Date: Fri, 22 Mar 2002 10:40:28 -0800 From: D S <denis141@hotmail.com> Subject: ALONE/TOGETHER- Chapter 26 ~ AXIS MUNDI, Music, Memory. After a rough start, this chapter just sort of wrote itself, and it was kind of fun too. In a way, you could call this one "JC's Turn" - but that's hardly poetic enough for me - LOL! In any case, I hope you like this one, and that you will send me an email if you do. The address is at denis141@hotmail.com. Hearing from you all really does mean a lot to me, so I hope that you will write, especially if you've never written before. DEDICATION: This chapter is dedicated to Giada, my friend from Firenze (Florence), who wrote me a very, very nice email, and thanked me for mentioning her lovely city. It is also for my great friend Aaron, who continues to inspire me to explore what it would be like to be a kid again. DISCLAIMER: I don't know any member of NSYNC, and this story purely a work of fiction. This story also contains male-male sex (albeit mostly implied), so, if that's not your thing, or if you aren't old enough to read such things, you should stop reading now. CHAPTER 26: AXIS MUNDI: Music, Memory. "What, we may ask, could be played in such a way as to reconstitute an experience? Is it something akin to a film or record, played on the brain's film projector or phonograph? Or something analogous, but logically anterior - such as a script or a score? What is the final form, the natural form, of our life's repertoire? That repertoire which provides not only memory and 'reminiscence', but our imagination at every level, from the simplest sensory and motor images, to the most complex imaginative worlds, landscapes, scenes? A repertoire, a memory, an imagination, of a life which is essentially personal, dramatic, and 'iconic'." -Oliver Sacks, M.D., The Man Who Mistook His Wife For a Hat, at 146 (1987). Part One: Aaron climbed the stairs two at a time and ran down the hall to his dad's room. The door was open and he walked inside, glancing at the clothes piled on the bed and the floor. JC was standing with his back to the door in front of a full-length mirror. He was wearing boxer-briefs and a dark brown suit jacket over a white t-shirt. "Dad," Aaron said, not too loudly, knowing that JC startled easily. "Huh?" JC said, his shoulders jerking sharply upward, and spinning around. "Oh - Aaron. I didn't hear you come in. You scared me." "Sorry," Aaron said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's all right," JC said, smiling at him. "I'll survive." "What're you doing?" "I'm trying to decide what to wear tomorrow night at the Grammy Awards," JC said, smoothing the sleeves of the jacket he was trying on. "Wadd'ya think?" "I don't like brown very much," Aaron said, half-tilting his head to one side as he appraised what JC was wearing. And you should probably wear pants." "You think?" JC said, laughing. "Yeah," Aaron said, trying not to laugh himself. "And maybe shoes too." "Oh - shut up," JC said, jokingly. "You're as bad as Lance. Now, make yourself useful and hand me that blue jacket over there on the bed." "This one?" "Yeah," JC said, taking off the brown jacket he was wearing and letting it fall to floor. "Thanks." "You're welcome," Aaron said, sitting on the edge of the bed and watching JC put it on. "Are you and Dad both going to that Grammy thing?" "Yes," JC said, turning his back to the mirror and then looking over his shoulder at his reflection. "I thought I told you." "Maybe," Aaron said. "I forget." "We're leaving tomorrow morning, around eleven." "Okay." "And I thought you might like staying at Justin's house," JC said, walking to the bed and rummaging through the pile of clothes until he found a pair of black leather pants he'd already tried on twice before. "Is that going to be all right?" "Sure," Aaron said, bouncing up and down on the bed and listening for the squeak it always seemed to make when he did this. "Uncle J is cool." "Great," JC said, stepping into his pants and grimacing. "Are you going to be on it?" Aaron asked. "On what?" "The show. That thing on TV." "Yes," JC said, pulling the bottom hem of his jacket up and looking at the back of his pants. "I'm singing one of the songs from my album, the one nominated for 'Song of theYear'." "Can I watch it?" Aaron asked. "I never saw you sing on TV before." "I'm not sure sweetie," JC said, looking at Aaron. "It's on past your bedtime, and you have school the next morning. Maybe we can record it for, and we can all watch it together when your Dad and I get back." "It won't be the same," Aaron said. "I want to watch it when it's on. Please." "Let me talk it over with your Dad, and we'll see." "Okay," Aaron said, standing up and walking back toward the door. "Can I play Nintendo? I finished my homework." "Did you practice your piano yet?" "No," Aaron said, quickly and sharply. "Well, then, no Nintendo then until after you practice." "Dah-ad," Aaron said, turning