Duet for Countertenor and Alto; Countertenor Melody

Gabe walked down the stairs, his feet leaden. He paused at his own floor, then kept going, walking out the dorm and heading away from the campus without any real goal in mind. He just knew he needed to get away.

Forty-five minutes later he found himself downtown, an area he honestly had never bothered to explore. His whole time in the city had been focused on the conservatory’s small and insular campus. Nothing looked familiar.

Shoe stores. Clothing stores. He looked at their windows blankly, his mind failing to process the images he was seeing. A restaurant. A bookstore. Christmas music everywhere.

A coffee shop registered. Maybe better than wandering around like an idiot. The outdoor seating had been put away with the coming of the cold weather, but there were tables inside. He ordered a large regular from the guy behind the counter, then found a place to sit.

His feelings were all over the map. He wanted desperately to find out what was wrong with Kiko. If she was having trouble with her Mommasaurus, he reasoned there was a decent chance it was because he had taken the alto solo from her.

But her cry of “I can’t deal with you right now” cut him deep. He was hurt, and couldn’t get past it. He found himself staring into the distance, seeing and hearing what was going on around him without processing any of it. His coffee was cold, and he couldn’t remember when that had happened.

“Gabe?”

The sound of his name pierced his brain fog. Startled, he looked up to see almost six feet of a concerned-looking Haley standing over him. “Uh . . . hi?”

His tentative response did nothing to allay her concern. “Are you okay?”

“Am I . . . Oh! Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Uh huh.” She hesitated for an instant before pulling out a wooden chair across from him and sitting down, placing a sixteen-ounce to go cup in front of her. “You look like fresh road kill. What happened?”

He looked down at the ceramic mug on the table he’d been cradling in both hands for so long he didn’t remember, and opened his mouth to say “nothing.” But what came out instead was, “I think I just lost my best friend. And it’s all my fault.”

Haley tilted her head. “Kiko?”

He nodded, still looking down.

“Kinda thought you two were, you know . . . more than just friends.”

That caused him to look up, startled. Like I could ever play in THAT league! “No. Nothing like that.”

“Huh. So what dastardly thing did you do?”

“I took the solo from her.”

Haley shook her head sharply. “No way. She was psyched you got that part — talked a couple of us down from being royally pissed off, so you know.”

“You were?” Gabe squeezed his eyes shut. “I didn’t know . . . I’m sorry. I seem to have really made a mess of this.”

“I said she talked us down, didn’t I? Made us listen. When we heard you sing the part, we knew you earned it.”

He opened his eyes to see her looking impatient. Hastily, he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, well . . . you know . . . .” His voice petered out as he lost the train of thought.

“Stop apologizing already. You’re sitting here beating yourself up for doing what we’re all supposed to be doing — pushing ourselves to be the best, so we can actually get jobs that involve music. And hopefully aren’t limited to teaching, God help us.”

“But Kiko —”

Haley cut him off. “She’s doing the exact same thing!”

“That’s just it, though. She isn’t. She gave the director a recording of me singing Refiners Fire after your auditions. I didn’t know about it. I hadn’t even been in the mix.”

“Whoa!” Haley leaned back in her seat. “She did what?”

So he poured out the story — or, to be more accurate, she pulled it out of him. When he finished describing his encounter with Kiko at the dorm, she said, “Boy, I didn’t see Kiko doing something like that. Gotta tell ya, I sure wouldn’t, and my folks are super chill. Not like that witch of a mother Kiko’s saddled with.”

“I know,” he groaned. “I wonder if I should –”

“Don’t say it! Don’t think it!” she snapped.

“But if I withdraw, Talmadge will have to give her the part.”

“No, no, no!!! First, it’s too late. We’re half way through rehearsals. Second, sure, she’s your understudy. But Talmage will have your ass if you pull out, unless you’re freaking dead or coughing up your esophagus. It’s not professional.”

“I know, I know. But –”

She cut him off again. “Finally, Kiko was right. Your voice is perfect for this part. The performance . . . look, we’ll all sound better if you’re in that role, okay?”

He stared at his hands for a long moment. “You’re right. I know you are. I just feel terrible.”

“It’s not your fault,” she replied, sounding exasperated. Gabe opened his mouth to rebut her, but she held up a hand to stop him. “She’s a big girl. She knew her mom would be screaming mad and she did it anyway. She can’t go blaming you when she gets exactly the reaction she expected.”

“Seems like maybe she does, anyway,” he sighed.

“Then that’s on her.”

Strangely, Gabe found he didn’t want to hear it. He got heavily to his feet. “Hey, sorry. I’ve gotta run. But thanks for listening, you know?”

