Night Music in the Park

I understand Rebekah has been grounded because I sent flowers to her. Rebekah didn't complain to me about it. I learned she got in a trouble from one of our friends. In fact, Rebekah hasn't spoken to me since I sent the flowers. She even moved to the other end of the trumpet section and no longer sits near me in our AP English Literature class.

I assure you I meant no disrespect when I wrote the note on the card. I only meant to thank her for providing the motivation I needed to work hard and improve my trumpet playing. Rebekah and I have never spent a moment together outside of school. I like Rebekah and asked her out once, but she turned me down. I apologize for anything I did that you felt was inappropriate. But the fault is mine, not Rebekah's.

I read the note to make sure there wasn't anything that would get her deeper into trouble. I showed it to Jessi. She thought it was a nice gesture on my part but didn't know if it would help. I sat on the letter for several days before mailing it.

It felt like I held my breath for nearly a week. I was nervous and worried I made matters worse when she still stayed away for the next few classes. But one morning she came into AP Lit and sat in her old seat, to my right.

'Hi, Gabe. Thanks for writing the note to my parents. I'm still in a little hot water but I got my phone back and my mother believes we weren't sinning. My father isn't as convinced but he relented because Mother said she believes you.'

'Why didn't they believe you?' I asked. I wondered why her mother believed me, someone they didn't know, but they didn't trust her.

'Because my father saw me kiss a boy at my last school. My father moved us to get me away from him.' Mrs. Packer came into the classroom and called for our attention before Rebekah could say more.

Things gradually returned to something resembling normal between Rebekah and me. She seemed like herself most days but at times I caught her looking at me weirdly. Like she had drifted off somewhere. Usually she was her old self. Friendly and sweet but reserved while we conversed briefly before AP Lit. or band practice. Or at more length during our occasional lunch together. Other times it almost seemed like she thought I was her boyfriend despite never having spent a minute with me outside of school. She wasn't clingy. Just more attentive. I could always tell when she was going to be in her 'he's my boyfriend' mood because she sat next to me at lunch rather than across from me.

In mid-January, Mr. Hadden began talking about our upcoming Spring Concert and the regional concert. When he handed out the music charts for both events, they were completely different play lists. The Spring Concert was much longer. The regional concert was only two pieces. That wasn't unusual. The regional concert, which brought the four city high school bands together plus seven more from neighboring communities, was also a competition to determine who would represent the district at States. It ran two nights in early April. Mr. Hadden had selected two ambitious pieces of music for the regional concert. The first was one many of us knew well, having performed it two years earlier at the school Spring Concert. The second was completely new to us, the finale from the "William Tell Overture" by Gioachino Rossini.

We were all familiar with it but none of us had ever played it. Mr. Hadden told us to review our parts and begin practicing at home. We'd begin rehearsing the piece the following week. After going over the list of music for both concerts, we got down to business, breaking up into groups and going to smaller rooms where each instrument section would begin learning the music for the Spring concert. Mr. Hadden and the assistant band director, Mrs. Hodge, moved between rooms to provide instruction.

The arrangement for the "William Tell Overture" was ambitious and there was a wrinkle. This was one of my father's favorite pieces of classical music. He especially liked the performance from the British filmBrassed Off. In the movie, there was a short trumpet solo. In this arrangement, it was duet. Rebecca and I had to be perfectly synchronized. That meant we would briefly be the center of attention at the concert. It also meant we would have to make time to practice our part together.

I tracked down Rebekah at lunch the next day. She was sitting with Jessi. Rebekah was smiling and laughing when I spotted her. She got nervous when I sat across from her.

'Hi, Gabe. I see Mr. Hadden has us working together on the "William Tell Overture". Her voice was shaky, betraying her nervousness.

'Is that going to be okay?' I asked.

'I don't know. I still need to talk to my parents about it. I'm not allowed to date or to be with a boy unless chaperoned,' she said softly. 'I'm not sure how it will go over with them.'

Jessi had told me all this, but I'd never heard it from Rebekah. Until that moment, I'm not sure I believed an eighteen-year old high school senior wasn't allowed to spend time with a boy unless chaperoned. 'When are you going to talk to them?' I asked. 'We need to start soon if we have any chance of being ready when we start rehearsing it next week.'

