Interlude, Polyphonic Duet for Saxophone and Viola

John Carey and Mrs. Agatsuma were quiet until they got outside and started walking back towards the parking lot for the Performing Arts Center.

“I’m not sure how I feel about this girlfriend business,” she said, breaking the silence. “No offense.”

John shrugged. “I can think of a bunch of reasons you might feel that way. I might even agree with some of ’em.”

“Nothing against your daughter;” she said. “I don’t really know anything about her.”

“Is it because she’s another girl?” This could get interesting.

The elegant woman’s gesture was dismissive. “No. That doesn’t bother me at all. I’m not sure it’s a good idea for her to be involved with anyone. Not here, and not now.”

Ah. John thought about what Gabe had told him earlier. “You’re thinking of pulling her from the conservatory.” That got him another sharp look, so he explained. “I’ve just gotten a ten-minute debrief on your daughter, her story, and her many, many virtues. That nugget came up.”

“I see.” Her heels sounded loud on the pavement. “Well, it’s true. This place is hideously expensive, and I’m not seeing the value.”

Probably not the best time to mention that Gabe’s here on scholarship. He just nodded. “I can see that.”

“And anyway . . . how can she concentrate on studies, if she’s spending all of her time on . . .” her hand waved again. “Friends. Girlfriends. Whatever.”

“Definitely could be a problem,” he agreed. “Have her grades been okay?” With a pang, he realized he had absolutely no idea what Gabe’s grades were like.

“Fine – so far,” she conceded. “But how long have she and your daughter been dating?”

“Based on what I heard from Gabe, probably just a few weeks. Might be worth seeing if there’s been any sort of drop since then.”

She gave a noncommittal grunt.

John had managed enough prickly clients to know when to push, and how far, before changing gears. “This whole music thing – it wasn’t what I wanted for Gabe. A place like this just . . . I don’t know. Keeps the real world out? Anyhow . . . she . . . .” He stumbled on the pronoun, but pressed on. “She insisted. After tonight, I’m thinking, maybe she was right after all.”

“Well, naturally. She had the solo part.”

He shook his head. “I wasn’t really thinking about that. When she came here, two years ago, she was still a child. For the first time tonight, I saw that she’d grown up.”

“There are less expensive places to do that,” Agatsuma said dryly.

“True story,” he agreed. “But some people never grow up, and other places might not have worked for Gabe. Very much including all the places I’d had in mind, when I was planning his life.”

“His life?” Another sharp look.

Oh, now you’ve done it, John! But . . . she’ll be even more pissed, if she finds out later. He took a deep breath before saying words he could never have imagined speaking. “My daughter is transgendered.”

“Then, why ‘he’?” There was a truly annoying touch of asperity to her voice. “I doubt your daughter uses the masculine pronoun.”

He bit back his annoyance at her tone. “Honestly, we haven’t discussed it. Until I heard Gabe’s voice singing, ‘who may abide the day of His coming,’ I didn’t know she, uh . . . well. I didn’t know she was a she. I’m still processing it.”

“You found out tonight?” The look she gave him was beyond incredulous; it was closer to “you must be some special kind of idiot!”

Well, fair enough. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Here’s the car. I apologize for the step up.”

She looked askance at the tall pick-up, the exterior a mess of road salt and sand, but said, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He looked down at the petite woman in the stylish long coat and the delicate, impractical heels. A little awkwardly, he said, “Let me help you up.” She took his hand and pivoted up and in — a maneuver she managed with surprising grace. Walking around to the other side, he hopped in the driver’s side and fired up the big V-6. Good thing I keep the interior spotless!

He pulled up directions for her hotel and headed for the road.

She waited until they were on the main street before resuming their conversation. “Your daughter – Gabe? – said something about getting you back after twelve years. Was that because of her being trans?”

“No.” He began to shake his head, then paused and shrugged. “Mostly no, anyway. It’s really . . . . ah. Well. It’s . . . .” God, I don’t want to talk about this. I DON’T. But . . . .

Apparently seeing his discomfort she said, “I apologize. I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s . . . it’s relevant. My wife died twelve years ago. Gabe’s mom. And I kind of
shut down.”

“Left at the light.” She had her phone app out.

“Left. Thanks. Anyhow . . . Gabe and I were living in the same house. He . . . far as I knew then, Gabe was ‘he’ – didn’t give me any trouble. And I . . . well. I worked; I made dinner. I made sure we had a roof and food and whatnot. But we never talked. Not really. There were times Gabe would try to tell me things, but . . . I just wasn’t there. Not really. Somehow, I was still standing at that damned hole in the ground, staring at the God-damned box . . . !”