it into two long syllables. "I hate piano." "No," JC said, stepping toward Aaron. "You hate to practice the piano. Everyone hates to practice the piano. But that's how you learn to play." "I don't wanna play it anymore," Aaron said, staring at JC's chest rather than looking up at what he knew would be a disapproving frown. "It's boring." "Aaron," JC said, lifting his chin so he could look at him. "You're not going to quit the piano. Period." "Whatever" Aaron mumbled, wresting his chin away from JC's hold in it and then turning to leave. "But I still hate it." "That's your choice," JC said, putting his hands on his hips. "But Aaron..." "What?" Aaron said, turning back around to look at JC. "I'll make you a deal." "A deal?" Aaron said, warily. "Yes," JC said. "If you promise that you'll keep up with your piano until the end of the 5th grade, I'll let you can quit then - if you still want to. And if you decide to quit, you can learn to play anything else you want. I'll even pay for it." "Even if I choose drums?" "Even if you choose drums." "Right on!" Aaron said, smiling broadly at JC. "Is it a deal then?" JC asked. "For sure," Aaron said, extending his right hand, palm up. "Great," JC said, pulling Aaron into a quick embrace. "And, yes, you can play Nintendo after you practice your piano - at least until your dad gets back." "Okay," Aaron said, grinning and heading toward the door. JC watched Aaron leave the room and then was surprised when he immediately popped his head back through the door. His blue eyes seemed to sparkle, and the tip of his tongue was poked between his teeth, just barely peaking out through his widening smile. Laughing, JC smiled back at Aaron and shrugged. "What?" JC asked. "I just wanted to tell you that I think those leather pants look cool," Aaron said, scrunching his nose and then laughing. "Thanks," JC said. Aaron disappeared back into hallway and JC listened as he ran to the music room. Then there was the sound of a door opening and closing, and soon after the first tentative notes from Aaron playing the C major scale. JC recognized the notes because he'd played it himself hundreds of time. Finishing the scale without making any mistake, JC listened as Aaron began the scale in B flat. In a year he'll be learning his arpeggios, JC thought, turning back to mirror and smiling at his reflection there. * * * * * "Are you nervous?" Lance asked, as he reached over and patted JC's knee. "About your driving?" JC said. "Yeah - terrified, in fact." "Very funny," Lance said, laughing. "No - I mean about the Awards show?" "A little," JC said. "But not so much about winning, or losing. I don't really care what happens there. Mostly, I'm just nervous about performing. I haven't performed on TV in like five years, and never by myself before." You'll be great," Lance said, patting JC's knee again. "I hope so." "No, you will," Lance said, leaning forward as he watched for the off ramp that lead to the airport. "I'm sure of it." * * * * * Aaron was squatted down and using a soapy brush to wash the rims on the tires of Justin's Jaguar. He had already washed the car's body and the tires were the last thing he needed to get done. A portable CD player sat on the grass behind him. Justin's album from last year was playing on it. Aaron liked a few of the songs on it, but not the one that was playing at the moment. It didn't matter though, because he could hardly hear it over the sound of the brush scraping against tire. When Aaron was finished scrubbing the last tire, he retrieved the hose and rinsed off each of the four tires in turn. The car was gold and it sparkled in the sun. Aaron stood a few feet from it, admiring the job he'd done, then he disconnected the hose from the water pipe on the side of the house, and carried it into the garage and put it away. After going back and emptying the half-full bucket of soapy water, Aaron turned off the music, and carried the bucket and the CD player around behind the house. Justin was sitting on the deck, and Aaron joined him. "Hey slugger," Justin said, as he saw Aaron. "You finish washing the car?" "Yeah," Aaron said, holding his hand above his eyes to keep the sun from shining directly into them. "It looks good too." "Right on," Justin said. "I s'pose you'll be wanting to get paid now, huh?" "That's what you said," Aaron said, sitting the bucket and CD player down. "And so I did," Justin said, standing up and shoving his hand into the right front pocket of his cargo shorts. "Will a twenty do it?" "Twenty?" Aaron said, his eyes widening. "Not enough?" Justin said, looking at Aaron over the top of his sunglasses. "Cuz all else I got is hundreds." "No, twenty is good," Aaron said, not sure whether Justin was joking about giving him a hundred, but knowing that his dad would be mad if he took that much money from him. "Thanks!" "Hey - don't mention it," Justin said, handing Aaron the twenty-dollar bill. "Now how 'bout you