'My parents went to Bible study last night. I was asleep when they got home. I'll talk to them tonight before they leave for church tonight.'

I wondered how often her parents went to church but didn't ask.

The next day before AP Lit began, Rebekah asked if I could come to her house to begin rehearsing that night. 'My parents said we could practice at my house every night except Sunday and Monday. One or the other of them will be with us.'

'Sure. After dinner tonight? Seven to eight, okay? I have other homework to do.'

'I'll tell my parents when I get home.'

I told my mother about going to Rebekah's to work with her on one of our band assignments. 'Can I use your car?' I asked. 'Rebekah lives near Porter Ave.'

'Take Dad's car. Your father is staying home but I'm taking your Aunt Willie shopping. She needs the minivan. Her TV gave up the ghost. She wants to buy a new one tonight. Aunt Wilhelmina was Mom's much younger half-sister. My grandmother died while Mom was in high school. My grandfather remarried a woman in her late twenties when Mom was a senior. Aunt Willie was fun. She was only eight years older than me. It was Aunt Willie that got me interested in trumpet. Plus she'd do stuff with me my mother would frown upon, though nothing horrible.

I didn't mind taking my father's car. He drove a 1970 Firebird that looked like it was almost new. It wasn't a high-performance, muscle car Firebird, but it was cooler than Mom's Caravan. After dinner, I grabbed my trumpet, my music book, and drove to Rebekah's. I got to her house a few minutes early. I waited in the car until about two minutes before seven before going up to ring the doorbell.

Mrs. Turnbull answered the door. She seemed nice when she greeted me. She looked like an older version of Rebekah though she was taller, heavier, and had much bigger boobs. Mrs. Turnbull stepped aside to let me in and told me Rebekah would be right down. When she met me in the living room, where I stood waiting, Mr. Turnbull was right on her heels.

Rebekah looked flustered. 'Hi, Gabe. We're going to practice in the den, downstairs in the basement,' she told me. 'Follow me.' She didn't introduce her father, though I nodded at him to acknowledge his presence. He looked like he wanted to rip my head off. He didn't introduce himself, either.

When we went down into the basement. Mr. Turnbull followed us down the stairs. He took a seat on the couch and turned on the TV with the sound muted. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed it was tuned to one of those TV ministers and he had the captions on. There were two folding chairs and a music stand in one corner of the room. Both trumpets I'd seen Rebekah use were on stands between two nearby bookcases.

Rebekah already had the score open to the passage we planned to work on. After a brief discussion, we got to work. We decided to each go through the passage individually first. Play it straight through without stopping, regardless of any mistakes. Rebekah indicated I should go first. I got through it okay but botched a short series of notes at the end because I mismanaged my wind. I ran out of air when I didn't have time to take a breath. I used too much of my wind in the beginning. I'd already practiced the passage several times the last two nights. I was annoyed with myself for making a rookie mistake but that was why you practice. Learn from your screw-ups in practice so you don't screw up during a performance.

Rebekah didn't get through it perfectly either. But her mistake came in the beginning. When she finished, she giggled. But there was no amusement in it. It was pure nerves. I saw her father glare at her and her giggling stopped immediately. Rebekah tensed. And remained on edge for the rest of our practice session.

We each went through the solo passage individually twice more, each finally getting through it without any glaring errors. We decided to try it together. We got off to two false starts, not quite timing our first notes right. On the third try, we got halfway through the passage when Rebekah stopped playing. We discussed a couple of ideas and began again. Near the end of our hour of practice, I leaned forward to point to a passage we weren't getting in sync. Rebekah leaned forward, too, listening intently. Our shoulders brushed.

Mr. Turnbull exploded. You'd have thought I copped a feel or something.

'That's enough for tonight!' he hollered. 'Pack up your stuff and go home. Now!'

Rebekah looked sheepish and humiliated. I was confused. I had no idea what I'd done. But I hurriedly packed my trumpet, grabbed my jacket, and bounded up the stairs. Rebekah was right behind me and her father right behind her.

'I'm sorry, Gabe,' she whispered when I got to the front door. 'I'll see you in class tomorrow.'