He hit the turn signal, very deliberately controlling his movement, and brought the truck to a stop at the light. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off like that.”

They were both silent for a moment before she replied. “I would say I understand, but honestly . . . I probably don’t. My own marriage was completely different.”

John looked at her, seeing signs he’d lived long enough to recognize. “Divorce?”

“Yes. If anyone grieves when that ‘man’ dies, it won’t be me.”

The light turned and he made the left.

Again, she broke the silence. “You said it was ‘relevant.’ What did you mean?”

And here’s where it gets tricky. He kept his eyes firmly on traffic as he replied. “I know we’ve barely met, but we don’t have much time, so I apologize if I overstep. The relationship Gabe and I had, these past twelve years – believe me, you don’t want that with your daughter.”

“My relationship with Kiko is nothing like that.”

“No. But it might be, if you don’t allow yourself to see the adult woman Kiko has become. Gabe’s transformation tonight forced me to see him – see her – in a different way, so I saw all the growing up she’s done in a way I probably would’ve missed, otherwise. I guess it was a blessing, that way.”

Mrs. Agatsuma shook her head. “I certainly haven’t seen any similar signs of maturity from Kiko. Especially not after the performance!”

“Funny though; I did. Just for starters, I’m thinking that saying ‘no’ to you takes guts.”

“I’m her mother, not a dragon!”

He smiled. “But, a strong-willed mother, maybe? Forceful, sort of?”

“I would never have survived if I weren’t, and neither would she.”

“I hear you,” he agreed, having made his point. “But anyway, that’s not all I saw tonight. I don’t know much about music; that was . . . that was Lynn’s world. But I can tell just how much work, how much drive and focus, goes into making a performance like that. This place isn’t the ‘real world’ in any sense, but what Gabe and Kiko have learned, in terms of discipline and hard work? That’s what runs the world I know.”

“She can apply the same discipline and hard work to far more promising fields.”

“I’m sure she could, but . . . she’s gotta want it, you know? What I saw from Gabe tonight – what I think you’ll see in your daughter, if you look – is an adult with her own drive, and her own dreams.”

“I can’t just sit back and watch her throw away her life on a fantasy! Right turn at the stop sign in three blocks.”

“Right turn; got it. Why do you think she’s throwing away her life?”

“This dream of hers – singing. Performing. Do you know how many people make it in that business, compared to the number who try?”

“I’ve never really thought about it.” Maybe, he thought guiltily, because I wasn’t paying for any of this. “I guess I figured Gabe would find something, if it didn’t work out.”

“You’re kidding. She’d find ‘something?’ Don’t you want more for her than that?”

“I didn’t dream of doing construction when I was a kid.” He hit the turn signal again and slowed to the stop. “But I met Lynn when I was young, and then we were married, and she was pregnant, and I changed my priorities. What I wanted changed. Sometimes dreams don’t work out, and other things do.”

“Suppose they don’t?”

“Life’s a bitch, sometimes. You do the best you can. I’m guessing you know all about that, since you’ve had to go through a divorce. Somehow, you made it work, and based on everything Gabe told me tonight, you did an outstanding job raising Kiko.” He made the right turn. “You’ve given her all the tools she needs to have as good a shot at life as anyone gets.”

“It’s there, on the left. Two blocks.”

“Yup, I see it. Anyhow . . . Maybe it’s time to slide over to the passenger seat, and see how Kiko does behind the wheel?”

She was silent for the rest of the drive. He parked the truck at the hotel’s circular driveway, thinking there was no way he would waste the kind of money a place like this would charge for the privilege of a night’s sleep. It’s not the money, it’s the principle of the thing. He jumped out, opened her door, and gave her a hand exiting from the high cab.

She stepped down, gracefully once again. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Carey. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“That was the idea. Good night, Mrs. Agatsuma.”

“Good night.” With that, she turned and disappeared into her hotel.

First Alto with Treble harmonies; ent. Trumpet and Saxophone

Gabe watched dumbfounded as her dad took Kiko’s mom off to get their coats. She could tell, when he spoke, that he was trying to help her; backing, in some way, her desperate attempt to talk Kiko and her mom off of the ledge. It just seemed very out of character for the dad she’d known.

“Good timing, girl,” Haley drawled. “I thought things were about to get physical there.”

Gabe turned and and gave Haley a smile before crossing to Kiko and folding her into a proper hug. “Are you alright?”

