chapter 4

At the end of the day, I walked home with the Washington siblings. They told me all about their first day. I didn’t think it was as much fun for Tony as his old school in New York, but I hoped he wouldn’t hate it completely. Dante said he spent the day after his meeting observing Mr. Ludwig, the band teacher. We passed their house first, so we parted there, and I walked on home.

I began my afternoon ritual of practicing my instrument. I sat in the sunroom, in my own world like always when I played music. I always felt like I looked crazy or something the way I got into it. I finished the song I was practicing and started it up again.

Halfway through, I heard a soft knocking at the outside door of the sunroom. Dante was smiling at me and holding a violin. He was still wearing his professional clothing under his open winter peacoat, a blue button-up and navy slacks. The pants gripped his thighs in a way that let me know they weren’t exactly new, but I liked that. I didn’t know why, but a guy with a bit of size (and a lot of size, if I were to be honest) had always turned my party. I carefully placed my cello back in its case and went to open the door.

“You play violin?” I asked, ushering him inside.

“Yeah, and guitar and trumpet and trombone and piano. A little bit of flute, a little bit of clarinet,” he paused. “Oh, and drums. That’s it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but I’m best at violin and piano. You’ve got to learn to play a little bit of everything if you’re a music education major. If you don’t know an instrument, it’s hard to teach it.”

“That’s really cool,” I said, impressed and very attracted to how worldly he seemed. I knew nobody but Mr. Ludwig who could play that many instruments.

“You’ll note cello is not in my repertoire,” he said. “How long have you been playing? You sounded amazing.”

“About thirteen years. I have eight years of violin and almost four years of clarinet.”

“Why are you not one of my new students?” he asked. I explained the whole setup of the arts program at school and how I’d already taken both band courses. I offered him a seat next to me in the sunroom. He came and sat next to me on a small bench. It was a little close. He was really wide, just a really masculine figure. I could feel his thigh touching mine. I noticed his belly resting in his lap. It strained against the buttons of his shirt, looking very taught and smooth. What I wouldn’t give to unbutton his shirt for him.

“Can I hear you play something?” I asked, trying my best not to get fully hard. He nodded, placing the violin under his chin. I watched intensely as he lifted his bow. His eyes were closed, and I could tell, like me, he was about to be in another place, feeling the music. His lashes were almost touching his cheeks and his lips parted slightly as he played a piece I’d heard before. I knew it on my cello.

When he finished, I clapped for him, and he smiled.

“Thanks Harvey.”

“I know that song,” I said. “It’s Stravinsky, right?”

“Yeah, the Pulcinella Suite.” He turned slightly to get a better look at me. “You want to play it together? Do you still remember it?” I nodded, getting up to get my cello from its case. I situated myself next to him and spent an incredible hour playing music with him. It was absolutely amazing. I had never gotten the opportunity to play my cello with someone else my own age. My private teacher was an elderly white woman and Mr. Ludwig only cared about helping me improve at clarinet.

Our instruments were packed away, and we sat and talked. He told me about how he heard me playing from his bedroom and rushed over to see if it was me, violin in tow. The conversation led to his mom.

“Yeah, it was hard when she died. It was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry. It was awful. I quit the basketball team, which was the only non-music related activity on my extra-curricular activities list. I couldn’t handle it and my rehearsals and processing my sad feelings.”

“What about your brother?” I asked.

“Tony just got busy. He did every activity he could,” he started, pausing for a moment. “Well, he did quit playing the trumpet. Our mom’s the one who convinced him to play it. She played violin too. She was my teacher.”

“My dad played the cello,” I said absent-mindedly. He looked over at me and smiled softly. Such a beautiful smile. “So, you quit playing basketball? I’ve never played any sports competitively.”

“Yeah, and I started eating.” He laughed. “Can’t you tell? Well, I guess you don’t know what I used to look like. I’ve put on about fifteen pounds a year since my senior year of high school, so I’m up sixty pounds. My dad put on some weight too. Tone’s the only one who hasn’t gotten fat.”

“I don’t think you look bad though,” I said. “I mean, I think you carry the weight well and you’re so tall. It’s not like you’re not attractive. I mean, you’d probably look good at any weight. Sixty more pounds and you’d still be good-looking.” Where was the bell when I needed it? As charismatic as I’d felt that afternoon, I was now about as cool as a socks-with-sandals convention. I liked when we weren’t talking and just playing music. I felt my heart about to beat out of my chest, so I turned my head away from him.

“I think you’re not so bad yourself.” He was looking at me. I could feel his eyes.

I turned back to face him and was shocked to see he wasn’t smiling. He was being serious. I couldn’t believe that he was being serious. He put his large hand on my shoulder and leaned forward and kissed me.

My first non-Wes related kiss. It was soft and warm and didn’t last nearly as long as I would’ve liked. I didn’t want it to end.

“I wondered if there would be any guys that were...you know, here.” He smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me kissing you so suddenly.” Of course I didn’t mind. In fact, I wanted more kissing with a side of sexual intercourse. That was a real first kiss. It was the most exciting experience in my entire life, and I was fortunate enough to kiss such an attractive guy.

“No, I liked it.”

“Good, we’ll have to do some more of that.” He leaned forward to kiss me again. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harvey.” He stood up and made his way towards his house. I watched him walk away, his strut sexy and smooth. I tried picturing him sixty pounds lighter and I couldn’t. He carried his weight very well, with broad shoulders, big legs, and a full middle.

And even though he’d just left, I couldn’t wait to see him again.