Haley shook her head, gave him a bemused look, and stood. “You’ve got it bad, bro.”

“Huh?”

“Look. Maybe you just caught her at a bad moment. You’re a nice guy; she knows that. It’ll be okay.” On an impulse, she gave him a quick hug.

“Thanks,” he said awkwardly.

She pulled back, looking surprised. “Are you wearing a bra?”

“I . . . Uh. I mean . . . .” Gabe couldn’t think of a way to finish the sentence. There was no way Haley wouldn’t know what was under his fleece when she hugged him. It really couldn’t be anything else. Jesus! I’m completely fucked! He froze.

“That’s so cool!” Haley beamed. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.” She gave his arm a final squeeze. “See you tomorrow, and . . . good luck with Kiko, okay?” With a final smile, she took her coffee and left.

Gabe stood for a long moment, looking like he’d caught a Major League fastball with his forehead. Half in a daze, he fumbled for his coat and left.

Alto melody, with supporting alto harmonies

Thanks to good genes and relentless maternal pressure, Kiko excelled at many things. Maths and sciences as well as ballet, tap, flute, and, of course, singing. But when it came to self-reproach, she was truly without peer.

After nearly a full day of mental flagellation, she was exhausted, feral, and ready to explode.

She’d tried so hard to keep Gabe from knowing what was going on with her momma. And just as she’d finished another brutal round of criticism, he had to show up to shred the last nerve she possessed. Her explosive temper was yet another gift from her overachieving mother.

Twice she’d stopped by Gabe’s room to apologize, but he hadn’t been there. Or at least, he hadn’t answered her knock. Text — which she used almost without thinking about it — for once seemed too impersonal. She resolved to talk with him either before or after the alto section rehearsal, but he arrived just after Winthrop, left as soon as it was over, and avoided making eye contact the entire time.

As she watched his rapidly retreating back, her guilt gave way to a flare of anger. Seriously? One mistake and you’re going to ghost me? She stuffed her well-annotated score into her lavender backpack with considerably more force than the task required, then stalked toward the exit.

“Like that, is it?”

Kiko spun around to find Haley giving her a measuring look. “Huh?”

“You and Gabe? Splitsies?”

“What? We aren’t even dating!”

“Then he’s free? You don’t mind if I . . . ?”

Kiko felt the blood rush to her face. Gabe and . . . Haley? She’d been hopelessly crushing on Gabe all semester, firmly parked in the Friend Zone with no exit in sight, and this overgrown, sweet-assed . . . musician! . . . was going to just waltz in and take him?

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.” Having said absolutely everything she could think of in that moment, Kiko spun on her heel and stormed out.

Kendra had followed the whole exchange. “Haley, you are so bad!”

Haley chuckled. “I know. I just couldn’t resist. Those two are adorable!”

“They’re clueless!”

“Yeah. That, too.”

Kiko, meanwhile, was headed back to the dorm under a full head of steam, marching as fast as her perfectly-proportioned — which is to say, short — legs would go, cursing the entire time. “Gabe and Haley. Haley! That’s so fucking bogus. Just ‘cuz she’s got perfect blonde hair and cornflower eyes and big freakin’ bazoombas. AND long legs, the bitch. FUCK!!!”

Polyphonic Duet for Countertenor and Alto

She was moving so fast that she almost caught up with Gabe before he reached the building. He might have noticed her, if he hadn’t been completely wrapped up in his own guilt about Kiko and worry about what Haley knew and who she would tell. But no sooner did he get the door to his dorm room open than Kiko exploded out of the door to the stairwell.

“Hey!”

Gabe turned around, started, to see her marching grimly towards him like the ghost of William Tecumseh Sherman. “Kiko! I –”

“Shut up.” She put both hands on his chest and pushed, causing him to stumble through the door. Before he got his balance back, she pushed again. And then a third time, causing him to tumble backwards onto his bed.

“Kiko!!!”

She sat on him. “I said, shut up. I’m sorry about yesterday, okay? You weren’t supposed to know about Momma.”

“O . . . okay, but, then, why . . . .”

“Did I say you could talk yet?”

He shook his head, his eyes wide as egg rings.

“No, I didn’t, did I? So don’t. Talk, that is.” Planting a hand on either side of his head, she bent over and kissed him fiercely.

Although Gabe had never imagined, in his wildest dreams, that anyone might be interested in him, much less that Kiko might be, no member of the species, howsoever diffident, could have remained blind to Kiko’s intentions during the thorough tonsillectomy she proceeded to administer with her tongue. After ten shocked seconds, Gabe’s hands reached upward to embrace the woman who held him pinned, and he returned her kisses with compound interest.

