Date: Tue, 26 Dec 2000 13:08:35 -0500
From: Charlie <charlieje@nc.rr.com>
Subject: Got another one for you

The following story is total fiction. Any relationship to persons living or
dead is purely accidental.

This story depicts sexual acts between people of the same sex (male), some
of whom are under age. If you find this concept distasteful, or if it is
illegal where you live, or if you are underage, please stop reading now.

                   XXVI The Concert Tour

Sunday morning, the Conners' last Sunday in Italy, was one of those days
that it seems as if Nature has pulled out all the stops to show off its best. At
daybreak it was crisp and cool; by 7 AM when the choir boys were
awakened, the sun was shining brilliantly, the temperature had warmed to a
comfortable 70 degrees. The birds were singing, the winter flowers blooming,
the sky totally cloudless.

The boys sang Mass as they always did at a large Catholic cathedral. This
was not one of Charlie's favorite activities, but it did have its merits. He
loved the large old cathedral, the music he and the other boys performed, the
grand old organ; but Charlie was a Baptist, and the Catholic worship service
was just too formal to his liking, to say nothing of the fact that it was mostly
in Latin, so for a great deal of the time he had no idea what was going on.
This morning they attended the 9 AM Mass so they'd have a few hours to
prepare for their concert in the same cathedral at 2 PM.

After Mass they all trouped back to the dorm where they showered again,
then had lunch and just relaxed in the dorm until 1 PM. They got dressed,
then endured Guido's inspection before getting ready to do the concert. He
checked every boy thoroughly, making sure ears were clean, teeth were
brushed, hair painfully and carefully combed. When it came Charlie's turn for
inspection, he half expected a sign; some comment to let him know some
news about Guido's conversation with Dennis; but there was nothing. Could
Dennis have failed to call him? Absurd! Dennis had made a promise and
Charlie knew he would never break a promise. Immediately after the concert
the entire choir was to board a bus bound for Naples. It would not be until
some time Monday afternoon that he'd see his parents again, if then! So he
simply had to wait and endure.

At precisely two in the afternoon, the old organ in the cathedral roared to life,
with none other than Guido himself at the console, to play the processional
for the choir. They began to sing as they processed down the center aisle, two
by two. When they reached the front they split and formed themselves on the
platform. It had to be one of the most awe inspiring, spine tingling
performances Charlie had ever experienced! The organ literally thundered, its
deep bass pipes providing its firm unmovable foundation for the high, clear,
crisp voices of the choir. For the moment Charlie forgot everything except
what he was singing; at that moment he wasn't at all sure he'd made the right
decision by not becoming a permanent part of this choir.

After the processional the choir did a relatively easy number a capella to give
Guido time to come down from the organ. They were led by one of the senior
students, who had demonstrated in the rehearsals the same passion, the same
talent, as Guido his teacher. Charlie admired him greatly, and as they sang he
pictured himself in this position some day: as leader of a great choir. Again he
wondered, should he not reconsider his decision to live his life on a farm in
North Carolina?

For the next two hours the entire choir stood at the front of the church,
sweating profusely, as Guido put them through their paces. Charlie had
thought that stage lights were hot, but they were freezing compared to this. In
the audience, Karen reacted as any mother would: she almost had to be
restrained from running up and rescuing her son from this torture. But for all:
performers and listeners alike, the ordeal was worth it. The choir was
absolutely flawless! As each selection completed they received a smile from
their leader, which was enough to inspire them to even greater
accomplishments on the next. Now Charlie knew, and so did the rest of his
family, that Guido was indeed giving these boys something to live for,
something to be proud of, at least for the moment.

Andy sat and watched the choir as they performed in the giant cathedral.
How, he thought, could Charlie resist temptations like this? He saw the look
on his brother's face: a look of complete happiness as the choir seemingly
stopped time itself with its clarity, its brilliance, its unity. Charlie was in his
element and Andy knew it. Was this where Charlie belonged? Were his
family being selfish to take him away?

Christopher stepped forward to do his solo. Even though he was only eight
years old, Andy thought he looked tiny. When he started to sing his voice
filled the entire cathedral. Up, up it went, building a crescendo against the
backdrop of the rest of the choir until Andy was sure it would start to shatter
the stained glass windows. He had never heard anything so high, so clear, so
powerful! And from such a tiny form, without aid of any amplification! Even
Charlie had never sung like this!