The front door had barely closed behind me when the screaming started.

Mom wasn't back yet when I got home but my father knew immediately something was wrong. 'You okay?' he asked. I nodded but didn't say anything. 'You sure? You don't look okay. You want to talk about anything?'

I knew I could talk to my father about anything. I could go to him for any reason. Even if I screwed up big time, his response would be calm and measured. He'd do anything he could to help me. It didn't mean there wouldn't be consequences if I did something I knew I shouldn't. But I learned young that it was better to own up to my fuck ups than to try to hide them.

'I don't think this is anything you can help with, Dad,' I told him. 'My friend has problems at home. I did something that set her father off and got kicked out. But it doesn't make any sense.'

'What did you do?' he asked.

I hesitated for a moment. I wasn't sure he'd believe me. But I plowed ahead anyway. 'The last thing that happened was my shoulder brushed against her shoulder when I leaned forward to point to something on the score sheet. Her father exploded and kicked me out immediately. I don't get it, but that's the only thing I can figure happened to make him angry. It just doesn't make sense.' I started to head for my room.

'Want me to call her father and talk to him? Get to the bottom of the problem?' he asked.

I stopped. 'I think it will only make things worse, Dad. Rebekah isn't allowed to date. I'm not sure she has any freedom at all once she gets home from school.' I went up to my room and got started on my other homework.

The next day, Rebekah sat next to me in AP Lit just like any other day. There was something different about her, though. The last time I got her in trouble, she stayed away from me. This time, she confidently breezed into class. Like she was master of her domain and didn't have a care in the world. It was a little weird at first. But otherwise everything seemed normal enough. She was still Rebekah, shy, quiet, reserved. But her aura was somehow different.

After band practice that night, I needed to talk to her about practicing together. 'Rebekah, are we still going to able to practice together?' I asked.

'Not for at least a few days, Gabe. I'll let you know when,' she told me. 'Some things have changed. Everything will be unsettled for a bit.' Then she did something I never expected. Not in a million years. She stood on her toes, grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me toward her. When I bent over, she kissed me on the cheek.

Other than when we bumped into each other in the cafeteria or the tight confines of our band practice row, we'd never made physical contact. Well, except for when she poked me in the ribs after my sister stuck her tongue out at me. I hadn't ever tried to kiss her. She certainly hadn't kissed me. Or anyone else at school. Many of the band members still there saw it happen. It wasn't unusual for two students sneak a chaste kiss. Except everyone knew Rebekah didn't date and she hadn't attended any of the school social events.

Terry Southerland gasped, from two rows in front of us where he sat with the other two oboe players. Terry was a nice guy. But he was the eternal optimist. He asked Rebekah out nearly every week over the course of the school year. Most guys gave up after a couple of rejections. Part of the problem was the phrase Rebekah always used, 'Maybe another time.' Terry took the phrase literally and never gave up hope that Rebekah would one day say yes.

It was almost a week before Rebekah and I got together to practice again.

'Gabe, you can come over to practice tonight. Seven sound okay?' she asked.

The prospect of seeing Rebekah's father wasn't appealing but I resigned myself to an evening of tension and nervousness under the watchful, suspicious glower of Mr. Turnbull. 'Okay. Your father knows I'm coming again?'

'He won't be there. Neither will my mother.' Rebekah handed me a piece of paper. 'Here's my new address and my new cell phone number.'

I looked at the address. It was in a nicer section of town than Rebekah's neighborhood, not far from my parent's house. I could walk there, even carrying my trumpet. 'You moved out of your parent's house?'

'Yes. It's okay if you come early,' was all she said before kissing me on the cheek a second time, turning, and walking out.

The address was only four blocks away from my house. When I got there, I recognized the house as Jessi's parents' house. Mrs. Berger owned and operated a garden shop. My mother knew her from garden club. My mother had offered to drop Jessi off one night after a school dance when we were sophomores. I rang the doorbell and heard Jessi yell, 'I got it, Mom. It's probably Gabe for Rebekah. They're supposed to practice tonight.'

Jessi opened the door. Her usual bubbly mood was subdued when she greeted me. 'Hi, Gabe. You and Rebekah are going to practice?' she asked as she leaned against the door frame with her arms crossed over her chest.