and me ordering us some pizza?" "For sure!" Aaron said. "You like pepperoni or what?" "I like just cheese best," Aaron said. "Just cheese!" Justin said, laughing. "You must've picked that trick up from JC, didn't you?" "No," Aaron said, sounding defensive. "I just like it that way." "That's cool," Justin said, ruffling Aaron's hair. "Let's go inside and order it." "Is Dr. Mel coming over?" Aaron asked, following Justin into the house. "Nah - she's at some conference in Chicago," Justin said. "Oh," Aaron said as he watched Justin pick up the phone and dial it. When Justin was done ordering the pizza he helped Aaron find the silverware and plates and glasses so that he could set the table. From the dining room area of house, you could easily see the plasma screen television that had been installed in the wall across the room. The remote control that operated the television could also make it disappear behind a sliding door, and Aaron thought this was a neat trick. Smiling, Justin watched as Aaron made the television appear, and then disappear, four times in a row before turning it on. "You like that?" Justin asked, pointing at the television. "It's really cool," Aaron said, smiling at Justin, and blushing once he realized that he'd been watching him open and close the television screen. "Yeah, I think so too," Justin said, climbing over the back of the white leather sectional sofa that sat in the living room area of the house's main floor, and sitting down. "Do you know when the show's going to start?" Aaron asked. "You mean the Grammy Awards?" "Yeah," Aaron said. "My Dad said I could watch until nine. That's when I have to go to bed, because I have school tomorrow." "That's what he told me." "He said I could watch the rest when they get back," Aaron said. "He's recording it for me to see." "So, A - don't you wanna watch it live?" Justin asked. "Yes," Aaron said, frowning as he joined Justin on the sofa. "But I can't. My dad said no." "I got that problem solved though," Justin said, smiling slyly. "But my Dad said no, and I have to do what he says." "No - that's cool, A. This ain't going to get you sideways with your old man." "I don't understand," Aaron said, cocking his head slightly to one side. "Okay, here's it is - the show's in Los Angeles and it starts at six o'clock," Justin said. "But, see, they don't show it live on the west coast, only on the east coast - cuz it's three hours later there." "Because of time zones? I learned about that in school." "Exactly, my friend," Justin said. "They tape it for the west coast and don't show it until eight o'clock." "So it's recorded, and it's not really happening right then when it's on?" "Correctamundo, A." "Hmmm?" Aaron said, frowning. "But - that's where my plan comes in, kiddo. You see, I got me a big fat satellite dish, and Justin here can get the live feed off it, just like they do on the east coast." "Really?" "Really, truly," Justin said. "And that means you and me can watch the whole thing live and still get you in bed on time. How 'bout that?" "That's great," Aaron said, beaming. * * * * * Lance and JC made their way slowly down the red-carpet toward the entrance to the Shrine Auditorium. The raucous applause and shouting fans, combined with repeated pleas of paparazzi to "look over here, over here", made it all but impossible to carry on a conversation without alternately shouting in each other's ear. As a result, Lance and JC walked quietly, content to simply hold hands. Both smiled broadly, although it seemed that Lance's smile was broader than most, and that he was beaming with obvious pride, so much so that it appeared he was happier about JC's recognition, than even JC. Looking at his watch, Lance was reminded that it had been a birthday present from JC last year, and that it was engraved on the other side with a line from a song, You are the song that always made me sing, and with words, Love always, Josh. Lance felt his eyes sting with the sudden and unexpected threat of tears. Blinking twice, Lance squeezed JC's hand tightly as JC pulled the two of them through the crowd gathering at the entrance to the auditorium and then inside. It was ten minutes to six o'clock. * * * * * "Uncle J!" Aaron shouted from the bottom of the stairs that led to upper level of the house. "It's starting. It's starting." "Okay!" Justin shouted from upstairs. "I'm on the phone. I'll be right down." Aaron ran back to the couch to sit down. He'd brought his pillow with him from home, and now he put it in his lap and leaned his elbows into it. The television showed people walking on a long red carpet and entering the theatre, and then it showed a wide and swooping panning shot of inside the auditorium itself, filled now with all the people attending the show. Aaron searched the audience trying to see his dads, but the camera moved to fast for him to find them. The theme music that had been loudly playing for the first few minutes