serendipitous, unexpected relationships. Then I walked to the end of the table, sat next to Veronica and put her hand in mine. I squeezed it gently and then stroked her hair. She held my hand tightly and rested her head on my shoulder.
Officer Tom refused to allow any of us to drive, so Secunda ordered a fleet of Garden cabs and we made our way down Rocky Hill Road. Our destination was the old barn theater that in essence had brought us all together.
17
T he compound looked different under starlight and a clear sky. The dogwood petals were more vibrant, the lush green grass of the parking lot seemed ready to putt for a birdie, the big barn conjured images of theatergoers milling about on the deck discussing the evening’s performance with great enthusiasm.
The cabs pulled into the driveway and came to a quick stop. We jumped out and stood in a circle coupled up and happy. James asked Tommy if he would mind if we broke in. Tommy paused to consider his answer. “Yes I will, but I’m going to be kissing JB over here and that might take a while. Check in with me again in a few days.”
JB shrieked in approval. James grabbed his toolbox and Maggie’s hand and headed toward the theater to “let us in.” This time, if you blinked, you missed his sleight of hand. He turned the lights on and the amber wash in the house radiated romance; all we needed was some music to complete the mood. Secunda and Kellie pushed the piano onto the stage and she sat at the dusty out-of-tune upright and played the ivories. She was good.
While she played a bluesy bit of free-style jazz, we all stopped to take in the magic of the moment. Josh ran to his car and returned with his trumpet in hand. He played a short riff to capture our attention then began a sultry version of Ellington’s “I Got It Bad and That Ain’t Good.” When Veronica asked me to dance, we found our way hand in hand to center stage and began a slow foxtrot that I hoped would never end. Maggie leaned into James’s chest, and with arms wrapped around each other, they moved so slightly it was almost imperceptible. JB sat “fifth row center” next to Officer Tom; they held hands and beamed at the unscripted set of events playing out before them.
Ellington turned into Gershwin’s “Embraceable You,” and then, without a change of mood, Porter’s “Love for Sale.” Kellie played the melodies and Secunda jammed a loose yet perfect set of harmony and counterpoint. If you weren’t in the room you wouldn’t believe this was all happening. I held Veronica close and realized I had completely forgotten that the note from Lizzy Barrows remained unopened in my back pocket.
We left the theater and walked the hundred yards to the ocean. Large boulders were visible with each crashing wave, phosphorescent and glowing intermittently in the night. In the distance, the sea was so calm you could understand the old belief that the world was flat.
It was past two and an orange moon sat within reach just above the water. We had all been quiet for some time when Tommy suggested a late drink. We reclaimed our cab fleet and headed to the only bar open after hours. Within minutes we pulled up to the Moondog and I wondered if the magic of the evening would end inside this watering hole.
Veronica and I lingered as the group went in. She held me at arm’s length and said, “I’m sorry about earlier tonight, and yesterday, and
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