At the end of the performance, Charlie was so totally exhausted he could
hardly move. Eighteen hours of mowing, raking, baling hay in ninety degree
heat was child's play compared to this! But he was also happy. He knew he
and his mates had done well; that little smile from Guido after each selection
had confirmed it! And as they lay about the floor in the room they'd been
assigned, Guido came to each one in turn and complimented him, praising
some musical phrase they'd excelled in, commenting on this or that incident
where a particular boy had outdone himself. Guido had an incredible memory,
an unbelievable perception of each boy's strengths and limitations, and could
evidently hear each of them individually. And then they were whisked out the
rear of the cathedral and on to a waiting bus, bound for Naples.

"Mom, Dad..." Andy said after the last encore, "That was... was..."
"Yes, Andy," Karen agreed as she wiped a tear from her eye, "It was, wasn't
it? I thank God that Charlie had this experience!"
"And I thank God we witnessed it." Dennis added.

                     *       *       *

It was dark when they arrived in Naples, so the exhausted choir were ordered
straight to bed. They had been billeted in a church hall, with army style camp
cots set up in four rows on the floor. The boys were encouraged to choose
their neighbors, so Charlie, Paul and Christopher were together. They were
far too tired to think of anything but sleep, but once settled on their cots none
of the trio was the least bit sleepy. "Christopher, Charlie," Paul said with
admiration, "You two were so great today!"
"You weren't so bad yourself." Charlie said, trying to cheer him up as he was
obviously rather depressed, "You really do have a great voice, Paul, and once
you learn to control it..."
"Forget it." Paul answered, "It's hopeless."

Naples! Charlie was in Naples, the city where Tonio, the fictitious character
in the book, "Cry To Heaven," had got his training. Guido had given the choir
the day to wander around on condition that they be back in time to shower
and dress for warm-up at 6 PM. Charlie could see the volcano as soon as he
stepped out on the street. In his mind he pictured young Tonio making his
way up the side of the mountain. It was truly as if he had taken a step back in
time! At any moment he expected to see a group of castrati in their robes
walking to or from a local performance. He knew he was being silly, but it
did something for his comfort level just being here, knowing all that had
happened two centuries ago.

It was still only 7:30 AM, the family weren't due to arrive for another hour;
so Charlie, Paul and Christopher just wandered the streets close to their
temporary home. Charlie's companions had been here before, so he let them
guide him. He walked a few steps behind them, deep in thought as the two
younger boys chattered away about this or that shop, where to get a good
lunch, things they'd seen before and things they hadn't. Charlie looked at the
boys carefully. At 8 and 11, there was still no outward sign that Paul had
been neutered; in fact the opposite was true. He was all of four feet 6 inches
tall or thereabouts; his shoulders were broad and sturdy, his longish black hair
thick and luxurious. He was, Charlie thought, the picture of beauty! And
soon, very soon, his arms and legs would start to grow out of proportion to
the rest of him, and his identity as a normal boy would be gone forever!

Christopher, on the other hand, was still a very little boy. Charlie noticed his
legs: still very immature, almost baby-ish, as they descended from the
bottoms of his red soccer shorts. Christopher always wore shorts, and they
were almost always very loose soccer style. They appeared to dwarf him even
more! His torso was rather on the shapeless side, another indication of his
tender age. His hair, a very light blonde, rippled and danced when he ran, but
otherwise lay on his head, not flat, but perfectly well behaved. Charlie found
that hair terribly erotic, which made him wonder if his own rippled that way
when he ran. He couldn't see Christopher's deep green eyes as they walked
along the street, but no matter, they had burned an image in Charlie's memory
that would last forever, and he could recall it any time he pleased. In spite of
himself Charlie began thinking how utterly cool it would be having these two
as his brothers.

When Dennis' rented Mercedes finally arrived at the church hall, Charlie had
begun to wonder if they'd got lost. As soon as the car had stopped they all
piled in and headed for the outskirts. There was a lookout near Vesuvius,
Dennis explained, where they could get closer to the volcano. From there
he'd planned several other tourist attractions so they all could see more of the
city. "That's fine, Dad," Charlie said impatiently, "But what about Paul and
Christopher?"
"Of course they can come too." Dennis answered without expression.
"Dad, you know what I mean! What'd you find out?"
"I found out what you already knew, Charlie! I found out that Guido is
actively looking for homes for both boys and has been for some time. It
seems that you've done it to me again."
"Not really, Dad," Charlie grinned, "You always taught me to be prepared."