suddenly faded away and an announcer intoned: "Appearing this year on the 52nd Annual Grammy Awards show..." Aaron listened intently as each performer's name was announced, not noticing as Justin walked up behind him. It wasn't more than a minute or before Aaron heard the announcer say, "Joshua Chasez, this year nominated for six Grammy Awards, including Best Pop Vocal Album of the Year, Best Song of the Year, and Best Album of the Year." "Wow!" Aaron said, not realizing that he had started to bounce up and down on the couch as he watched and listened. "Hey, buddy," Justin said, resting his hand on Aaron's shoulder to gently restrain the bouncing. "Chill - you keep up at this pace, your head's gonna explode." "Sorry, Uncle J," Aaron said, turning around and grinning at him. "I guess I'm kind of excited." "That's cool," Justin said. "It's your dad. Be as excited as you want. I just didn't want you bouncing yourself on to the floor. So have you seen 'em yet?" "Not yet." "Well, they're probably in the front row," Justin said, sitting down next to Aaron. "They always put you in front if you're a big nominee and you're going to perform." "Did you ever win a Grammy?" Aaron asked. "Like when you were singing with my dads, or after that?" "When we was still NSync, we got nominated a bunch of times," Justin said. "But we never won." "That's too bad," Aaron said. "Yeah - well, that's life," Justin said. "We never got much respect, but we sold a hella lot of records, and people liked us. So that's what matters." "I hope my dad wins," Aaron said, looking at Justin, and making it plain by the nervous expression on his face that he was hoping for reassurance. "You never know, A," Justin said, patting him on the back. "But it's good to hope and stuff, because...." "Hey!" Aaron said loudly, pointing at the television. "There they are!" Justin turned to look at the television. The nominees for the first award of the evening were being read, Best Male Pop Vocal Performance. Nelly Furtado had read the first four nominees and was now announcing the last one. "...and Joshua Chasez, for 'If I'm Here, This Must Be the Place'." Aaron stared at the television, saying nothing. He had started bouncing on the couch again. Justin reached out to put his hand on Aaron's shoulder again, but smiled and pulled it back, thinking, Bounce away kid, this is your night. "...and this year's winner is, Joshua Chasez, for..." Hearing his dad's name, Aaron stood up on the couch, and began to jump up and down and clap his hands together. Justin watched him, and could not help but feel almost jealous of how plainly overjoyed Aaron was to see his dad win this award. He had really not known whether JC had a chance of winning - even though he begrudgingly admitted he'd deserved to win - just as Justin believed that he'd deserved to win himself last year, but didn't. Justin looked back at the television, and the close-up of Lance, who was now jumping up and down too, and clapping madly. * * * * * JC was backstage in one of the two dozen or so dressing rooms there. He was due to be on-stage in three minutes and he was trying calm down before going on to sing the song for which he'd been nominated for Record of the Year. It'd already won Song of the Year, his second trip to the podium tonight. Looking at his left hand, he smiled at the red marks that lingered there from Lance's near-constant squeezing of it every time JC's name was read as a nominee. JC turned slightly in his chair, and glanced at the monitor that sat on the counter. He had turned the sound down, and its picture emitted a faint bluish glow, like the moon on a cloudy. As he looked at it more closely, he realized that the nominees for the Best Pop Collaboration with Vocals were being read. He reached over and turned the sound up. Beck was the category's presenter, and he ripped open the envelope and said: "This year's winner is...Joshua Chasez and Neil Tennant for 'If Love Were All.'" JC considered trying to make it to the stage in time to accept the award with Neil, but he decided that it wasn't worth the effort and, besides, it'd been Neil's idea to remake the song as a bonus track, and as a way of dedicating it to Shirley. Laughing, JC watched as Neil made his way up the stairs to the podium, a look of utter shock on his face. "Well, ain't this a bloody gas!" Neil said, as he grasped the two Grammy Awards and then set them on the podium in front of him. "I've been doing this thirty odd years without winning one of these things, then I hook up with a bloke who used to be in a freaking boy band and - whammo - it's mine!" "Seriously, though," Neil continued, after the audience's laughter and clapping had subsided. "I really do want to thank you all for this lovely award, personally, and on behalf of Joshua, who I fear is stuck backstage somewhere getting ready to go on. But I'll tell you what, since he's not here, I can tell you a couple of things, one