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| © 2010 GREG DUNAJ |
THE MUSIC MADE ME CRY
by Greg Dunaj
"Honey, where is that t-shirt of mine," yelled Harry, his head thrust in the closet.
No answer came from his wife. Harry threw clothes out, over his shoulders, as he tore apart the closet.
"Honey! I can't find it."
He stepped over the pile of clothes he had formed and went to the second floor landing.
"Kris, you know the one I'm looking for. I can't find it."
Kris, hands rung in a towel, a child whimpering somewhere out of sight, stepped into view.
"I don't know where it is."
Her voice was tense, her utterance tempered.
"C'mon Kris..."
"You really think I know where you have your t-shirt? I'm going to have to look too. You do it."
"C'mon Kris. I don't have time."
"All right," said Kris after a moment of tapping her foot. "Then you come down here and take care of Amanda then. She needs to eat."
"All right, all right," said Harry, running down the stairs. "Just hurry up, huh."
Kris trudged up the stairs without looking at Harry.
Amanda was crusted over with strained something or other and mouthing a pretzel stick when Harry bounced into the kitchen. The child shyly lifted a shoulder when her father ran in and she giggled as he tickled her.
"Gonna go where my heart can breathe," sang Harry as he pranced over to the refrigerator, flung open the door and danced in front of it as he looked for a snack. "Scale the walls and swim that stream," he sang.
Amanda threw her pretzel stick to the floor and began to cry.
"Okay, okay, I won't sing," said Harry, pulling his head out of the refrigerator. In his hands he had some luncheon meat, bread and mustard. He put everything on the kitchen table. Amanda had stopped her crying long enough to watch her father place everything down, but then lost interest and began to cry again. Harry fetched her pretzel stick from the floor, but it did not help. She threw the pretzel to the floor and wailed.
Kris came down the stairs clutching Harry's t-shirt.
"Great," he said as she threw it at him.
"It was in the mess you made. You have to look beyond your nose Harry. And before you leave with Carlo, I want you to clean that mess up."
Kris began to attend to Amanda. Harry peeled off his shirt and put on the grey t-shirt. It was well worn and wrinkled. There was a picture on the front of a man flapping feathered wings high above an exploding Earth. The picture was flaking, and as Harry smoothed his hands over it, bits of the design came off on his hands. There was a hole ripped into the left shoulder and the words, "Escape From Chaos, U.S. Tour 1974" were so faded they were barely perceptible.
"Looks great," said Harry, beaming.
"Sure it does," said Kris, not looking up at her husband. "You look simply wonderful dear," she said as she roughly wiped Amanda's mouth with a washrag. The child squirmed, whimpered and finally began to cry.
Harry ignored all the commotion and began to fix himself a sandwich.
"Gonna go where my heart can sing...," he sang.
The shrieking Amanda was lifted out of her highchair by Kris and brought over to the kitchen sink.
"I should hose you down outside young lady," said Kris.
The child continued to wail.
"Fly away, fly fly away," sang Harry.
"Stop it! Stop it both of you!"
Kris plopped Amanda on the floor of the kitchen. The child wailed as she tried to grip Kris' leg. Kris walked away to look out a window.
"All right," said Harry, "all right, I won't sing."
Kris walked back to the sink, wet her face and dried it with a dish towel. She bent down to pick up her shrieking child, placed Amanda on her hip and watched Harry complete his sandwich. Amanda finally calmed, but clung desperately to her mother. Kris took a seat next to Harry.
Harry looked up from his sandwich, at his glowering wife.
"I'm not singing."
"I can understand you wanting to get away for a night. A couple of beers, a cigar and a game of cards with the boys would be fine. I can even live with an overnight fishing trip. Even a weekend. But, not this, not a week, a week with Carlo Breese. Carlo Breese," she repeated with a grimace, "of all people."
"Four days. It's just four days...a long weekend. Besides, I haven't seen Carlo in years."
"The last time you and Carlo got together, the car was wrecked and I had to bail you out of jail."
"Ancient history. Can I help it if a farmer can't keep his cows penned up. You're bound to cream one if it's in the middle of the road. Hey, get it, cream one? And what difference does it make. The insurance took care of everything. Besides, it was a pilgrimage to Dedalus' home town. Carlo had found out where he lived as a boy."
