Preludes, page 12
Anne mirrored her movements, moaning in pleasure at the taste of the chocolate treat. “Why? We need an excuse?” She licked a bit of cheesecake off the side of her mouth. “I just finished that choir commission I mentioned. I’m really pleased with it. I wasn’t expecting to fall so much in love with the poetry, and the music just flowed around the words. I tried some new things too, and I think they really work well with the poetry and the mood I want to create. I hope I didn’t make it too hard for an amateur choir, but I’ve heard this group and they are good. So now the work is over and I have a few days to sit back and relax before the orchestra season starts after the long weekend.”
“How are you going to celebrate?” Jasmine’s eyes twinkled with suppressed mischief.
“Celebrate? With my haircut, and with cheesecake! Did you have something else in mind?”
Jasmine let out a puff of air and cocked her head. “Let’s see. You’ve been all adventurous with the music and your new haircut. So we should stay with that and do something else adventurous. What have you always wanted to do? Come on, Annie. Be wild!”
“Wild? That’s just the opposite of me. We could go shopping in Little India or at Pacific Mall.”
It had been a long time since she had wandered the streets of Little India, eying those beautiful silk saris through large shop windows and stopping into small corner stores for some of the spices she loved so much. A trip to that part of town could be interesting. Or Pacific Mall, with its rows upon rows of booth-like shops, all neat and organised, offering everything an Asian shopping centre could promise. New phone case? A hundred stalls beckoned. Silk scarves? Over that side. Those delicious papaya hard candies or a set of beautiful chopsticks? Right that way. She was thinking of the best way to get there by transit when Jasmine stopped her thoughts with a snort.
“No. Not shopping. Something crazy. Okay, maybe not totally crazy, but different. Adventurous. Something you’ve never done. This is Annie-breaks-out-of-her-comfort-zone time. What about…?”
“Water skiing? No. Scratch that.”
“Zip-lining?”
Anne shook her head. No.
“Axe-throwing?”
“A cake decorating class?”
“An escape room!”
Silence.
Then Anne saw Jasmine raise her eyes to something she saw outside. They were just on the outskirts of downtown, near where Queen Street roared to life with its trendy boutiques, galleries, and cafes, and in the near distance, the CN Tower soared skyward. Once the tallest free-standing structure in the world, it still dominated the city’s skyline.
Anne turned around to see what Jasmine was looking at with such a grin. “Oh no! I’m not a fan of heights. Besides, it’s such a touristy thing to do. I’ve lived here all my life. I’m not a tourist.”
“And how often have you gone up?”
Anne chewed her lip. “Never,” she mumbled.
“Then it’s time to fix that. Come on. We’ll have a blast.” Jasmine pulled out her phone and tapped at the screen for a couple of minutes. “There. We can get tickets to go up this afternoon. I ate the cheesecake. Now this is my treat.”
Anne shook her head, her new hairstyle bouncing and swaying around her face. “Oh, no… I mean… well…” She stopped, then smiled. “You know, you’re right. Let’s do it! I need to break out of this rut I’m in, and this is my next step.”
They finished their treats and walked through the busy city streets towards their destination. The tower, in its massive plaza, loomed up ahead of them, a monolith of concrete thrusting heavenward from the earth, piercing the sky with its needle top. In a few minutes, they had navigated the grid of streets and waded through the crowds to enter the grey stone square. Behind them, massive and squat with its iconic dome, stood the baseball stadium. A short distance away, on the other side of the plaza, was the aquarium. Anne had not been there either. Before them, signed in red and white, was the tower itself.
Anne craned her neck to try to see the top. Two little bugs that were the elevators raced up and down the massive structure, seeming to defy gravity as they clung to the concrete walls. She was going to go in one of those? Her heart started to race.
“Nervous, Annie? Don’t be. And look, what a gorgeous day it is! There’s hardly a cloud, and we’ll see for miles. I bet we can even see right across the lake today. It will be amazing. You’ve got your camera, right?” Jasmine grabbed Anne’s hand and pulled her towards the canopy that led to the ticket windows. In a moment, the deed was done, and they were heading down the corridor to the waiting elevators that would bear them upwards, upwards, to the observation floor over a thousand feet up. Anne’s stomach twisted again.