“Fuck if I know.” She was shaking. “I keep trying to close myself off, and you keep breaking though!”

“Sorry not sorry?”

“You better be sorry,” Kiko grumbled. “Just . . . don’t stop, okay?”

“Promise.”

“Dawwwww! You two are disgusting,” Haley laughed. “C’mon Kendra – our job here is done!”

“Yeah, I gotta find my brother.” Kendra turned to smile at Gabe before leaving. “Girl, you rocked tonight. On stage, and just now.”

Gabe looked down at Kiko. “We should probably do some mingling, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know about you, but I intend to do some drinking.”

Gabe laughed, relieved that Kiko seemed to be recovering her spirits, and they went to join the party together.

They had just filled up a couple tiny cocktail plates with a variety of nibblies when Tamara called them over to a stand-up table she was sharing with a couple who were obviously her parents. “Mom, Dad, here are the two I was telling you about. Kiko, Gabe, these are my folks.”

Tamara’s mother was beaming. “All of you sounded fabulous tonight!”

Her father – clearly a more reserved person – had a voice that seemed rooted in peace and stillness. “Thank you both. I don’t know how it felt to be part of the making of that, but for me, it was an incredibly spiritual experience.”

Gabe looked from one to the other and smiled. “I see so much of Tamara in you both. Your liveliness. Your faith. You must be very proud of her.”

“Oh, we are! We are!” her mother said, switching to high beam.

“Your own faith came out in your singing,” her father observed. “I could feel it.”

“Tamara had something to do with that, too.”

“Did she?” He looked pleased. “I am very glad to hear it. Your voice is an amazing gift. If I may, it seems ideally suited to sacred music. Have you ever sung Pallestrina?”

“In high school, but only a little. I think I might manage it better now.”

“I would like to sing it with you, sometime.” Tamara said, smiling. She drew Gabe into a hug and whispered, “You were amazing. Just amazing. If I wasn’t singing, I’d have been crying.”

They made the rounds and the tension of the confrontation with Kiko’s mom faded. It was hard not to be in good spirits, surrounded by friends who were still on a high from their successful efforts. And the family members and others in the audience were uniformly complementary.

In a quiet moment, Kiko pulled Gabe aside. “So, you and your dad?”

“We’re good. Better than good. I think . . . something happened to him tonight, Kiko. I can’t begin to describe it. But I wasn’t kidding, what I told your mom. I feel like I got my father back.”

“So, you don’t think he’s got a problem with it all? Girly you, cray-cray me, us, kinda strangely put together lesbians?”

Gabe laughed. “No, I actually think he’s going to be okay with all that weirdness.”

“That’s good, ‘cuz he’s been talking to the director for the past five minutes. They look pretty intense.”

“What? He’s back?” Gabe spun around, trying to spot him.

“Pretty sure I’d recognize him in this crowd. To the left, by the side door.”

“C’mon . . . I want you to meet him!” She grabbed Kiko’s hand and started weaving through the crowd.

He spotted her coming and his smile of welcome was like sunrise after the longest night.

“You’re back!” Gabe’s voice carried the barest hint of accusation.

“Don’t look so surprised; her hotel was close.”

Gabe giggled. “I figured you’d use the excuse to get out of a party!”

“Normally, yes. But . . . I was anxious to thank your Director. And you, too, Ms. Agatsuma.”

“Me? Why? And, please call me Kiko. With three syllables.”

“I think I can manage that. For the rest . . . .” He looked at Frau Talmadge, who had a bemused expression on her face. “Not that I’m trying to get out of a party or anything — hush, Gabe! — but, is there somewhere we can have a brief discussion privately?”

“Honestly, I think the crowd’s thinning out. We can slip out without too much trouble, and my office is in this building.”

“Gabe? Kiko? Could I pull you away a few minutes early?”

“Of course,” Kiko replied for both of them.

They left through the side door, and as Frau Talmadge led them down a long corridor, Kiko took Mr. Carey’s arm. “Thank you for driving momma. Can you tell me what happened, or does that get you kicked out of the super-secret parents’ guild?”

“I think I’m allowed to say that, with your mother’s expert guidance — which matched my car’s GPS,” he deadpanned, “we found her hotel without any trouble. I dropped her off and came back.”

Kiko rolled her eyes and looked at Gabe. “Help me out here; I’ve missed out. Is that an example of ‘dad humor?’”

“Yeah.” Gabe took her father’s other arm, a goofy smile on her face. “Isn’t it great?”