"It's not all settled yet," Dennis said, knowing full well that Charlie would
not rest until he knew all there was to know, "But Guido's attorneys here in
Italy are working with Evan Turnbull, and things look good. I've made
arrangements for Andy to go with you boys on the tour, and your mom and I
have to go to Rome in the morning to sign some papers and get things set up.
We don't have a lot of time, but we'll be getting two more seats on the plane,
that is if you boys want that."
"YESSSSS!" Four boys chorused. "You won't be sorry, Dad." Charlie
promised, "All four of us will make sure you're never sorry!"

"Uhhh, Dad," Charlie said after the shouting had calmed down, "You and
Mom aren't gonna miss the performance tonight are ya?"
"No, son," Dennis answered, "We'll be there. But what's so important about
tonight?"
"Nothin' really. It's just that I'm hoping to have a little surprise for y'all, if I
can get it set up."
"What kinda surprise?" they all wanted to know.
"If I told ya it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? An' besides, I'm not sure yet
if I can get it all arranged." The entire family, including the two newest
members, tried to get more information out of Charlie, but he simply wasn't
talking.

Even Andy hadn't known the part about finishing the tour with his brothers.
That may very well be the best news of all! Guido had assured Dennis that he
wouldn't be excess baggage, that he could use Andy's help in taking care of
the younger boys: getting them bathed and dressed, seeing to it that they
didn't get lost, helping to attend to any emergencies that might occur. Andy
accepted his assignment with a vengeance, making so many friends he'd
begun to wonder if perhaps he should consider making the job permanent. As
he was helping a cute seven year old into his robe, ne noticed out of the
corner of his eye Charlie and Christopher slip off together.

"You really think it'd be all right with Signore Guido?" Charlie asked.
"I think he'd love it, Charlie." Christopher answered, "And I KNOW I
would. I'll ask him during the inspection, ok?"
"Sounds like a plan, lil brother." Charlie said.
"Lil Brother?" Christopher questioned.
"Well, maybe it's rushing things a little. But that's what you're gonna be."
"Charlie, that's so kewl!" Christopher exclaimed as he hugged Charlie, who
responded by wrapping his arms around his new brother's little body and
marveling at the firmness, the strength of this gorgeous creature. How could
he have not noticed before? But then he had been pretty busy with Paul,
hadn't he? "We better get back," he whispered, "You know Signore Guido
doesn't like to be kept waiting.

The concert had begun as the first one had: Guido at the console of the large
pipe organ, absolutely thrilling everyone with his playing, enhancing the
music that was coming from his choir as the boys processed down the aisle to
the nave where they took their positions. This cathedral had been standing for
over three hundred years, which of course meant that there had been
hundreds, perhaps even thousands of castrati standing precisely where
Charlie now stood. That thought caused a thrill to go through his body,
followed by a shudder as he looked at Christopher's back, standing in front of
him. Had this been 200 years ago, Christopher would probably already be a
eunuch, for no other reason than that he was a good singer.

The boys went through their various musical selections until it came time for
Christopher's solo. Andy had joined his parents in the audience, and all
waited expectantly for the young boy to step forward. But he didn't! Instead,
he moved slightly to one side to allow Charlie to pass him and stand a little
ahead of the front row. "Mom!" Andy whispered, "Charlie's gonna do that
solo! Do you think he can?"
"He seems to think he can." she answered. And do it he did. His voice a little
more mature than Christopher's but no less controlled, he followed the up's
and downs of the score, each phrase climbing a little higher than the last. His
chest swelled visibly as he threw his head back and filled the cathedral with
his voice, which had never been more melodious, never clearer, never more in
tune with his inner being. In Charlie's mind, this was his triumph, the climax
of all that had happened in the first thirteen years of his life! Again he
communicated with Andy as he sang. All at once Andy knew what his brother
was doing. Suddenly Andy knew that this would be Charlie's final
performance as a soprano. Why he did not know; but Andy knew without
doubt that after this performance, no one would ever again hear Charlie's
soprano voice in concert.