“Connor has had a bite on one of the resumes he sent in. If he gets the job, we’ll treat you to a dinner at the restaurant.” Yes. Of course. The tower had a revolving restaurant with fabulous views and sky-high prices. How could anybody eat a thing, that high up? Anne gulped. What was she thinking when she agreed to do this? But no: She said she was going to spread her wings, and this was part of it. She forced a smile, although she felt more than a little green.
Eventually, they reached the front of the queue and crowded into the lift. The tour guide started her spiel as the doors closed and the contraption began its ascent.
“Construction began in 1973, and the tower was opened three years later…” The young woman’s canned speech turned to drones in Anne’s ears as she fought the panic that threatened to consume her. Up… up… up… She was not made for heights.
No. She reprimanded herself. You’re safe. You’re going to enjoy it. Breathe in, breathe out. Feel the floor under your feet. Relax and just go with the flow. She had squeezed her eyes closed, almost unaware of Jasmine’s hand still holding her own. Now she took a deep breath and slowly let her eyes open, just a crack. The excited faces around her bore no signs of panic or fear, just wonderment. She let her pupils dart to the side. The world was racing away from them, growing ever smaller through the glass walls of the elevator car. It was terrifying. It was unnatural. It was… rather interesting.
Her eyes opened a bit more.
“You okay?” Jasmine squeezed her hand once, a reassuring pulse.
Anne nodded. “I think so.” Swallow. “I’ve just about convinced myself to have fun. But I might hug the ground when we get down.”
“Don’t worry. We’re not doing the glass floor or the walk around the edge, where they tether you to the building.” Anne felt her face go white. “Next time.” Jasmine giggled and Anne relaxed just a little more.
The ascent took only a minute. “…climbing at 22 kilometres an hour,” she heard the operator say. Soon the lift slowed down and in a moment the doors opened, spilling the travellers out onto the observation floor. Anne glanced down at her feet. The floor looked solid enough, so she stepped forward with what she hoped was confidence. Thank heavens they weren’t on the glass floor right now. Her stomach could not handle that.
Jasmine was right. The day was fine and the vistas glorious. Far below them, tiny toy cars scuttled along grey ribbon roads and highways, while the lake twinkled its deep blue around the islands protecting the city. To the other side of the observation area, the city’s grid of streets spread out in every direction, broken here and there by a river, a park, or some other feature natural or constructed. It was fascinating. Almost exhilarating.
Eventually, Anne relaxed enough to truly enjoy herself as she and Jasmine pointed out landmarks they knew and could identify from this enormous height.
“Look, there’s the University. You can see the music building, just past where the road circles around Queen’s Park. And there’s the concert hall, and there’s the park where we used to hang out.”
“Oh,” Jasmine added, turning a bit. “Can you see that way, past the river? Just by where the road crosses the Don Valley, that’s my old high school. I wonder if I can see my parent’s house.”
And so they went, laughing and reminiscing, until Anne felt quite comfortable despite her initial trepidation. At last, they decided to head back down to earth. Anne needed to get started on her dinner, and Jasmine had some violin students that evening.
“Before we go, Annie, we need photos. Pics or it didn’t happen, right?”
“Uh, sure. Why not? I can’t avoid the camera in this job.”
“And you look fabulous. That hairstyle really suits you. Fun, young, fresh, but sophisticated. There. Stand there. Try to look happy. Okay, smile!”
In a couple of minutes, the photoshoot was complete.
“Send me those two?” Anne asked her friend as she scanned the screen. “I should probably put something on Twitter.”
“Can I upload these to Instagram? I can pretend to be all fancy by association.”
The ride down to earth was a lot less terrifying than the trip up, and for half a moment Anne even thought she might try this again sometime.