you probably know, and the other not." "The thing I think you know, at least now, is that Joshua Chasez is an immensely talented man, and it was a genuine pleasure to work with him in bringing this creation of his to life. So I really do want to thank him for inviting me to work on this." "The second thing, and this is the secret bit I'm going to come clean on, is that I was a huge Nsync fan back when, and I had a mighty crush on Josh. Still do, I suppose, but...now, now, please sit down Mr. Bass...no need to rush the stage. I'm harmless." The audience erupted into laughter, and JC - who had been watching the whole thing from his dressing room - erupted into laughter too. It had been a joy working with Neil, and he thought back on the times he'd had dinner at the house with them, and how he'd taught Aaron to do several magic tricks. As JC thought about this, and the music he and Neil had been working on back then (and how it seemed now to be so long again), he was startled by a knock at the door, and the sound of someone saying: "One minute." * * * * * Aaron lay now on the couch, his legs stretched out so that his bare feet were slid beneath Justin's thigh. Justin periodically looked in Aaron's direction to see whether he'd fallen asleep. The show had been on for two and a half-hours and the final awards were about to be announced, and Justin wondered if Aaron would be able to make it to the end. JC had won four awards already, and Aaron had stood and clapped each time. Now, only two awards remained: Record of the Year, and Album of the Year. Listening to JC sing the song that'd been nominated for Record of the Year, Justin and Aaron had both sat silent and transfixed. Justin had never heard the song before; but when he did, it had filled him with a giddy desire to call Mel and say that he was in love with her. He'd already spoken to her twice today, and had wished her sweet-dreams the last time; but hearing JC's song moved him to want to call her again; and it was only because he knew he'd be waking her, that he decided not to. Justin and Aaron listened as the nominees for Record of the Year were finally read off, and then they watched as the presenter opened the envelope and leaned forward toward the microphone and begin to speak. "The Record of the Year is 'Love, After All,'" by Joshua Chasez." "Your dad's sweeping, dude," Justin said, gently slapping the back of Aaron's knee. "Pretty cool, huh?" "I think this is really cool," Aaron said, looking at Justin and smiling. "Okay - there he is," Justin said, pointing to the television. "Listen." * * * * * JC wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve, and blinked several times as if the sun was shining in his eyes. He looked down from the podium and smiled at Lance, who he saw was standing and smiling and waving at him. JC waved back and cleared his throat and wiped his brow again on the back of his sleeve. "Wow - this is something else," JC said. "I mean, winning Song of the Year was pretty cool - especially for this song, because it means so much to me. But, uh... this award, for Best Record, it's for the singing of it too, and...well, when I wrote it, I realized that there are certain feelings so passionate, and so true, they can only be sung." "That was why," JC said, clearing his throat and then going on. "It's why I think Moby...oh, man - Moby, thank you so much for the gift of producing this song. But...um, anyway - when I heard the final mix of this song, it was kind of a shock, since he'd taken out just about everything except me singing." "Anyway...before they drag me off the stage, there are two people I need to thank especially. Aaron - you are just the best boy, the best son, anyone could ever hope for, and I am just so proud of you, and love you very, very much. And - oh god - Lance -my partner, my lover, my best friend. What can I say? Since meeting you, I've never sang a single song, a single note, that wasn't made possible by your love for me, and all I can say is, thank you, and that I love you, and always will." * * * * * It was nearly nine o'clock when Justin picked Aaron up off the couch, carried him upstairs, and put him in bed. Aaron had fallen asleep, not long after JC had won Record of the Year. He hardly stirred for the next hour, and didn't open his eyes until Justin had laid him in bed, covered him with a comforter, and was about to turn off the light. "Did my dad win anymore awards?" Aaron asked, groggily. "Don't you want it to be a surprise?" Justin said. "For when you watch the rest of the show later." "No," Aaron said. "Can I know now please?" "Sure," Justin said. "He won Album of the Year too. So he won six all together." "Is that a lot?" Aaron asked, yawning. "A whole lot." "That's good," Aaron said. "You better get some sleep now," Justin said, turning out the light "You're dad Lance will be by early tomorrow to take you to school." "Okay," Aaron said, pulling the