"Thanks, Christopher," Charlie said when the concert was over, "My little
brother."
"That was so awesome!" Christopher said with admiration.
"You're picking up my bad habits." Charlie chuckled, "Talking about things
being awesome."
"Well, it was. An' you got a couple other bad habits I wouldn't mind picking
up."
"Yeah?" Charlie grinned, "Like what? I didn't know I had any faults."
"I didn't say it was a fault," he answered, "Only that it's a bad habit. You got
this bad habit of... well, let's just say you and Paul got yourselves a bit of a
reputation."
"Christopher," Charlie said as panic set in, "Don't believe everything you
hear. And besides, you're only eight years old!"
"I know that, but I'm not always gonna be eight. I can wait; question is can
you?"

"Charlie," a voice behind him said as he emerged from the washroom, "I
thought you did wonderfully on that solo tonight." Charlie turned to look into
the face of an Asian Indian boy, about fifteen years old, whom everyone
called Yashi. That wasn't his name, but no one could get their tongue around
his real name, so he had invented the name they all used.
"Thanks, Yashi. It was just something I wanted to do once in my life."
"You really shouldn't stop at just doing it once." Yashi said, "If I could sing
like that I would never stop. I think it's terrible that you're going back to
America. They will not appreciate your voice over there and it will be
wasted."
"Not a problem," Charlie answered, "I got other things to do with my life."
"That's what I mean, Charlie. You've made a decision you will regret. You
don't have all the facts. Would you kindly come with me? I want to show you
something that I think will change your mind."
"But... it's only a few minutes till lights out."
"I promise this won't take long. You owe it to yourself to learn all the facts,
don't you?"

Charlie followed Yashi through a door and down a dark hallway. In the
subdued light he noticed how well developed the boy was. Like all the other
boys here, Yashi had a story. His was that he had been outwardly gay, which
in India is a real no-no. So when he was thirteen or so he'd been kidnapped
and castrated, destined for a prostitution ring until Guido intervened. His
voice had already started to change, but he was still a young castrato in need
of a home, so Guido had taken him in. He and three other boys added depth
to the choir with their deeper voices.

Yashi turned into a room at the far end of the hall and Charlie followed. It
was a stupid thing to do and Charlie knew it, but his guard was completely
down. As soon as he stepped through the door he was grabbed from behind
by powerful arms, which wrapped around him and restrained his own arms.
There was no light in the room, so when Yashi closed the door it was pitch
dark. "I'll be turning on the light in a few minutes," Yashi said, "So I can get
a look at what you always hide in those white boxers of yours. But first we
have to help you to enjoy yourself and relax a little."

Charlie felt two hands, one on each side, slip under the waistband of his
boxers, the only clothing he was wearing, and start to pull them down. He
struggled but he was being held too tightly. He brought his knee up, catching
Yashi in the chest and knocking him backwards. That action earned him a
punch in the kidney. "Do that again," a voice from behind said, "And I'll
break a rib or two." Charlie recognized the voice of Dimitri, a Russian
eunuch about 17 years old. Like Yashi, he had been castrated well after
puberty. Charlie didn't know the circumstances, but he knew the guy was big
and strong.

When he felt his boxers descend to the floor, Charlie stepped out of them,
reasoning that if he got the chance to fight he didn't want to be impeded by
anything around his ankles. "I knew you'd cooperate sooner or later," Yashi
said as he began fondling Charlie, "That little brown fucker has been
monopolizing you long enough! Now you're gonna get some REAL action!"
"Please don't." Charlie pleaded. He was biding his time, looking for an
opening, but there seemed to be none forthcoming. He shuddered as he felt a
finger poking around his anus; he gasped as it entered him forcefully. "My,
my!" Yashi exclaimed, "That's a tight little one! This is gonna be great! I was
gonna play around first but I can't wait. Let's get him into position Dimitri."

Charlie struggled more as the two teens maneuvered him into a kneeling
position, his head between Dimitri's knees, hands held behind his back. He
straightened his knees and flopped flat on the floor, got another punch in the
kidneys. He wiggled his butt when he felt something probing there; another
punch. This was it, he thought; not exactly the way he'd pictured losing his
virginity. But he vowed to keep struggling as long as he could. If they killed
him then so be it; but he was not going to submit without making his
objections clear.