"Look, don't give me that crap will you. Don't talk about it like it was some religious event. This Dedalus guy is just some singer...and he hasn't done anything new in what, fifteen years. He's a nobody."
Harry's eyes narrowed and he set his jaw. His lips trembled as if something was going to spew out. But, without taking his eyes off Kris, Harry reached down for his sandwich and took a large bite out of it. For a few seconds he chewed in silence.
"The man saved my life," said Harry suddenly, bits of bread dribbled out of his mouth. Kris rolled her eyes. Amanda cried as she reached for her father's sandwich. "Never would have gotten out of adolescence."
Harry gestured with the sandwich, shook it at his wife.
"You would never have met me. We would never have bought this house or had Amanda. Him. It has Dedalus who kept me going."
"Listen pal," said Kris with a crooked smile perched menacingly on her lips, "what's kept you going is my Dad. Without him you would not have been able to buy this house. Without him you wouldn't have a job."
Harry shook his sandwich once more, thought to say something, but just shoved the rest of it in his mouth. Amanda cried as the last of the sandwich disappeared down her father's gullet.
"Low blow," mumbled Harry after gulping. "A real low blow. Just because I take his generous offer, I've got to take abuse from you? Can I help it if my own songwriting career never took off?"
"I guess life reflects art with a cracked mirror," said Kris, with a sneer. Then she immediately softened. She nodded her head and apologized. "Your music is why I fell in love with you in the first place."
They drifted into silence and Amanda nuzzled her mother's breasts and as Harry reminisced, he sighed softly.
"Remember when I used to play guitar on a bench on the boardwalk in the evening?"
"Cool summer nights with the big, yellow moon rising out of the ocean," said Kris, smiling also.
"Very romantic," said Harry closing his eyes and leaning forward for a kiss.
Amanda grabbed his lip and laughing, twisted it.
"But what is Carlo back for now," Kris said as she watched Harry pry Amanda's fingers from his lip. "Another pilgrimage? What rock's he been living under?"
"He's been living in Paris."
"I didn't know he could speak French."
"He must speak it well enough to get his face slapped."
"It must get slapped alot."
"You know, Carlo is a nice guy, if you get to know him. I grew up with him."
"Harry! The guy's a lunatic. He made a pass at me...on our wedding day...on the dance floor!"
"He just wanted to kiss you."
"On my ear, with his tongue?"
"He was drunk."
"He was Carlo. You get into too much trouble when he's around. Good thing he lives in Paris, I wouldn't have a husband. Every time you two get together, you go off the deep end. Look, why don't you just stay home and have him visit. That would be much nicer than you running off with him. I promise, I'll get to know him."
Kris watched Harry sullenly push bread crumbs on the table with a forefinger.
"I'll even let him tongue my ear."
Harry looked up at Kris, and the two of them collapsed into laughter. Baby Amanda began to cry and Kris bounced the child on her knee to comfort her.
"He is a wacko, huh," said Harry. He covered his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose.
"Go with him please...don't let him in the house," and their laughter began to hurt their sides.
A car horn sounded outside, quieting them.
"Well, here comes trouble," she said, standing to peer out a window at the street.
Harry bounded from the kitchen and up the stairs to finish packing his bag.
"Let him in," he shouted.
"Harry! Don't leave me alone with that nut."
Harry shouted something not understood from the second floor. Then, Carlo was at the screen door to the kitchen, knocking. Kris froze and took a deep breath before turning around to face him.
There he was, grinning widely, his mouth brimming with clean, white teeth. Harry's blond hair was already thinning, but Carlo, two years older, still possessed great shocks of thick, black, curly hair.
"Hello Kris," said Carlo.
Kris stammered something in response and drew her daughter to her chest.
"Well," said Carlo after awhile, "may I come in?"
Kris said yes, but sat down on a kitchen chair.
"The screen door's locked, Kris. Oh well, I'll have to admire you two from afar. Two beautiful women. Harry is a lucky guy."
Kris covered her ears, then Amanda's, then her own.
"Are you not my sweetheart?" asked Carlo of Amanda. The child giggled in response. "You are a pretty girl and you are lucky to have a beautiful mother holding you."
"Huh," said Kris who did not realize Carlo was speaking French.
Harry came bounding down the stairs clutching a small, blue backpack.
"Hey! Carlo."
"Hey buddy."
"What're you doing outside?"
"I'm locked out. I can't come in."
"Kris, what's the matter with you?"