blanket up over his shoulder. "Thank you for letting me stay here and watching the show with me." "You're welcome, A," Justin said. "Sweet dreams." "G'night, Uncle J." * * * * * The approach to the San Diego airport was low and directly over the city. Just before landing, you could look out the window and see the top floor of a parking garage just underneath the plane. It was scary if you'd never landed there before, but Lance did not even notice it anymore. Lance felt the slight impact of their landing, and looked down at JC, whose head was resting in Lance's lap, to see if it had caused him to wake up. He was still asleep, and still smiling, as if having a pleasant dream. Lance was tired too, and he looked forward to getting home and going to bed. He'd have only a couple of hours to sleep before he had to get up and take Aaron to school "Are we there?" JC said, his voice a hoarse murmur. "We just landed," Lance said, smoothing the hair from JC's forehead and kissing him there. "What time is it?" JC asked, not yet opening his eyes. "It's late," Lance said. "Nearly two o'clock." "It'll be good to get home," JC said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "And to see Aaron," Lance added. "Yeah," JC said. "You think Justin let him watch the show." "Probably," Lance said. "But I don't mind." "I wonder what he'll say," JC said. "If he watched it, I mean." "I'm not sure," Lance said. "But knowing Aaron, it'll be honest." "He's a good boy." "Yes he is." Part Two: Aaron lay on his back across the bed, his head hanging off the bottom edge of it as he watched James doing his homework. It was early Sunday afternoon, and Aaron had stopped by to see if James wanted to go see a movie or something. James head bobbed up and down as he concentrated on the algebra problem he was solving and listened through earphones to a CD that was playing on the small stereo that sat on a shelf above the desk. "What are you listening to," Aaron shouted. "What?" James said, lifting one earphone and looking over at Aaron. "I said," Aaron shouted, and then realized he didn't need to anymore. "I said, what are you listening to?" "You don't want to know?" James said, smiling. "Oh - I don't want to know, but that's why I asked you?" "Whatever," James said, letting go of the earphone and letting it slap back against his ear. Aaron lifted his legs high in the air and flipped backwards off the end of the bed, planting his feet on the floor, and then springing up - all in a single smooth motion. It was something that James had seen him do before, but he still laughed every time he did it. James tried to concentrate on his algebra homework as he watched Aaron out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what he was up to. Staring out the window, Aaron looked for a moment as if he was simply bored, but then he jumped across the room to James' desk and yanked the ear-phones out of the stereo, and the room suddenly filled with loud dance music. It's almost two o'clock it's time to make my move The after-hour spot is where I'm goin' to 'Cause I gotta have some more, looking for somebody to hit the dance floor And lucky for me I see a fine young lady's eyein' me The lights are low and her friends were all around I walked up to her slow and you know what happens now She turned around and she worked in the worst way What more do I have to say "What the hell?" Aaron said, looking down at James as he was bent over his desk and started laughing. "Is this...?" "It sure is," James said, leaning away from Aaron in case he decided to punch him, and laughing. "NSync. It's kinda cool, huh? Listen to this part. Justin and your dad Josh is singing here." Mirror, mirror, on the wall. who's the cutest one you saw? She's underneath the disco ball. the disco ball? The disco ball! Standin' next to strobe lights - dancin' hot, lookin' tight The freaks sure do come out at night. out at night, night, night What more (whoa) do I have to say - TWO STEP! "You're such a knob," Aaron said, punching James in the arm and then reaching up to turn the stereo off. "Hey - I was listening to that." "Not any more," Aaron said, grinning as he sat down on the edge of James' bed. "Whatever," James said. "So when did you get that," Aaron asked. "That CD." "Last month," James said. "I got that box-set thing. It's got all of their CD's in it, and this trippy book that has a bunch of pics and stuff in it. You wanna see?" "No thanks," Aaron said. "It sorta freaks me out to see pics of them from back then, you know?" "Yeah, that's cool," James said. "So you know what you're gonna play at your recital next month?" "I got the classical piece picked out," Aaron said. "But I still need to pick a non-classical piece - you know, to arrange." "That's the hardest part of the sophomore recital," James said, closing his algebra book. "When I did mine last year, I was totally whacked trying to come up with an idea." "Yours was the best