Click here for nice stories main menu

main menu   |   standard categories   |   authors   |   new stories   |   search   |   links   |   settings   |   author tools

Silent Majority (standard:other, 1377 words)
Author: GiovanniAdded: Apr 23 2001Views/Reads: 2218/1437Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Allen thinks his mother will finally attend performance where he is conducting a local symphony, but he is worried that it won't meet her standards. he is also about the fight he had with the performers since he cut out one of the songs they were practici

Allen could not help but step in three puddles leaving the bistro;
racing down the street he stuffed his maroon tie into his right coat 
sleeve pocket and dug furiously through his left pocket for his navy 
bow tie. No time to change into his navy blazer, which lay wrinkled on 
the floor of his one room flat, three blocks too many away from the 
church. Allen, who had grown accustom to wearing his waiter's outfit in 
place of his conductor's felt a pit in his throat, momentarily having a 
vision that his mother would be in the audience tonight. Her recent 
letter saying that she would be in town for the week rested against his 
maroon bow tie now. From time to time she came to town but Allen hadn't 
seen his mother in five years. For whatever reason he felt that she 
would see his performance tonight. 

He tried catching his breath before entering the church, but he choked
on the cool air; his cold wet leg shivered. Upon entering he searched 
the audience in a daze, the crowd consisted mostly of people with funky 
thin rimmed glasses, pony tailed men, spiky haired women, dark colored 
shirts and non matching ties: a post modern nightmare. 

Onto the stage he strode avoiding eye contact with the musicians,
fearing that they would turn on him at the slightest unkind expression. 
The two cellists, twin sisters barely voting age, glared at him 
disapprovingly. The woodwinds offered no sympathy either. Then there 
was Gino the ringleader of the violinists who pitted the entire 
orchestra against Allen's last minute program change from Mendelsohn to 
Berlioz. With Allen expecting his mother tonight he had to close with 
her favorite, Berlioz. 

Wiping his brow, eyes focused on the floor Allen began the evening
performance, embarrassed by his waiter's jacket. Two dead light bulbs 
hung above his head. The first few lines of Sibelius were crisp, 
soundly played, evoking a reminiscent air of Beethoven that the 
composer had intended. Shortly thereafter Allen recognized the familiar 
sound of Gino's whining violin, once again out of tune. An ill-timed 
flute drew some laughter out of the sister cellists. The three, the 
flute and the two sisters shrieked for a prolonged period; Allen 
seemingly focused diligently, however he was at sixes and sevens. 
Misplayed notes unwound in his head. 

The second movement began without all the necessary members of the
string section and sweat poured down Allen's back. A man in the front 
row center turned to his wife, pointing out that the conductor's sweat 
stained back matched the shape of the stained glass window's crack to 
their left. 

When the piece was finished and Allen turned to face the audience he
hardly heard the applause, even though he saw them clasping their 
hands. His cynicism was too well molded; he stuck firmly by it. His 
cynicism clung tightly to him the way his damp shirt clung to his back. 
He heard a cough and an echo of laughter. The performers mostly smiled, 
even if they felt differently inside. 

Allen was glum, his lips parted slightly. His arms hung low and tightly
to his sides and his shoulders were tense as if the hanger to his 
jacket hadn't been removed. He saw, of all things, a little boy age 
three or four and his mother in a powder blue bonnet, one in which his 
own mother would approve of wearing. The boy barely able to keep his 
head above the pew in front of him, stepped on top of the kneeler and 
stared into the conductor's eyes. Thirty-five years flashed before him. 
His hands trembled. The boy's mother grabbed his shoulder and pushed 
him back into his seat. Allen watched the audience; many faces stared 
back, but he kept coming back to the boy and his mother. He searched 
the church for his own, his eyes shuffling back and forth. Each time he 
looked back the little boy was squirming in his seat. The Offenbach was 
nearly perfect, which shocked Allen and his chief violinist who had 
played the piece flawlessly till the last two bars. 

Intermission dragged on two minutes too long and Allen made the mistake
of conversing with the violinist. Gino, the violinist was a bona fide 
pest. He chewed off Allen's ear; Allen placated the violinist, looking 
around for his mother; he couldn't even find the woman in the blue 
bonnet that resembled her. Sidetracked he turned his attention to Gino 
and was furious when the violinist demanded that the program be 
altered. Allen stuffed his hands deep into his pockets fearing that he 
might strike Gino if he kept harping on playing Mendelsohn. 

Click here to read the rest of this story (59 more lines)

Authors appreciate feedback!
Please write to the authors to tell them what you liked or didn't like about the story!
Giovanni has 5 active stories on this site.
Profile for Giovanni, incl. all stories

stories in "other"   |   all stories by "Giovanni"  

Nice Stories @, support email: nice at nicestories dot com
Powered by StoryEngine v1.00 © 2000-2020 - Artware Internet Consultancy