"Leave him alone, Yashi!" came Paul's voice in Italian from the doorway.
"Go away, little boy!" Yashi replied, "Before we decide to have you join the
party." Charlie wasn't picking up every word spoken, but he understood the
gist of what was being said. "Andy!" he called from between Dimitri's legs,
"Go get Andy!"
"No can do, Charlie. I couldn't find him."

The lights in the room came on. Paul had just come into the room from the
light, and now he took full advantage of everyone else's momentary blindness
and sprang. Charlie felt Dimitri's body shudder as Paul's hands swung a wide
arc into his sides, landing two vicious chops to both kidneys. The knees
opened just enough for Charlie to yank his head out from between them, and
he was on his feet. He swung around and clapped his hands together, except
that Yashi's ears were between them. Yashi stumbled and fell. He had been
trying to stand from his kneeling position when Charlie hit him, and the blow
had knocked him off balance. Charlie looked around just in time to see Paul
land a kick to Dimitri's mid section, then a sharp jab to his throat, and he
went down. "C'mon!" he said, "Grab your boxers and let's get outa here!"
Charlie obeyed. He had wanted to stay and really give it to these guys, but he
realized that once the element of surprise was gone they might not fare so
well. "You were awesome!" he said to Paul as he put on his boxers in the
hall, "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"
"When ya live in a country that's having one revolution after another," Paul
answered, "You learn to defend yourself, or you die!"

The bus trip to Rome was great for forty energetic boys, but hell for the
driver. There were the typical yells and screams, noisy games, throwing a ball
back and forth, even the odd minor altercation. Guido made good use of
Andy in trying to keep order and holding the noise level to a dull roar so the
bus driver wouldn't go totally insane. They didn't arrive until 5:30 PM; with
the concert scheduled for 8, there was no time for anything but a very light
lunch, then it was time to shower and dress for the concert. Guido always
insisted on a half hour warm-up before every concert, which of course
tightened the schedule even more.

Andy and Charlie had hoped to see their parents in Rome, but that just didn't
happen. The concert was in one of the largest cathedrals the two wide-eyed
boys had ever seen, then they were whisked off to bed. The cots were a little
bigger here, so Paul curled up with Charlie and Christopher with Andy.
Charlie and Paul were on the receiving end of a few cat calls and good
natured ribbing, all suggesting that they might want to give it a rest at least for
the duration of the tour. They just smiled and embraced, neither having any
intention of doing anything but sleeping. Tomorrow they would go to
Florence, then Bologna, then Milan. By the time they got back to the school
Saturday afternoon, everyone was exhausted. But they had had a very
successful tour, raising more than enough money to sustain the school for
another year. Guido was so pleased that he threw a party in the school gym
Saturday night. Charlie would have preferred to spend the evening with his
family, but Guido had said that it would be a combination celebration and
good-bye party for their "American friends."

"I have a special surprise for the best choir in Italy." Guido announced in
Italian. Charlie was starting to realize just how much of the day to day
conversations were in Italian, and how much of it he was understanding. But
Guido went on. "As you all know, Charlie will be leaving for home early in
the morning. We will all miss you, Charlie." General applause, a few
comments. Charlie shot a glance toward Yashi and Dimitri. They had not
reacted. Paul had warned him that they would be looking for revenge, but
time was running short for them. But still Guido was not done speaking.

"What you did not know," he went on, "Was that Charlie will not be leaving
alone. He and his family will be taking Paul and Christopher with them."
Now the boys really applauded and whistled, shouted and cheered. Andy
almost fainted! Not knowing what else to do, he threw his arms around
Charlie, then Christopher, then Paul. "He did it!" he shouted, "Our dad did
it!"
"Did you have any doubt?" Charlie grinned back.

Dennis and Karen appeared. Guido whispered to them a few moments, then
raised his hand for quiet. "The Conner family," he began, "Charlie's parents
and brother, have consented to give us a sample of the southern American
gospel singing that Charlie loves so well. It is very different from the music
that we do, and I think you will enjoy it. This is the type of music that Charlie
sings back home. This is what he has been trying to teach you for the past
month."