The moment stretched.

When she came up for air, he said, “Kiko?” His voice was tentative.

“What?”

“Can I talk yet?”

“Maybe.”

“The door?”

She appeared to give the matter some thought. “Yeah. Fine. But don’t move, got it?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She slid off him, took two steps and kicked the door closed in the face of a classmate who’d paused to enjoy the show. “Perv,” she snarled.

Then she turned around, taking in the view of Gabe lying on his bed, feet stretching towards the floor. He had lifted his head to watch her. Well, let’s provide something to look at! Slowly, teasingly, she pulled the Aran Cable Sweater she was wearing over her head.

Gabe’s eyes bugged out.

Very satisfactory, she thought. The long red wool skirt followed, pooling around her boots.

“Kiko . . . .”

“Shut up.”

She pounced.

Duet for Countertenor and Alto; Countertenor Melody

It was some time before they were able to have a normal conversation. Not that either of them objected to the delay. But eventually, Gabe kissed the top of her head, which was tucked tight to his shoulder, and said, “Kiko. I’m sorry about yesterday.”

“I’m not,” she replied without moving. “Not anymore, anyway.”

“Because?”

“It sort of worked out?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. But . . . I’m still sorry if I caused trouble with your mom. Will you tell me what happened?”

Kiko said nothing, but burrowed into him even more tightly.

“Please?”

She sighed. “Okay. Momma’s mad; I knew she would be. She won’t come to the performance ‘cuz I’m ‘just’ in the chorus.”

He dug his fingers into her thick, dark, spiky hair. “That’s got to be a relief, though, right?”

She didn’t respond. But, close as the two of them were, she couldn’t prevent him from feeling her tears on his chest.

“There’s more, isn’t there?” His voice was gentle. So very gentle.

“She’s threatening to pull me out at the end of the semester. Says she’s not paying a gagillion dollars if I can’t measure up.”

Gabe froze. “No!!!”

She turned her head just enough to kiss his chest. “That’s why I didn’t want you to know.”

“Kiko, you’ve got to let me withdraw!”

“No.”

“I can’t lose you!”

Despite her tears, she grinned. “You didn’t even know I existed until I jumped your bones.”

“Are you kidding? I fell in love with you the first day I met you!”

“Were you ever going to let me in on that?”

“I . . . uh. I mean, I didn’t think . . . .”

“Uh huh.”

“Seriously. How could someone like you be interested in someone like me? I’m not even sure I’m male!”

She shrugged. “Whatever.”

“‘Whatever?’ Seriously? That’s all you have to say about it?”

She thought for a moment, pausing only to give his chest another peck. “Yup.”

He shook his head, bewildered. “This feeling of somehow being in the wrong kind of body . . . I mean, it’s weighed on me my whole life. Or, far back as I remember anyway. And to you it’s no biggie?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s so weird. I mean, I got almost the same reaction from Haley yesterday.” He stopped speaking abruptly, as he felt his still-very-male genitalia squeezed by a hand that might be small, but was both strong and determined.

“You so much as look at that chick, and I’ll hurt you!”

“What?” He squeeked. “We just had coffee!”

“Hurt you bad, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Get this through your head.” She reared up to give him a stink eye. “You. Are. Mine.”

His smile was pure sunshine after a summer squall. “That’s just the way I want it.”

“Good!”

Ent. Saxophone, solo

John Carey bent to pick up the small pile of mail that had fallen through the slot in the front door, grunting as lower back pain hampered his movement. He’d been going nonstop for months, pushing to get all of the roofing jobs done before the cold weather set in and the fiberglass shingles became brittle. The last three weeks he and his crews had been indoors, mercifully, doing jobs that had been pushed back in the schedule by the roofing work.

Sleep deprived, bone weary . . . and at the end of another long day, nothing but the quiet of an empty house and maybe a can of soup, if he had the energy to deal with it before collapsing into bed.

The bed, of course, had been empty for years.

It felt like he missed her more now than at any time since Gabe was young. He missed her lithe body, her deep brown eyes, the way the sunlight would catch her hair on a summer morning. He missed her compassion and her gentle humor. Most of all, he missed her voice. Such an angel.

Bill. Bill. Solicitation. Charity. Catalogue. The first two went between thumb and forefinger; he’d deal with them later. The rest were destined to hit the recycling bin unopened. He flicked on the kitchen light as he continued to follow the well-worn path that marked the ends of his workdays.