one, though," Aaron said. "What was it, four Depeche Mode songs arranged for string quartet?" "Three songs," James said. "But yeah, it was Depeche Mode." Aaron nodded and then flopped backwards onto the bed. It was raining outside, and he could hear the sharp rattling sound of the raindrops hitting window. He had gone running early this morning, and had seen the darkening cloud gather on the horizon and begin moving inward across the ocean. Such storms were rare in San Diego, but Aaron liked the change in the weather. Closing his eyes, Aaron felt suddenly tired, and he knew that if he didn't get up he'd probably fall asleep. Rolling onto his side and standing up, he looked at James, who was standing now too, and looking through a drawer filled with dozens of CD's. "Hey, let's go do something," Aaron said, staring at the back of James' head. "Wait a second," James said, continuing to rummage through the drawer, and then turning around and handing Aaron the CD he'd finally found. "You should listen to this. It's really, really good, and it would be cool if did one of the songs on it." "Oh, yeah," Aaron said, turning it over to look at the song-list on the back of the CD. "I totally forgot about this. It's really good." "You can borrow it, if you want," James said. "But I want it back." "Nah - that's okay," Aaron said. "I'm sure we have it at the house somewhere." "Cool," James said, taking the CD back from Aaron. "You wanna hit it then." "Yeah - let's go get something to eat," Aaron said. "I think my dad's at the Red Fox. We can get him to buy us lunch." "Right on." * * * * * "Are you nervous?" Lance asked, as he reached over and patted Aaron's knee. "You mean for the recital?" Aaron said, fiddling with his tie, and trying to loosen it. "Kind of. It's my whole music grade for the semester." "You'll do great," JC said, leaning forward from the backseat. "I hope so," Aaron said, and continued to fiddle with his tie. Lance steered the car into the parking lot of the Francis Parker School, a private school in the Mission Hills area of San Diego. The lot was nearly full, even though the recital was not scheduled to start for an hour. Aaron shifted back and forth in the front seat and continued to play with the knot in his tie. It was just dusk, and lower edges of the sky were beginning to shift in hue from a paler blue, to a pink-tinged indigo. "Dad," Aaron said. "Um...could you drop me off here before you park the car. I need to warm up, and make sure everything's set up okay." "Oh - sure," Lance said, slowing the car and then pulling to a stop. "Thanks," Aaron said, climbing out of the car and then turning and sticking his head back inside. "I'll see you inside, okay?" "Sure thing," Lance said, watching as Aaron shut the door and then ran towards the high school's auditorium. Lance glanced back at JC and saw that he was staring out the window, watching as Aaron disappeared inside the auditorium. JC was smiling, but his eyes seemed sad to him, as if he had said good-bye to someone he wouldn't see for awhile. Looking at JC, Lance now felt this too, a feeling of loss that he could not explain. Was it that he had not realized before how old Aaron had become, how quickly grown up. He was filled with such fierce pride for him, and he regretted not a single decision he'd ever made in raising him. But he still wished that he could do it all over again, not to correct any mistake, or to do a better job this time. No - to have him be young again, and to hear once more the soft sounds of his bare feet slapping against the grass, and to hear him laughing as he ran, chasing the leaves that blew each winter across their backyard. Was that what JC was feeling right now? Lance thought that it probably was. * * * * * Aaron walked slowly onto the stage from behind the curtains on the left side of it. He looked handsome and strong in his navy suit, one that JC had taken him shopping for two weeks ago. Watching Aaron approach the piano that sat in the middle of the stage, JC felt his stomach tighten painfully, and his palms dampen. JC had performed on stage hundreds of times before and he had never once felt as nervous as he felt at this moment. It was like he could hardly breathe. "For my classical piece," Aaron said, leaning forward to speak into a microphone that sat before him on the piano. "I've picked Liszt's Années de Pèlerinage, which means 'Years of Pilgrimage' in French. Liszt wrote it after a long stay in Italy, and...um, well it reminds me of when my Dad Lance and I lived in Florence for six weeks while he was making a movie called Foucault's Pendulum. Anyway, here it is." * * * * * As Aaron played the last notes of the Liszt piece, his shoulders slumped forward, as if in exhaustion, like those of a long-distance runner just crossing a finish line. He had been playing for almost twenty minutes, and throughout it, JC had held his right hand cupped over his mouth, like a person does when