Harry opened the door. Kris mumbled some excuse. Carlo walked right over to Amanda and though Kris clung to her child, Amanda reached for Carlo and went willingly to his arms.
"Go figure," said Harry. "Usually she's really clingy. Doesn't want me to hold her."
Carlo cuddled the child and sang softly to her in French. Amanda smiled and giggled and began to pull and twist Carlo's lip. He chewed her fingers. Harry smiled at all this while the stern look on Kris' face melted into a worrisome frown. Only when Amanda finally grew tired of the novelty of Carlo's arms and she whimpered and strained for her mother did Kris smile again. Kris ignored the compliments Carlo launched at her and walked the child into living room, away from the two men.
The two men looked at each other before hugging. Childhood friends, they had known each other since they were little more than toddlers. They first met when Harry, as a five year old, trundled two doors down to Carlo's backyard.
Carlo had been raised by an aunt. His mother died in childbirth, and his father abandoned him with his mother's sister. His aunt was dead now as well, leaving Carlo with no other family save Harry. They were inseparable as children. The years were speckled with family trips and gatherings. There had been backyard camping trips inside makeshift lean-to's, bicycle rides into the swamps and meadows that edged their hometown in New Jersey, at least one family jaunt by bus to the Statue of Liberty and seemingly countless summers at the Jersey shore.
They had grown up together and shared many experiences. They even lost their virginity together while on vacation one summer in Seaside Heights. There, beneath the boardwalk, they shared a girl. It was Carlo who started the conversation. He was always the one to push them into new and awkward situations.
They met the girl in front of a boardwalk game and their lovemaking was purchased with a Teddy bear won by Harry in a milk bottle game. Harry pitched for the junior varsity baseball team.
To this day Harry will dream fondly of the nameless girl, clutching the white bear as she lay back on the sand in the dark beneath the boardwalk, the swirl of lights and music and rides giving way to the low rumbling of the ageless grey waves of the Atlantic
"Long time," said Carlo as he pulled away to look at Harry.
"Too long. It's been a year, right?"
"I've been in Paris just over two years now."
"What's it like? Funny, after two years I still don't know anything about you in Paris. You never called or wrote."
"Well, Paris is the most beautiful city in the world. And, the women there are gorgeous. And, hey, I wrote you a couple of postcards. I tried calling last Christmas Eve, but I was a little drunk and I didn't get through."
Harry laughed.
"As soon as I heard the news about Dedalus I wrote to you. He, er, he was in Paris for a show.”
“No way? Really? The guy hasn’t played in years and he’s in Paris.”
Carlo nodded his head and smiled.
“It’s something, huh. Then I heard he was coming to the U.S… to Dallas.”
"Dallas? You mean D.C. right?"
"No, Dallas. I was mistaken."
"Whoa. I thought we were going to Washington, D.C. I won't be able to go as far as Dallas. I don't have enough time. My job...Kris would never...."
Carlo took Harry by the arm and led him into the backyard.
"I knew Kris would balk. That's why I said D.C."
"I've only got four days."
"We'll do it. We can easily do it."
"Carlo, you don't understand. I've got a family, a job. I just can't take off for two weeks."
"Who said anything about two weeks? Four days. That's all. We'll make it. Besides, are you really happy here?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"It's a good question."
"A good question! You have a lot of nerve. I love my family."
"Harry, Harry, that's not what I'm talking about. What're you doing for a living?"
"I've got a good job. Pays the mortgage. No one starves."
"What are you doing. That's what I asked. Money is never a problem. You can always make money, but, are you happy with what you're doing?"
"Yes," said Harry quickly. He then turned and walked into the small backyard. Carlo lit a cigarette. He held the match close to his palm to feel the heat, before dousing it with a thumb and forefinger. Harry sat down on a white plastic seat.
"Of course you are," said Carlo as he took a chair next to Harry. "But Harry, you know I know you; we grew up together. Do I have to remind you about dreams? Your dreams. My dreams. I mean, as we get older we start to have recollections, rather than aspirations. Dreams get squashed with a family, a house, a job. Evidently you have a good life here and I envy you. I really do. But I bet you are beginning to remember all the things you had forgotten. Even though things are good, they are not good for you. You are missing something. Your life can't just be out here pruning the bushes and changing Amanda's diapers."
Harry screwed up his face and rolled his eyes at Carlo.