Something from Gabe’s conservatory. That was unusual, since he wasn’t paying them any money. Though that wouldn’t stop them from asking for it; every school was like that these days. Always with their hands out. And, remember us in your will!

With a sigh, he stuck a calloused forefinger under the flap, tore it open, and pulled out a single sheet of creamy paper. Something about a performance . . . Oh. The Messiah. He remembered seeing an email about that a few weeks earlier, but he hadn’t had time to look at it. Still don’t, he thought tiredly.

The circular went on the pile for the recycling bin.

He opened up a can of soup, poured it into a bowl and stuck it in the microwave. Two minutes, and it was ready. Right up there with an MRE. He slowly settled himself into one of the wooden chairs at the kitchen table, favoring the knee he’d re-injured a week before, then started in on the soup.

As he ate, his eyes wandered back to the recycling pile. He wasn’t consciously reading, but a familiar name leapt off the page – “Carey.” He pulled the announcement from the conservatory closer and read, “Alto solo — Gabe Carey.” Huh.

It hurt a bit, thinking of Gabe. John was no Neanderthal, but he’d secretly wanted a son. Someone to carry the name. Take to the lake, on the two weeks he took off each summer. But Gabe was different — different enough that the kid even managed to get himself tied in knots about something as simple as his own gender.

Like most parents, John once had all sorts of fool notions about what his son would be like. The things they would do together.

What was it Lynn used to say? “Man plans, God laughs?” About right.

He was a good enough kid; John had no complaints that way. Didn’t get into trouble; never argued or talked back. Not like the stories he’d hear from some of the guys on his crews. Sure, Gabe wasn’t much of a student, but John didn’t hold that against him. He hadn’t had much use for book learning himself. Despite that, they’d never been close. It was like they existed in different worlds. Different universes.

If Gabe had been into sports, John would have gone to his games. Some of them, anyhow. He’d played football and hockey when he was a boy himself, so he understood them. But Gabe had no interest, and John wasn’t minded to push him.

Gabe’s teachers all said he had a gift for music, but John hadn’t wanted to be part of that world. Not after the cancer took his Lynn away. John didn’t go to concerts or recitals, and Gabe learned to use headphones or earbuds whenever his father was home.

The soup was hot, but somehow it didn’t warm him. He was surprised to realize that he missed his son. Even if they didn’t interact much, knowing another person was in the house was a comfort.

He had a whimsical notion – a rare thing, for him – that he would show up at Gabe’s concert. Alto soloist, huh? But he shook his head. Too much to do. He’ll be home for Christmas, unless he gets work up there.

John finished his soup, rinsed the can, added it to the recycling pile, and took the lot out to the bin in the garage.

Countertenor melody with Alto harmonies and Trumpet introit

“All right.” Frau Talmadge wrapped her knuckles on the podium, ending the full choir rehearsal. “As you know, we’ve got sections practice all next week, then the dress rehearsal on Saturday. I’ll have the orchestra in for that. Thanks to the hard work you have all been putting in, we’re getting very close to being ready.”

Talmadge did not give easy compliments, so her words brought a lot of smiles.

“Any questions?”

No one had any.

Haley watched Gabe and Kiko leave together, arm in arm, then shared a look with Kendra. She started to giggle, which proved to be contagious.

Charity Mason looked from one of them to the other. “What’s the joke?” All that accomplished was to make them laugh even harder.

Gabe and Kiko weren’t laughing, however.

Gabe looked down at his girlfriend — his girlfriend! — unable to contain the joy such a designation brought. Nonetheless, he was worried. “She called you again today?”

“She’s called me every day since the posting,” Kiko admitted reluctantly. “There’s not a lot of novelty to our discussions.”

“Kiko –”

“No.”

“You being here is more important than any singing part.”

She gave him a squeeze of appreciation. “Thank you. I mean that. But you would lose your scholarship if you pulled something like that.” Before he could say anything, she added, “And they would be right. You know that. Besides, like I said at the very beginning, I can’t keep being scared of Momma.”

“I don’t know. She sounds plenty scary – and I’m hearing her voice through the telephone line and clear on the other side of the room!”

“I don’t care.” Kiko’s voice was fierce. “I’m fucking tired of being afraid of her. Of being afraid of anyone. What kind of a person would I be, if I didn’t do what I knew was right just because I was scared of what might happen to me?”

They turned to other things, but Gabe was troubled in his heart and it was a long time before he was able to fall asleep. He gazed at the beautiful woman sleeping in his arms, loving her, and grappling with the implications of the question she had put to herself. Wondering if he could answer it as easily.

What kind of a person am I?

— To be continued

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