'Rebekah lives here with you now?' I asked.

'Not exactly, but yes, she lives here. She has her own entrance around back. It's where my grandmother lived, before she died. Rebekah had a big fight with her parents the night you practiced at her house.' I tried to say something, but Jessi didn't let me get it out. 'Rebekah told me you didn't do anything to get her in trouble. She walked here that night because she didn't know where else to go. She was still crying when she got here. My mother let her spend the night. But not until she called Rebekah's parents and told her where she was.'

'Her parents are okay with this?' I asked.

'She went home after school the next day and they had another big fight. They threw her out of the house. She didn't have anywhere else to go. My parents offered to let her stay here for as long as she needs to.'

'I better get back there. We've got a lot of work to do.' I said. I felt horrible for Rebekah. I turned to go around back but Jessi stopped me.

'Gabe? I probably don't have to tell you this but be nice to her. She's trying to hide it, but Rebekah is still upset. Several times I've gone down to check on her and I could tell she'd been crying. She's scared. She doesn't have any money and feels like she's imposing on us, even though both my Mom and Dad have assured her, and me, she's welcome. You're her closest friend. Don't be the guy that takes advantage of a bad situation.'

'You're her best friend, Jessi,' I replied. 'I'm just the guy from AP Lit and band that she's friendly with. And you don't have to worry about me taking advantage of her. You know I'm not like that.'

'You really don't know, do you Gabe? You're not just the guy from AP Lit and band. You're her anchor. Rebekah's in love with you but she's been too scared of her parents to act on it.'

Mrs. Berger appeared at the top of the stairs above the front door. 'Dammit Jessi, either invite Gabe in or go outside. But either way, close the door. It's cold outside. We can't afford to heat the great outdoors.'

Jessi smirked, stepped outside, and closed the door. The smirk was gone as quickly as it appeared. 'Gabe, she's going to need someone for moral support until she can resolve this thing with her parents. If she can. I don't think she's going to look to me to help her through this. It's gonna be you.'

'Okay, Jessi. Thanks. I better get going. I've got a ton of homework to do after I'm done here.'

Rebekah opened the door before I finished knocking. Her eyes were puffy and red. She managed to get out a weak 'Hi, Gabe,' when she opened the door for me.

I put down my trumpet case and took off my jacket and tossed it on a chair. The next thing I knew, Rebekah had wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my chest. Unrestrained sobs wracked her at first. I felt a warm spot growing on my shirt. I just stood there holding her while she cried.

We must have been standing there long enough for Jessi's parents to get suspicious because we weren't practicing. I heard a door open and saw Mr. Berger's head poke around a corner. He looked at Rebekah and then at me. He could see and hear Rebekah was crying. He smiled sadly at me and disappeared.

We never got around to practicing. I listened to Rebekah's whole story that night. The constant pressure to adhere to her parents' religious expectations. Nearly complete social isolation except for church and school. No dating. No school social activities. She couldn't go anywhere with a friend unless one of her parents was with her. Not even a girlfriend. Her life had been no more than church on Saturday night and Sunday morning, bible study at home every night, school, and homework for as long as she could remember. Her only outlet was band and only because the minister at their last church had approved it as harmless so long as it wasn't rock 'n roll. Her father had tried to take that away from her after he threw me out of their house. That was the last straw for Rebekah. She stormed out of house and walked more than three miles to Jessi's house.

I almost couldn't believe what I listened to. But Rebekah cried almost the whole time I was there. I ended up staying until nine thirty. I had a nonnegotiable ten o'clock curfew on school nights. When I finally took my leave, Rebekah looked horrible. And exhausted. She clutched onto me once again after I got my coat on, nearly squeezing so hard I couldn't breathe. She also kissed me good night. This time on the lips. It wasn't very romantic. But I knew it was heartfelt.

Mr. Berger was in the driveway having a cigarette when I left to go home. I'd seen him a few times at school events but had never spoken to him.

'Jessi tells me you're a good guy, Gabe. I'm sorry I stuck my head in on you and Rebekah, but Mrs. Berger told me I should check to make sure she was okay. Rebekah needs all the help she can get right now. I still can't believe her parents threw her out like that.'