Josiah, Emergent

She said, her voice louder than a whisper now, "A few years ago, I found an old beach ball she blew up, half full, still carrying her breath. I squeezed it out to smell it." She shook her head. "I thought that was the last..."

She looked from Sing to Josiah.

"How can I thank you?" she asked, her voice normal as before.

Sing looked at her forthrightly.

"Ma'am, I'm a professional pianist," Sing said. "Josiah sings. We would like to know if you'd grant us permission to play the song, maybe even record it," he said, looking over at Josiah's surprised expression with a hint of a smile. "I don't think her recording is of a quality that we could make it commercial, at least as it is. The acoustics were just not strong enough for a modern recording, and the tape was old when she used it, the recorder was not very good. But we'd like to offer a contract. Permission to record and sell the song, if we can. If it made any money, you'd get standard percentages as inheritor of the copyright."

Was he saying Josiah would sing for a commercial recording? With his commonplace voice?

Mrs. Crimmins was one better than Sing. She had purposes and virtues, too. She sat back and smiled, thinking before she answered.

"Young MEN," she said with emphasis, "you have made an old woman very happy. To hear her voice again!" She shook her head. "And now forever I can play it for anyone who asks. It's like God won't let us forget her." She shook her head once more. "No, I won't accept any money should a recording of Ava's song sell even a million copies. Instead, give that percentage to defeat GBM. Just attribute it to her. Make sure, if anyone asks, that you tell her story and that she only had enough time to give this one song. Sound fair?"

They nodded. Sing said, "We may write up a contract to that effect, then. You can see we're keeping our side. The lawyer, he might want a signature."

She waved it off. "My husband deals with contracts. He'll appreciate this. I can't wait to play this for him and my sister." She stood up.

"Now I'd be even happier if you'd play and sing it for me, yourselves," she said. "We have a piano in the back."

Josiah and Sing looked at each other. It turned out she had an old upright in the sun room off the back of the house, and Sing sat down at it and played some chords. "It's in tune," Sing said.

"Shelly plays," Mrs. Crimmins said. "My sister."

Josiah sang then, and Mrs. Crimmins sat in the sunroom on a cloudy day and seemed very happy. She was nodding, lounging on a white wicker chair with her hands clasped about a knee. She looked comfortable and normal. She was about the age of Josiah's mother when she passed.

They went through the song twice because she seemed so happy with it; she joined in the chorus at the end.

"I think," she said after they finished, "Ava would have loved to sing with you."

They talked about Ava then, deceased at 19. A promising life never lived. Or perhaps fully lived in its brief time.

When they told her, Cora said she regretted missing that meeting, very much. She gave Sing a kiss on the lips, and kissed Josiah on the cheek, her right arm around his neck.

She said, "You guys have no idea what you did."

CHAPTER 10: Torment

He called Mattie once on the phone, but the conversation seemed strained and awkward. He went to Mass at nine, two Sundays after the library incident and the week after visiting Mrs. Crimmins, and Mattie sat beside him. He said, "I'm so sorry I left you like that. I can't believe I did that."

She looked at him and smiled. She admitted, "I was pretty mad, but I could see you were upset."

"Later, maybe?"

She nodded, and sometimes she held his hand during Mass. He was pleasantly surprised. He wondered if it meant anything to her.

He walked her home then, telling her of the visit to Mrs. Crimmins. When he told her of playing the recording, Mattie stopped and looked at him. She looked from one of his eyes to the other, and held his right hand. When he finished telling of singing for Ava's mom, Mattie stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She shook her head as they started to walk again.

"There's a lot of good in you, Josiah." She was quiet, but she shook her head when he went to talk. She put her fingers on his lips.

"You should see someone. You're not seeing a therapist about your anxiety, about your experiences."

For the first time since he came to Sky Grey, he wished he had followed Vogel's advice.

"It's only the one thing," he said to Mattie. "I just stress over one thing. I wake every morning at 3:09 and it takes me forever to fall back asleep. Sometimes when I think of that bridge, I just sweat and there's a noise in my mind." They walked slowly, and she held his hand as he swivelled with crutches under his left arm.