"You're a little too heavy here, you know. Aren’t we just a bit too heavy here? All I'm complaining about is the extra time it's going to take to drive out to Dallas and you are trying to condemn me to a permanent mid-life crisis."
Carlo stared at Harry, until Harry had to look away.
"Well then...maybe I'm wrong."
"Well, yeah...maybe."
"One question then."
"Fire."
"You still playing? Still writing songs?"
"Yes," said Harry. "Some. I'm working on a lot of things. Every moment of every free time."
Carlo chuckled.
"Good. I've got you wrong pal. I'm glad. I don't want you to be unhappy. You're playing and you're writing and you've got your family going. That's good."
"Thanks. Now with that endorsement I can sleep at night. So, why are you suddenly so worried about my life? What about yours?"
"Well, I'm not so happy. Tell you the truth, I'm nervous. As soon as I heard Dedalus was appearing in Dallas, I told Madeline I was leaving her."
"What? Who? Madeline? Is this the girl of your dreams?"
Carlo shook his head and chuckled.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah...We met, we live together and she's great and wonderful...but, she was getting serious."
"To hell with a mid-life crisis theory, this is more like a classic case of cold-feet."
They both laughed.
"Well, yes and no. Harry, I need a shot of Dedalus. You know me; serious is not in my vocabulary. Maybe this is a last fling for me, I don't know. After this maybe I'll be able to go back and face Madeline with a pruning shear.
"I didn't think the French got that serious about this sort of thing."
Carlo rolled his eyes.
"Don't be ridiculous."
"No, seriously. I read somewhere about a survey. French men were asked what they did after sex and a majority of them said they went home to their wives."
"Well, I'm not French am I?"
"No...guess not."
They laughed and Carlo changed the subject.
"Come with me Harry. So maybe I do need this shot of Dedalus more than you. I envy you. You got everything in order."
"Funny, I've always envied your rambling self."
"Switch lives?"
"No, no. Kris would kill us both. But Amanda would get a kick out of it."
"Hey, look at your shirt. I just noticed it. It's a Dedalus tour shirt. I lost mine a long time ago. Probably a bum's wearing mine."
They both regarded Harry's t-shirt. Harry smoothed the wrinkled shirt with his hand and some more bits of the design came away on his palm.
"From 1974. Remember that show at Madison Square Garden?"
"I wish I could. Remember how drunk we got? On what?"
"Screwdrivers! We mixed a gallon of it in one of those leather pouches."
"Yeah! And that bar we went to in New York. It was a Blarney Stone...Guinness on tap. 'A wee bit warm.'"
"Oh! ‘A wee bit warm’... The only way to serve it. It was a good thing we took the train in."
"We would have ended up in the Hudson if we drove."
"Yeah. We would've hit a cow in New York City."
Carlo laughed until he almost fell out of his chair.
"We got out of hand on that last trip. We have to be more careful this time. Texas has a lot more cattle than New Jersey," said Harry.
Carlo quieted and turned in his chair to look at Harry.
"So, you're coming."
"Sure."
"I didn't think you would."
"For a Dedalus concert? It’s the first one in at least ten years. I'll go all the way to Dallas. I was thinking to maybe wait until the tour swung by New York, but I haven't heard anything about it at all. It's funny how you heard about Dedalus in Paris."
"Yes," said Carlo. "I can't explain just yet. But, don't worry, we'll have a good time. The time of your life."
Kris came out the screendoor, a finger to her lips.
"The baby is asleep. Keep it down out here."
"Oh, I didn't say good-night to her," said Harry.
"There will be plenty of other times."
"But, I'm going away tonight."
"So, you're going."
Kris walked over to a chaise lounge. She sat down and lighted a cigarette.
"I guess this was inevitable. Since you wrote to Harry, all he's done is play Dedalus records. Over and over. And, for the first time in months Harry's picked up his guitar and at least started playing Dedalus songs. It seems a little bit of the artist has crept back into my boy."
Harry looked out the corner of his eye at Carlo. Carlo smiled, but said nothing.
"So how many dates on this wannabe's tour?"
"Just a couple, here and there."
"But he's not coming to New York?"
"Nope."
"Not even Philadelphia? Is D.C. his only east coast show?"
"Well, not exactly..."
"Yeah, well, let me explain," said Harry gesturing nervously with his hands. "He's performing in Dallas."