watching a high-wire act. Both Lance and JC leaped to their feet as the piece came to an end and everyone started to applaud. It had been a spectacularly beautiful performance, and JC was stunned by it, and Lance too. The sound of loud applause hung in the air like fog, and the walls seemed to shake from the force of it. Aaron stood before his piano and bowed his head to acknowledge the applause, too modest to make any grander a gesture. "Thank you," Aaron said, bowing his head once more, and then sitting back down behind the piano. "I hope this means I'm getting an A this semester." Everyone in the audience laughed. JC and Lance sat back down in their seats. JC grabbed Lance's hand and squeezed it several times. The excitement was almost unbearable, and it nearly made him laugh. He felt almost like a little kid, as if hearing his son play the piano so beautifully had transformed him somehow, and made him feel more alive than before. It felt almost as if he was glowing, like when you've stayed in the sun too long and your skin radiates its heat for hours afterwards, even if you've gone indoors. "I had a hard time deciding on a non-classical song to arrange for the second half of my recital," Aaron said, leaning once more toward the microphone, his cheeks still flushed from his playing the previous piece. "But a friend of mine reminded me of a song that I first heard when I was about seven. My Dad Josh won a Grammy Award for it, and I remember him telling me afterwards how it was a love song and, well...um, anyway, I wanted to play it tonight because it's my Dads' anniversary, and so this if for them." Aaron stared nervously at keys on the piano as he waited for the school's choral group to file onto the stage. His arrangement was for piano, chorus, and cello. James was going to play the cello, and Aaron watched as he positioned himself opposite the piano at stage left. When everyone was in place, and the auditorium was quiet, Aaron leaned once more toward the microphone, and said, "It's called, 'Love, after all'." Only the piano played at first, and JC did not recognize at first what it was that Aaron was playing. It was a simple, slow succession of notes. Then he realized that he was playing scales - C major, B flat, G, A sharp, and C minor - each one progressively longer and more difficult. The series of scales he'd just played was followed by arpeggios, each one more complex than the one before. It was as if Aaron was telling the story, byplaying scales, and then arpeggios, of someone who was learning to play the piano. JC closed his eyes and his mouth fell open as it suddenly occurred to him that this was exactly what Aaron was doing. You are so special, JC thought. The sound of the cello startled JC and he opened his eyes and looked quickly back to the stage. Aaron was starting to play the melody now, a melody that JC had written and well-remembered. Then the choral group began to sing. That day - do you remember? You were quiet on the couch, reading a magazine, I was standing in the doorway, wondering if you'd seen The way I always looked at you, What were you, just eighteen? Then you looked up, eyes wide open, As if in fright, no not fright, surprise - And suddenly it was like the sun was in my eyes, Do you know what I thought? I thought this must be love, after all. After all the years, After all the fears, Of waiting for just one, To hold me, to need me, To be with me, It had begun. Love, after all. That day - do you remember? How I walked across the room, making distance disappear, How you smiled and stood to meet me, with no apparent fear Of my approach, or outstretched hand. What was I then, not quite a man? But I was holding you, and kissing you, And my breath was on your face, With a sweet insisting proof, a kiss - A kiss that explained the world to me. Do you know what I thought? I thought this must be love, after all. After all the years, After all the fears, Of waiting for just one, To hold me, to need me, To be with me, It had begun. Love, after all. Yesterday - do you remember? We were quiet on the couch, reading to our son, The book about the astronaut traveling to the moon, He was sitting between us, holding to my hand, His head was resting on your shoulder, Looking up as you read his favorite part, The three pages he knew by heart, That was when his eyes lit up, as if filled with sun, Do you know what I thought? I thought this must be love, after all. After all the years, After all the fears, It's still love, after all. It's still love, after all. You and me, we are the two of us, And with him, we are the three of us, It's still love, after all It'll always be, Love, after all, Love, after all. The song came to its finish and Aaron once more played the practice scale in C major, playing it slowly, as if for the first time, and as he did so, he spoke once more into the microphone, and said: "Dad - thank you for not letting me quit the piano."