"Andy!" Charlie said, "Did you know about this?"
"Not exactly. We talked about it, but I didn't know it had been finalized."
"But we haven't practiced! We have no instruments but a piano, and we have
no bass!"
"What do you suppose I sing, soprano?" Dennis said.
"You, Dad? YOU?"
"Put your mind at ease, little man, your daddy can sing."

And so they sang. And sang. And sang some more. The choir members all
loved it and kept demanding more and more. On the upbeat numbers they all
clapped in time with the music. Charlie's doubts about his father's singing
were completely unfounded. He had obviously been studying, listening,
watching the old gospel group very carefully and knew the bass parts
thoroughly. Charlie loved singing with his dad. Yes, he'd heard him sing in
church, but for reasons he couldn't understand, he'd never thought of his dad
as a performer.

By the time they were finished it was very late, so it was decided that the four
boys would go back to the hotel with their parents tonight, rather than having
to get gathered up in the morning. They had to be on the road to Rome no
later than 6 AM to catch their flight. It took only a few minutes to pack all
Paul's and Christopher's belongings, they didn't have that much; about six
changes of clothes and underwear, a few electronic games and other small
toys, their school books. Charlie and Andy both thought of their room back
home, full to overflowing with all their things, some of which they hardly ever
touched. "And I thought we were poor!" Charlie said to Andy.
"Believe me, lil bro," Andy answered, "You don't even know the meaning of
the word!"

Guido came to the hotel as they were getting ready to leave. He thanked them
for coming; he thanked Andy for his help on the tour; he thanked them for
giving two boys that he obviously loved a home; he thanked Charlie for the
month he'd spent with the choir. "I enjoyed it, Signore Guido." Charlie said
in Italian, "Thank you for having me."
"Remember," Guido scolded, "It is impolite to speak a language that all
present do not understand." Of course he said it in Italian, while Paul
translated everything.

"We would love to have you back in the fall," Guido said, "To participate in
our Christmas program. Should we begin making plans now?"
"I... I'd love to come," Charlie said, "But I'm afraid that won't be possible. I
suspect the harvest will run well into November this year if we get planted all
we're planning, and I simply won't have time to take a month or more off."
"Charlie," Karen said, "Guido has been awfully good to you. I think you owe
him the truth, don't you?"

Charlie agreed, so he told him everything. All that he'd told his parents, why
he didn't feel a part of the group despite their efforts to make him welcome.
He didn't share the attempted rape; that was a secret between him and Paul.
Some of the other boys probably suspected, but no one knew. There was
simply no point in distressing Guido, no harm had been done, so they kept
their silence. Guido took Charlie's talk well and promised to try to deal with
what Charlie saw as a problem, but he accepted the fact that Charlie would
probably never again live with the choir as a full member. He did however
insist that he be allowed to see all four boys when he was in America, to
which they all agreed readily.

The flight across the Atlantic was nothing short of, well, as Charlie would
say, AWESOME! Again they were in first class, in another 747, complete
with spiral staircase up to the upper deck. Karen spent a lot of time with her
new sons, getting to know them; going over their school work and trying to
place their grade levels. As soon as they got home she would have to get
them started in the home school program, and she had to know what materials
to order. She found that their years in Guido's school had done them very
well. She was delighted to learn that they both appeared to be quite bright,
and very motivated.

Paul got on Charlie's case, wondering if they could spend some time giving
him singing lessons. It was a long flight, and Paul was anxious to get started
on the venture that Charlie had assured him would be successful. The flight
attendant overheard them as she went about the cabin serving drinks and
snacks. "Did you know there's a piano upstairs?" she offered.
"A piano?" Charlie questioned, "A real piano?"
"Well," she said, "Not exactly. It's an electronic piano, but I've been told by
those who play it that it's a good one."
"Totally awesome!" Charlie exclaimed, "It'll do for what we want. May we
play it?"

All four boys scrambled up the stairs. There was no one there except one
middle aged man drinking himself to oblivion and the steward who was
serving him. Charlie sat down at the keyboard and was pleasantly surprised at
its capabilities. One gadget he noticed almost immediately was a pitch
bender. He'd never used one, though the concept was not new to him. As he
played with it, Andy got an idea.