"Dallas! That's half-way across the country for crying out loud. You are not taking the car there, and we don't have the money to fly. And, you've only got four days. You have to work. My father won't cut you that much slack."
"I've got a car, a rental," said Carlo, a slight smirk on his lips. "We can still leave tonight, we'll take turns driving and we can get there the afternoon of the show. We'll turn right around...you'll have your Harry back before you miss him. Besides, Harry has been waiting for years for this. This is a big event for him. If you're afraid of being alone, I can stay with you, and Harry will go by himself."
Carlo arched his eyebrows and smiled, thinking he was rather witty. But, Harry knew better; he lowered his eyes as Kris sat there with a stern look on her face. Smoke trailed out of her slightly open mouth. Both her head and the hand that held her cigarette nodded at Carlo. She squeezed one eye closed and arched the other's eyebrow. The open mouth curled into a sinister grin and Harry leaned away from Kris as she took another drag on her cigarette.
Suddenly she struck.
"What are you, fucking nuts!? You think I'm going to sit here while you two run all over the country!?"
Both men now leaned away from Kris and cringed.
"That fucking last trip was bad enough, but Dallas? What am I a bus terminal? Harry, I know this character, you won't be home in four days and you won't just go to Dallas either. He's gonna drag you all over to who-knows where. You go off the deep end with him around..."
"Okay, okay, okay, okay," said Harry standing and waving his hands. "I won't go. Whatever you want. I won't go."
Kris quieted into one of her patented scowls. Her squinting eyes searched the faces of the two men. Neither one would meet her eyes. Harry turned instead to Carlo.
"Sorry pal. I'm not going. I can't."
"I understand. Well, then, I've got a long way to drive, so I'm going to head off. Abiento. I'll send you another post card."
Carlo stood. The two men hugged and shook hands. Carlo turned and waved at the still-scowling Kris, who closed her eyes and nodded briskly. Carlo walked out of the backyard and closed the wooden gate behind him. Harry sat again on his white, plastic chair and looked at a spot between his feet as Kris scowled at him and they listened as Carlo started his car and drove away.
After a time of scowling and lighting another cigarette and some more scowling Kris said, "You think you're smart, huh?"
"What?"
"You didn't think I'd remember. You guys did this same thing to me last time. Without an argument Carlo drove off and waited around the corner for you, or me, to agree to let you go."
"What are you talking about Kris?"
"Don't play dumb Harry Days. You're cute enough to be dumb, but don't act like you are. You want to go. This trip is so important to you, that you'd lie to me."
"That's not true, Honey. I didn't find out about Dallas until today. It's obvious you don't want me to go, so I won't go."
"And once you're on the road, what else are you going to find out? Also, I'd like to remind you how I'm stuck here all day with Amanda. My own career has been forgotten and you, you're off trying to find your teenage years again. I don't even get a chance to worry about that kind of stuff."
"Well, we've got to get your ideas in motion. Maybe it'll be good for you to get a job and get someone else to take care of Amanda."
"Yeah, sure, maybe. I've heard this before. Just remember me when you're off on this trip. And remember this isn't just your world you're living in."
Harry stood and walked over to his wife. He bent down and kissed her. She stood and they hugged.
"I love you," he said.
"Yeah? Good. I love you too."
As they hugged and kissed again a car rounded the corner and pulled up. Carlo appeared at the gate.
"Uh, I had to come back, because I, uh, needed to use the bathroom."
"Carlo," said Harry, still looking at Kris, "save it. I'm going."
"You are!?"
"He said 'save it' Carlo. He's going already, so don't pull that shit with me again."
"Again?"
"Yeah, again."
"She's on to us Carlo."
Upstairs in her bedroom, Amanda began to cry.
"The kid's up," said Harry. "I'll get her."
"No. Just go. I'll get her. Good-bye."
She kissed him once more.
"Thanks, Honey."
"You be careful," said Kris, fighting back tears. "And you Carlo, you son of a bitch, don't get too crazy. Harry doesn't need any help going off the deep end. He's the man of this house and Amanda and I need him home in one piece."
With that Kris ran into the house and up the stairs. On the second floor landing she plowed through the pile of clothes Harry had formed while searching for his Dedalus t-shirt and had neglected to clean. She cursed her husband and started running down the stairs in order to catch him and force him to clean up his mess, when she heard the car pull away.
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