His voice was controlled, soft, but again the buzz in his head grew louder. After some minutes she squeezed his hand. They came to a bench and sat. Josiah straightened his legs in front of them, blocking the sidewalk, but there were no walkers nearby.

"Do you remember it now?" she asked. He looked around, then into the distance as if searching the horizon for a ship.

He told her again of that day, checking his watch at 10:09, that bridge, those people, but there came a point Mattie was sure something was wrong or just not likely. He grew louder again.

"I dismounted the vehicle, yelling at my guys. Alternatives and ramifications flooded my mind, so much could be going on. She picked her boy up, put him over the railing to protect him but just then an IED went off and they were blown into the water. I was shot then in a firefight. That's all there is in my memory, anyway. That's all there WAS!"

He spoke over the sudden noise in his head. It wasn't tinnitus, but what else could it be? The whole thing was awkward.

Mattie was looking at him. He'd added some things like the exact time, little things except for the IED, and left out others. He didn't meet her eyes. She'd heard a tinge of desperation as he spoke, heard the volume increase and diminish as he struggled to control it and the noise in his head had to be overcome. She saw the perspiration on his forehead and darkening his shirt; he was soaked.

He wanted to say, I'm okay, it's all okay, it was long ago and far away and I'm not, you know, crazy.

He calmed himself. "I remember it, and that's all true. A child and a mother gone just like that."

Mattie said nothing for some time. She realized she'd now heard three versions. Josiah thought she could believe this one because it was true, although she missed the shark. He remembered seeing the shark, but now he didn't remember it as happening; he remembered it as what he told Vogel. In yet another version.

"How many versions were there?" she wondered.

"How many versions were there?" he wondered. He suddenly knew how many versions there were: as many as were needed.

It weighed him down as he realized it was not truth. "Wait," he said, stopping and looking at her. He was better, but he wasn't well. "It's not true. What I just said. I thought it was a minute ago, and now I know it's not." She looked in his eyes.

"A lie followed by an apology," she thought. "He's tortured."

As they came to her house, she said, "You blame yourself for something. A woman and child died right before your eyes. Then you were horribly shot. Don't you think your standards are a little demanding? I mean, would you have expected someone else to save her? Or the kid?"

Josiah nodded. "I know you're being reasonable. Somehow I think I should have saved them." He was perspiring again, and he heard the words weave themselves together so as to convince her, to persuade her. It worked, he thought, she believed him, and he felt satisfaction.

He wondered why he was satisfied. He was losing track of his lies.

Vogel knew he was making things up, just as Mattie now did. She also knew he couldn't find the truth. What woman would love an admitted liar?

She raised her head and kissed his lips then, as he stood drenched in too much perspiration, too much anguish, too much emotion for what he'd said. He knew it, and he knew she knew it.

He said, quietly, looking directly into her eyes for once, "I'm not crazy forever."

She shook her head. She thought, "What am I doing? This is it? I'm finally in love, and this is it? He's crazy."

An answer came to her, and she smiled. She thought it was from God, although it just came to her mind. Perhaps her mother would understand. It was her moment: the moment, she thought, that made her life good or bad. She knew the choice she should make. She looked at Josiah, who had not kissed her, not touched her breasts, not tried to get in her pants. Josiah, who suffered; but she was sure he was good, smart, loving.

He was brave, she became sure. He always left that Humvee, in every version. He didn't shoot into the crowd or order others to kill innocents. Somehow, she knew he went into more danger when he left that vehicle.

He was gentle. She'd seen his eyes as he told her about Mrs. Crimmins. She had to let him know.

"I think you're a good and decent man, Josiah. I don't know how you live with those moments in your memory," she said, her hands holding his shoulders, eyes glistening.

He saw Mattie's eyes, wet with emotion. "I wonder if I ever remember them, will I be better or fully crazy?"

Mattie shook her head. She didn't know.

CHAPTER 11: Favors and Songs

Wedding receptions were their primary work, but they also played parties and dances. Occasionally, if the contractor wanted a larger group, they added a bass player, violinists, guitars, and a drummer. All the musicians were colleagues of Sing and Cora, all young and eager for the work. All were talented and classy, Josiah thought.