Perhaps, just perhaps, spreading her wings would not be so hard after all.
The weekend came quickly, and with it the spate of parties.
First was the barbecue in the Dalrymples’ spacious back garden. Trina, the violinist, had set up tables and chairs all throughout the wide lawn, and had erected a small tent near the house to keep the food out of the sun. As the guests arrived, they placed their pot-luck offerings on the appropriate table there—salads, snacks, drinks, desserts—until it looked a veritable feast, fit to feed hundreds. Carter, her husband, manned the barbecues off to the side of the stone patio right by the deck. There were two such appliances—one for meat and one for vegetarian alternatives—and he moved between them like a seasoned chef. The hot food was their contribution to the affair, plus the buns and condiments. No one would go hungry.
The garden was already busy when Anne arrived. Trina welcomed her warmly and showed her where to put her offering of cookies, then disappeared into the house as someone called for her. Anne looked around. She knew several people, some rather well, and drifted in the direction of Xi and his family. She could see Kevin Walters chatting up Carter Dalrymple by the phalanx of barbecues, his wife Penny looking bored at his side.
Of course, the CEO would want to chum up with Carter. The Dalrymples had deep pockets, as this large house and massive garden evidenced, and he would be a good person to whom to appeal when the next fundraiser came up. Anne hoped to say hello and thank you to her host, but she had little desire to be caught in a conversation with Kevin and Penny Walters right now, so she made a point of not catching his eye as she wandered further into the growing crowd.
She waved at a friend here, said hello to an acquaintance there, and generally acknowledged the people who came up to her. But in all the gathered masses of musicians and their families, she did not see Fred and Louisa anywhere, and was unsure about whether she felt relieved or disappointed that he was not there.
The second event of the weekend—the jazz band at the club with Jasmine and Connor—was better than she expected. She had heard a lot about Connor, but this was the first time meeting him. She selected what she hoped was a suitable outfit: loose dark blue linen trousers and an asymmetrical ivory silk shirt that dipped lower over one hip than the other and that framed her face with a neckline that angled to the opposite shoulder. This shirt brought syncopated rhythms to mind, not quite here, not quite there, always dancing around the beat without alighting upon it. It was just the thing for jazz. She added a pair of dark flat shoes and some chunky gold earrings to make it an outfit, and then bounced around in front of the mirror for a moment, watching the earring disappear behind the long layers of her new hairstyle before peeking back out again. She liked it.
Now for a touch of makeup. A sweep of black eyeliner, a touch of mascara. There. She had eyes again. She reached for her usual neutral pinkish lipstick, but her hand wavered. Just behind that tube was a rich red that Sophia had convinced her to buy on a shopping expedition a while ago. She had worn it once. If a night out at a jazz club wasn’t the place to wear it again, where was? She picked up the red instead of the pink and put a careful layer on her lips. It was a bolder look than her usual one, but with the neutral palette of her clothes and eyeliner, it worked. She was ready for a night on the town.
Connor was not what she had expected. He was very tall and thin, almost to the point of looking unhealthy, a contrast to his wife’s soft, round figure. His face, in repose, was stern, his eyes dark slashes under heavy brows. But when he smiled, Anne could see exactly why the two were so well suited. The forbidding mien dissolved in an instant, revealing a warm and inviting soul within.
“I am so pleased to meet you!” He rose from his seat to shake Anne’s hand, towering above her. “Jaz has talked about you for years, since I met her. She always used to talk about her study buddy who made it big, and now I actually get to meet you.” He stepped aside and pulled out a chair at their little table. “Please.” He gestured and Anne sat down.
“And I’ve heard so much about you. The pleasure is all mine. I’m delighted to meet the man my friend has chosen.”
The waiter came by with menus, and the three pondered their options for a few minutes before deciding. The musicians were to begin their set in about 20 minutes, and the little bar was quite full. “How did you know about this band?” Anne picked up her dark ale. She was so used to hiding behind her drinks. She must learn to move away from this habit.