“To be fair,” Mr. Carey said, “Gabe probably doesn’t have much more experience with it than you do. If it’s bad, it’s because I’m out of practice. But to answer your real question, your mom and I had a productive conversation, which didn’t resolve anything.”

“Oh.”

“Kiko,” he said softly, “as I pointed out to your mother, you’re a woman now. The only person who can resolve your issues with her is you.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Here we are,” Frau Talmadge said as she turned to unlock a door. Flipping a light switch, she led them inside. There were two seats in front of her desk, and she liberated a third by moving a pile of music. “Please have a seat, everyone.”

She took her own chair behind the desk. “Ms. Agatsuma, I was very surprised that Mr. Carey wanted to speak to me about you, rather than about his own daughter. I wouldn’t have, until he explained why. Mr. Carey, if you would?

He nodded to the Director, then looked at Kiko. “I can’t begin to tell you what it meant to me, when I heard Gabe start to sing tonight. I really can’t. And I understand that I wouldn’t have heard her — she wouldn’t have been singing those solo parts — except for what you did. And except for you, Frau Talmadge, taking the time to listen and believing in her. I know none of you did it for me; hell, I wasn’t even planning to come. But that doesn’t matter. I owe you a debt, and I pay my debts.”

Kiko looked embarrassed. “Mr. Carey, far as I’m concerned, what you did for Gabe today clears any debt you ever had in my book.”

“Well, hear me out. Your mom’s not sold on the value of the education you’re getting here. And honest, if Gabe had asked me to pay these fees two years ago, I’da balked, too.”

“This is one of the best music conservatories in the country!” Kiko replied, exasperated. “And don’t let her fool you, she’s got plenty of money!”

“Life lesson: A pile of money always looks bigger when you aren’t the one that had to work for it.” He held up a hand to forestall Kiko’s response. “Anyhow . . . tonight changed my mind about whether this is a good place for Gabe. And I realized I’ve been doubly blessed. She found a place where she could really grow, and I didn’t even have to pay for it. But that also means I’ve been freeloading.”

“The scholarship was entirely merit-based,” Frau Talmadge interjected mildly.

“I understand that. And I appreciate that Gabe hustled to make that happen. But the fact that Gabe got scholarship money meant that someone else didn’t, and it’s not like I couldn’t have afforded it. I just wouldn’t have done it. Not then, anyhow.”

Gabe giggled at the expression on Kiko’s face. “I said Dad did construction. But it’s his company, he built it, and he employs a whole lot of people.”

Her dad waved that off. “Whatever. I’d still rather swing a hammer. But here’s my point. Kiko, your mom’s where I was two years ago, except she’s paid a fair bit already. She may get over it, and I hope she does – for both your sake’s. If she doesn’t, though, I don’t want you thinking she’s trying to punish you or something. She wants to do right by you.”

Kiko swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s right. The director here says you are every bit as good as Gabe. She believes you can succeed. She thinks you belong here, and I owe her. You think you belong here, and I owe you. So if your momma won’t pay, I will.”

“Mr. Carey . . . .” Kiko shook her head, looking stunned. “That’s incredibly generous. Too generous. You just met me. And, I mean . . . Listen, Gabe and I just started dating. It might not work out. What if —“

“Stop!” He gave Gabe a lopsided smile. “You did mention something about her being stubborn, I guess.”

Kiko barely got past “but” before he stopped her again. “This doesn’t have anything to do with whether you and Gabe stay together. It’s clear — to me, anyway — that you’re both adults; the two of you’ll work it out or you won’t. This is about what you’ve done already, Kiko. What you did for love.”

The room was silent for a moment while Kiko tried to digest his message. Finally, she choked out, “I don’t even know what to say!”

“Kiko?” Gabe’s voice was soft, but as always, somehow, it reached her.

“Yeah?”

“You could say ‘yes.’”

“Doesn’t seem right, somehow.” Through the tears which glistened on her cheeks, the ghost of a smile broke out. “‘Thank-you’ sounds better, somehow.”

“You are very welcome.” Kiko’s ghostly smile found an echo on John’s lips. “If it makes you feel any better, if your momma comes through like I hope she does, the school will get the money as a scholarship for whoever the Director here selects.”

Frau Talmadge blinked in surprise and thought for a moment. “The Administration will certainly hate me for saying this, but I personally wouldn’t want to take advantage of you at an emotional moment. You have a long drive home, and you might feel differently tomorrow. Why don’t you take some time to think it over? You might change your mind.”