They were making some money at it now, and Josiah was actually considering himself a professional singer, guffaw to follow. "Mom," he thought, "I'm a singer!" He imagined her smiling and shaking her head at the way life was working out for him. But he'd heard no ridicule, no criticism of the effort. They had to refuse some offers because they became so busy.

Father Phil asked if they'd play a Mass on the anniversary of the founding of Merciful God in a few months. He admitted he could not afford to pay them, but he emphasized it was a major celebration for the parish. Josiah spoke with Sing and Cora, and they spoke with a guitarist, drummer, and two violinists, and for the publicity and gratitude they decided to do it.

A month after the visit to Mrs. Crimmins, a copyright lawyer sought and received a release from her, with a brain tumor charity to receive a percentage of any profits over $2000. The lawyer was certain they did not need the contract, that actually they could record the song without consideration, but Sing wouldn't hear of it. "I know guys who've played fast and loose with a songwriter's work, and everyone of them has a bad rep forever."

Sing called Mrs. Crimmins and they talked for some time. She said it was a wonderful moment playing Ava's recording for her sister and husband.

"I want a copy of your new recording, when you finish it," she said.

Sing smiled. "It won't be long now. I'm getting everyone together."

They rehearsed and eventually recorded at Sing's friend Bobby's house, whose basement was a sound studio. Bobby was older, an occasional conductor of some of the local orchestras, had his own band over the years, and seemed to know the industry. His large basement was crammed with electronics and a soundproof room big enough for a small orchestra. Bobby was ever on the fringes, watching Sing and the other performers, sometimes whispering things in Sing's ear that Sing judiciously conveyed to a performer.

Sing wanted to make the recording of "Of Hope and Love" using the three of them, several other instruments, and some backup singers. He rehearsed the singers separately for several days and worked alone for several days with Josiah. Josiah worked on diction and all the things a singer can improve.

A few days before the recording, Sing gathered all the singers and rehearsed them together. At first, Josiah felt foolish to be the lead in front of three professionals.

"So you're the lead," the little brunette backup said. "We wondered if you were a real guy or just a figment. Sing was very mysterious."

Josiah smiled. "I'm it. I hope you cut me some slack. I'm just an amateur."

The blonde singer shook her head and smiled. "If Sing says your voice is the one, who am I to argue?" Apparently, Sing's reputation was solid.

During one break, the singers sat and drank some soft drinks.

"Well, I hope my voice is good enough. This is all new to me. I wonder that I'm singing with accomplished people, I don't want to let anyone down," Josiah said to them. They smiled at him.

"I graduated from the Cincinnati Conservatory," the one black woman said, "and believe me, I'd rather sing with you and Sing than some of those so-called pros."

Josiah smiled at her generosity. He asked, "Why'd you agree to work with us? We have no money up front."

One of the backup singers said, "He only cares that the music sound as good as it can. He's sincere, and half of the music pros in this area owe him favors. And we heard the writer's percentage is going to charity."

The other two singers were nodding. One said, "Sing's always worked with us when we needed him. He's calling in favors. But once you agree to do it, he works you like a gym trainer!"

They all nodded at that. Sing had Bobby work with them for another half hour. Then Sing played a recording from one of the instrument rehearsals. Josiah was shocked at the wonderful sound. Bobby practiced with them for an hour to two recordings, nitpicking every voice. He heard imprecise timing when there was none to the amateur ear.

Sing didn't want to record it in pieces, he wanted everyone in the same room, everyone together for final rehearsals and recording. Sing was on the phone a lot, coordinating. "They'll all be here!" he said.

"How many favors did you have to call in?" Josiah asked him during a break.

"All of them," he said and smiled. "There are all kinds of investments in life."

Final rehearsals were resounding, literally. By that time, many in the room hated "Of Hope and Love." No one blamed Sing, possibly because everyone could see that he was prepared and working harder than anyone. Finally, after listening to the musicians play through for the thousandth time, Bobby looked at Sing, and everyone waited a few seconds.

"We're ready," Sing said. "Tomorrow, here, ten in the morning. We want to make several recordings, so it'll be a day." There was a weak cheer and groans. Sing had ruled their lives for the last mornings and evenings of intense practice.

