Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

So it’s Sunday and I have a Wind Ensemble concert. Ensembles are half way between music classes and composing on my “things I like scale”. I love performing, I just love composing and performing my own music more. Also, the music that we play is not always the most interesting, so sometimes I would rather be in class. My main gripe is that we play too many orchestral arrangements. Now back in the day, that was pretty much all bands could play besides marches. Nowadays however, there are plenty of composers putting out brand new literature, specifically for concert band/wind ensemble. And if you can’t find any of them, hell, you got one right here. I would love to have one of the pieces from my Bible epic performed in this recital hall!

Wind Ensemble concerts are at 3:00 but we have a dress rehearsal at before that at 1:00. When my family comes, they get here early and I get them free tickets (I have connections). They usually show up between 1:30 and 2:00. During dress rehearsal, I’ll peek my head out of the stage door to see if they’ve shown up, whenever I get a break. I quickly glance up and down the hallway and then run back in. This time however, even after I did this a bunch of times, up until the end of dress rehearsal, I didn’t see them. After dress rehearsal, I ran up the hallway, toward the box office to see if they were around the corner. Still no sign. I went back through the stage door and looked out into the audience to see if maybe they had snuck in. The front row of seats, where my Mom likes to sit was still empty, so I knew they weren’t in there. When I came out into the hall, I saw one of my percussion buddies. He’s met at least some of my family before, so I figured he would recognize them if he saw them.

“Hey, have you seen any of my family around?” I asked him.
“No. They’re not here yet?”
“No. Usually they’re here by the time we finish rehearsal.”
“Maybe we ended earlier than we usually do.”
“Maybe. What time is it?”
“It’s about ten past 2. Maybe they’re just running a little late.”
“I guess. I’ll be outside. If you see them, can you tell them where I am.”
“Sure.”

I stopped at the percussion room to grab my cell phone, then went outside and ran up a few of the aisles in the parking lot to see if the van was there. I didn’t see it. I checked my voice mail to see if they called. They didn’t. I called the house. Got no answer. I figured it was because they already left and were on the road. I stayed outside to watch for them so I would know right when they got here. After pacing around outside for about a half hour, I went back inside. I dropped my phone off in the percussion room, and checked all the same places that I did before. I ran up toward the box office, but they weren’t among the people waiting to go in. I ran back and checked on stage, but the front row of seats was still empty. When I came out from back stage, I even looked up and down the hall again, but they were not here. I went around the corner toward the band room and saw my percussion buddy again, talking with his girlfriend and one of her friends.

“Did you find them?” he asked.
“No, I didn’t”
“Maybe they’re already inside. Did you check..”
“Yeah, I checked in the audience, over by the box office, even out in the parking lot, but they’re not here.”
“Well they’ve been here before, so when they show up, they’ll know where to go.”
“Yeah.”

Now it was time to start filing on stage. The percussionists have to go on last anyway, because we’re in the back, so I took that opportunity to check the parking lot once more. I came back in, just in time to be the last one on stage, but not look like I was late.

I wouldn’t say I played poorly, because the parts weren’t that hard, but my heart definitely wasn’t in it. I kept looking over to that empty front row, hoping I’d see them come in, in between pieces. When the concert was over and the house lights came on, I stayed on stage and looked toward the back of the audience. I figured that if they came in late, maybe they wouldn’t want to come all the way up to the front and just go to the first empty seats they saw. If that were the case however, even if I didn’t see them, they would see me now, and come over to the stage. I kept looking until I was sure that the last few stragglers weren’t them. I walked out into the hall, this being the last ditch effort, figuring maybe they’d be out there waiting for me. As I was standing there, I felt a hand on my shoulder and it gave me a sense of relief. When I turned and saw that it was my percussion buddy, my heart sank (no offence to him).

“Hey, did you end up finding your family?”
“Nope, they never showed up,” I said as I shrugged, kind of annoyed by this point.

I put the percussion instruments away, which only annoyed me further, because everyone else and their families were getting in my way. When I was done, I grabbed my stuff out of the percussion room and headed for the van. I took out my cell phone and when I had a signal (you don’t get reception in the FAC), I checked my voicemail again. I called the house again. Now I was just pissed. What the hell were they doing? Why would they just blow me off like that?