Surprisingly, it was Connor who answered, rather than Jasmine. “I know Jamal, the bass player, from work. He’s a lawyer in daylight, if you can believe that. This is what happens when the moon comes out.”
Anne cast her eyes to the small stage at the side of the space. The musicians were setting up, adjusting mics and amps and all sorts of things she knew little about. There was a large string bass, leaning its carved side against a tall stool, a keyboard that looked full size, and a couple of stands that suggested the third musician played a variety of wind instruments. Sax and clarinet? She was eager to find out.
Jamal must be the fellow tinkering with the electrical cords leading to the bass. He was a short, round man, clad in the de rigeur black expected of a jazz musician, with a deep complexion and thick natural hair, closer to an afro than a buzz. He looked up and his eyes stopped when they reached Anne’s table. He smiled and waved at Connor, who waved back.
By the time the food had arrived, the band was ready to begin their first set. Anne and her friends had decided to split a platter of flatbreads and dips, some mozzarella sticks with a tangy salsa, and a groaning plate of nachos. It was no health food, but it fed the soul perfectly. Anne toyed with a greasy, crispy spear of fried cheese as the band did its final sound check and launched into their first number.
They were good. She knew little more about jazz than the average music lover, but she knew good music and good musicians when she heard them, and the set passed more quickly than she would have imagined. The three friends ordered more beer while the band took their break, and discussed getting something sweet for the second set.
Jamal now put down his bass and wandered through the bar to their table. “Connor! Thanks for coming. Good to see you.”
“I hardly recognised you without your suit and tie. Come, you know Jaz, of course, but let me introduce you to our friend, Anne. Jamal, this is Anne Elliot….”
The bass player’s eyes went wide. “Anne Elliot? The Anne Elliot?”
“I’m sure there are others,” she mumbled.
“The composer Anne Elliot?”
Jasmine leaned forward. “The very one! She’s amazing.”
Anne’s face went hot.
“It’s a pleasure, Ms Elliot. I’m a huge fan. I cannot just let your music play in the background. I’m always drawn to actively listen. I love how you use tonality and modality in your music, and how you paint such colours with the orchestra. May I?” He gestured to the empty fourth chair and sat down. They talked about music for a short while before he looked up. “Ms Elliot, would you mind if I introduced the others to you? I know they’d be thrilled.”
In a couple of minutes, the other two jazz musicians were at the table, paying homage to the superstar composer in their midst. Marisol played keyboards and the front man, a nondescript fellow who introduced himself as Stick, played everything with a reed, and very well at that. He had started on saxophone, moved to clarinet, then oboe (jazz oboe!), and back to sax.
Just before their second set was to begin, Stick leaned forward to Anne and whispered something to her. No! He couldn’t. He wouldn’t!
Jasmine had heard his request. “Come on, Annie! The new you, right? Go for it.”
The ocean of eager smiles around her finally wore through her reluctance. “Well, alright. Just for a minute.”
The band returned to their stage and Stick took the microphone. “Ladies and Gents, I know you’re here to hear jazz. At least, I hope you are. Otherwise, you’re in the wrong place. But I have just discovered that we are in the presence of greatness. Who here has seen the movie The Butterfly’s Kiss?”
There was a wave of hands in the air and a pattering of applause.
“Who liked the soundtrack? No… who LOVED the soundtrack?”
More hands, and a roar of applause.
“Fucking loved it!” someone yelled out from the floor. More applause.
“Then you will love this surprise. The composer herself, Anne Elliot, is right here with us today. Come up, Ms Elliot. Take your bows. You deserve them.”
Anne pushed back her chair and swivelled through the islands of tables to climb the two short steps to the stage. She was not one to hog the limelight, but there was a certain satisfaction in receiving such acclaim. She smiled in what she hoped was a gracious manner and waved. But Stick wasn’t finished.
“Ms Elliot has agreed to take just a couple of minutes to join us here. This is totally unrehearsed, so you’ll forgive us, but jazz is all about improvisation, and that’s what we’re going to do. You heard it here first, folks.”