It was important to Josiah. His sudden fear of failure perhaps showed a side of him Sing had only suspected. Josiah had suffered no stage fright when he was bitter and angry, but those qualities seemed to diminish with success and dreams, performances, a girlfriend and a song. People were counting on him. It was their livelihood, their hope, and he didn't want to let them down.

They recorded "Of Hope and Love" several times with variations over several hours. Sing and Cora were flawless, Cora's clarinet very subtle in its loveliness. Lovely tune, lovely and different each time. There were a few mistakes that were corrected; Bobby smiled (which was unusual, Sing said; Cora said she'd never known he could).

When the final variation wrapped, this one with more prominent guitars, Bobby nodded and Sing said, "That's it! Great job, everyone. I'll let you know what we do with it, it'll be soon. Thanks, all of you."

"What are you going to do with it?" Josiah asked Sing when the others had left.

Sing looked at Bobby. "Don't know." Bobby smiled. Sometimes Sing kept his cards close to his vest.

CHAPTER 12: Haunted

Josiah avoided Mattie's family at Thanksgiving and Christmas, making excuses that she did not believe. "It's only been a few months," he said.

"You just can't face people who might be interested in you. Like my brother or sister-in-law."

"She was right," he admitted later.

By spring they were dating occasionally in the evenings, and always together for Sunday Mass. They visited Krohn Conservatory for the flowers, saw the Dayton Dragons play, visited parks. But they were not sexually active. They kissed, but it was usually goodnight and never led to passion.

Mattie spoke with her mother.

"Mom, I'm just not sure about him. Josiah, I mean. He's normal and fun and smart, gentle, and then there will be something about the war or Iraq, and he'll shut down, or his eyes get that dark look. Like he's haunted."

"Do you ask him about it? What's bothering him?" her mother asked.

"Yes, he'll say he doesn't know why his mood changed," she replied. She hesitated and said, "I think that's true. He doesn't understand himself."

Her mother clasped her hands. "Hon, is he okay? Are you safe with him? I mean, is he... mentally okay?" her mother asked very, very seriously. Josiah had been over quite a few times, but he had been quiet, moody, and polite. She wondered how and why her active, beautiful daughter was involved with such a man.

"I think so. But there's something wrong. It's not normal. He doesn't act like other guys act. Like you remember Peter?" Mattie asked.

Her mother nodded. Peter, the doctor, probably about to be rich, had dated her for over a year before it ended. They'd talked of marriage.

"Yeah, well, frankly, he was all over me all the time, Mom. He couldn't control himself. I broke up with him finally because I decided any guy who wanted to have sex that badly and openly showing it... He would touch me at parties, people would see... I thought he might not be faithful, in the long run. And I was right. When I gave back his ring, he said he'd be with his old girlfriend that same night," she said, shaking her head. "He couldn't stop himself from the threat, even though he knew it was mean."

She was shocked at Peter's ignobility when he was interested in sex. She'd thought she was in love with him. They'd had sex, but it became obvious it was the main thing he wanted of her, and he couldn't see anything else.

"I didn't know," her mother said. "We liked Peter."

Mattie smiled and tapped her mother's hand. "I thought I loved him. But I don't think he knew how to love because he was so obsessed with..." she hesitated at the term she almost used, "... with sex."

"Josiah is different?" her mother asked.

"Worlds! He's kissed me a few times, but I've been the one initiating. He has NOT tried to touch me anywhere private," she laughed and her mother joined in. "He holds my hand. I've tried to get him to hold me close and he shies away or acts like he's afraid. I hint and he seems interested but he doesn't do anything. He talks about serious things, or his singing, which actually brightens his face. He talks about his pianist friend and the girl who plays in their group, and he's animated, but..." She shook her head.

"He holds me at arm's length, somehow," Mattie finished. She was dismayed, and she began to weep, silently, softly, so sadly. "Everyone. He holds everyone at arm's length."

"Is he in constant pain in his knees?" her mother asked.

Mattie shook her head. "I went to see one of his doctors with him the other day at Merciful Lord. Dr. Melrose met with us and examined his knees this time.

"I saw his knees clearly for the first time. Mom, you wouldn't believe," she said, "his knees are just a mass of scars and you can hardly see... just lumpy flesh all different colors. I was... it was hard not to cry."