"Charlie," Andy said excitedly. "What if we, like, use that thing to help Paul?
I mean, you strike a note, then you "bend" it off pitch, then slowly slide it
back to pitch. Then you get Paul to do the same thing with his voice. Maybe
it'll help his brain to hear the difference."
"Andy," Karen said as she came up from the lower deck, "You might just
have something there!"

Charlie struck a chord, then sang the same note. While holding the note
constant with his voice, he lowered the pitch on the keyboard. Paul listened
intently. Charlie brought the pitch bender back to pitch, then slid it slowly
higher, then back again, then lower, then back. "Now Paul," Karen instructed,
"Listen carefully while Charlie varies the pitch. Tell us when it is sounding
the same note as he is singing."

Paul listened. He threw up his hand and nodded. It had been a guess; a wrong
one! Karen told him again to listen; REALLY listen. They did it again, and
again. Charlie played a chord and held it, while singing the root tone of the
chord. He varied the pitch of his voice so he was in total dischord. Paul heard
it. "That sounds terrible!" he exclaimed.
"Now you're getting it!" Karen said excitedly, "You're right, it sounds
terrible. Slide back to pitch, Charlie."
Charlie did. He slid up, still holding the same chord on the keyboard. Two
hours later they were still at it, trying different variations of bending first the
piano, then their voices. Suddenly Paul screwed up his face in disgust. Charlie
slid back down until he was in perfect harmony. "I can hear it!" Paul
exclaimed. Tears flooded from his eyes. "I can hear it! It sounds so good! It's
right! It really rings when it's right, just like Signore Guido always said!"

Karen reached to give Paul a hug, but she had to get in line because Andy got
there first. "It's a start, Paul." Karen said, "Your brain has lived for almost
twelve years without knowing or caring anything about music, and it's gonna
take some time for it to adjust. But you've just proved that you can do it."
"I can't believe how easy it was!" Paul said as his tears flowed freely.
"It was only easy" Charlie said, "Cause my bro... er, OUR brother was here
and had that idea. Paul, as time goes by you're gonna learn that Andy is
totally, absolutely, completely AWESOME!"
Paul would have answered, but he couldn't! He totally broke down as he
thought of four years trying to sing, and now he knew he could! He could
sing! He had learned to sing five miles above the Atlantic ocean!

When they all went downstairs for a rest, Karen suddenly remembered the
tour. "Charlie," she said, "What was that solo all about in Naples? You did a
beautiful job on it, but that was Christopher's solo. Why did you do it?"
"Because I wanted you to hear it one more time." Charlie said, "I wanted you
to remember it. I wanted you to know how much I appreciate all the work
you've done with me."
"One more time?"
"Mom, as soon as we get home you're gonna take Paul and Christopher to
Doctor Lear for a checkup, right?"
"I guess you know me pretty well, Charlie. Yes, of course I am."
"I'm goin' with y'all. I'm gonna ask Dr. Lear to start me on hormones. It's
gonna make my voice change and I know it, but it's something I gotta do.
And besides, I've figured out that it's gonna change anyway. It won't be a
boy's voice, it'll be a woman's, and I don't want a woman's voice!"

Karen eyed her son suspiciously. "Well," she said, "There are a lot of people
who can think of a lot of things to say about you, but no one can ever say
you're not full of surprises. May I ask why?"
"Yeah," Andy said as he tried to recover from the shock, "Why?"
"I dunno exactly, but it's something I gotta do. Maybe I just realized that I
can't stay a little boy forever, so I might as well face growing up and get on
with it."
"It has to do with that choir, doesn't it?" Andy suggested.
"I guess in a way it does. I don't hate those guys or anything like that, but I
don't want to be like them. I don't want my life to revolve around the parts I
don't even have any more. I want to be normal, and there's no way a man
with a soprano voice can be normal. I'm sorry, Andy. I know you said you
like me the way I am, but I gotta do this. You are gonna let me, aren't you
Mom?"
"Charlie," Karen laughed, "I think Andy would still love you if you were
covered with a thick mat of hair and had foot long fangs! If you haven't
scared him off so far I doubt that anything's gonna drive him off. Of course
I'll let you take them, if that's what you want."

                     *       *      *

I sincerely hope you enjoy my writing efforts. If you do, or for that matter if
you don't, I would appreciate if you would write to me. My email address is
charlieje@mindspring.com.