“I won’t. Look, I know it’s a chunk of change, but I got no problem spending money, when I have it. I just hate wasting it, that’s all.” He looked down at his hands. “You gave me back my life, the three of you. You gave me back my child, and even my wife. My Lynn.” His voice cracked, and he took an uneven breath before adding, “anyways, like I said. I pay my debts.”

“All this time.” Gabe touched his arm, her eyes glistening. “‘Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped.’”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “That’s just what it felt like.”

She shook her head emphatically. “Not you, Dad. Me. You were there all along – all along! – and I couldn’t see you. Couldn’t hear you. Twelve years, I missed!”

“We missed.” John covered her hand with his own and squeezed. “Time we started catching up.”

Frau Talmadge rose. “Mr. Carey, your offer is incredibly generous, and it will make a real difference – whether to Ms. Agatsuma or to another student. I will inform the Administration and I’m sure they’ll reach out – they’re amazingly efficient at that sort of thing.”

John smiled and stood. “I’d kind of noticed that myself.”

“Well, then.” Frau Talmadge’s answering smile could not entirely hide her weariness. “Wonderful. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I think I’ll call it a night. Much as I hate to admit it, my arm feels like it’s about to fall off. Mr. Carey, it’s been a pleasure. And, Ms. Carey . . . I’m very glad your intercession was more successful than mine.”

Gabe blushed. “I’m not sure it was.”

“I was watching. It would have ended much worse.”

“Did I miss something?” Kiko looked from the Director to Gabe and back.

“Nothing you weren’t supposed to,” Frau Talmadge said repressively. “Now, all of you — out!”

The three departed, with many good wishes. Outside again they walked back toward the parking lot.

“Will you stay for a bit?” Gabe asked her dad.

He shook his head, smiling. “You two need some time to yourselves, and I need to find a motel. Don’t worry, Gabe. We’ll catch up next week. It looks like I’m going to need to buy some different Christmas presents!”

“I have everything I’ve ever wanted.” She linked an arm with his, thinking of how different this Christmas would be. “Dad?”

“Hmmm?”

“Gabe totally works. But every now and then . . . could you call me Gabrielle?”

“Three syllables, right? Like your girlfriend there?”

Gabe giggled. “And a soft “a” sound to start, UNlike my girlfriend.”

“I think I’ve got it. I can probably manage, now and then.” He gave her a hug, and then gave Kiko one as well. “Thank you again, Kiko. Thank you for being there when I wasn’t, and for loving my child.”

She hugged him with all of her strength, then let him go.

He hopped in the cab of his cab, started the engine, and rolled down the window. “Good night, ladies.”

Gabe smiled up at him. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too – Gabrielle.” He pulled away, and they waved until his taillights disappeared.

Gabe sighed. “Oh, my God, what a day!”

“I am so happy for you. He’s . . . wow. I don’t even have words.”

Sensing the sadness Kiko was trying to conceal, Gabe cupped her cheek gently. “She’ll come around.”

“Maybe.”

“Trust the voice of experience here – you’re super persuasive!”

“Why, thank you!” Deliberately switching subjects, Kiko said, “So, how was your first big public outing in girl mode? Everything you hoped?”

“Yeah. But – not to complain or anything! – my feet are killing me. I’ve wanted to get out of these shoes all evening!”

“Oh good.” Kiko’s smile was hungry. “I’ve wanted to get you out of that gown all day!”

Gabrielle’s laugh started at middle “a” and went up for the best part of an octave. She hugged her lover with both joy and passion, then bent to nibble her earlobe and whisper, “Hallelujah!”

— fin.

Author’s note: Well, there you go. No double miracle, exactly, and a bit of an ambiguous note to end on. But life’s like that sometimes. The DM would have had to roll a nineteen twice in a row for Reina to come around as far as John did, and . . . she didn’t. But Christmas is all about hope!

A big thank you to the hardy souls who followed this performance from auditions to the final bow, especially those of you who left kudos on the way. It really means a lot to me.

And to my lovely friends who left comments— whatever would I do without you? I’m sure I don’t know, but “writing stories” probably wouldn’t be on the list! Kimmie, Rachel, Dallas, Alyssa, Bronwen, Lucy, Erisian, Catherd, RobertLouis, Dot, ‘Drea, Joanne, Rebecca, Alison, Dee, Dave, Gillian, Barbie, Lisa, Teri Ann, Annie Rooney, Ricky, Avidreader, Greybeard, DAB2640, — know that you have my heart, and my thanks.

I wish you all a Christmas of hope, joy, and love.

— Emma Anne Tate
December 21, 2024

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.