Love on Stage Page 3

  “I thought you sounded great last night.” He laid down three queens on the table.

  “You heard what you wanted to hear,” she said. “Erica was singing the high notes that Ida can’t reach anymore. And Myrtle doesn’t have the breath control. Archie had to pick up her line.” She laid down the fourth queen to Gavin’s three and then the rest of her cards in a run of hearts. “And I know my voice isn’t strong enough to carry the tune. You were the one who did that.”

  “Then we could all sing together,” Gavin said. “Come on, Grandma. Wouldn’t you like to perform once more on a big stage, like you used to?”

  She had a faraway look in her eyes. “I do miss it sometimes. Especially since your Grandpa Al passed away.”

  “Do you think Aunt Ida and Aunt Myrtle would want to?”

  She laughed. “They’ve never stopped wanting to perform.”

  Gavin jumped up from the table. “Where are they? Can we ask them?”

  Aunt Myrtle and Aunt Ida were out on the front porch in rocking chairs, facing the water. “Gavin has an idea,” Grandma Frances said, taking the third chair.

  He showed them the concert website and a couple of videos.

  “Gavin thinks we could all sing again, if he and Archie and Erica joined us,” Grandma Frances said after he was done. “What do you all think?”

  “Could we?” Aunt Ida asked.

  “Absolutely,” Gavin said. “This promoter says he’d love to have you, as long as we could send him a video that proves you can all still sing.”

  “Wally has a video camera,” Aunt Myrtle said. Her oldest son, Archie’s father, was a computer nut and always had the latest equipment. “He could make the movie for us.”

  “And Jim could play the guitar,” Aunt Ida asked. Her younger son usually accompanied the family when they sang.

  Grandma Frances looked at Myrtle and Ida. “It’s not that easy,” she said. “We’d have to rehearse. Archie has his job, and Erica’s getting ready for graduate school in the fall.”

  “We could make it work,” Gavin said. “At least can we make the video? Please?”

  “We’ll take a family vote this evening,” Grandma Frances said. “If everyone agrees, we go forward.”

  “This is going to be so great!” Gavin said. He kissed his grandmother’s cheek and then those of her sisters. “I’m going to go find Archie and Erica.”

  Convincing

  Gavin found Erica curled up on a window seat in the living room, facing out at the lake, with earbuds in. When she pulled them out, he heard a few bars of what sounded like opera. She turned sideways so that Gavin could sit cross-legged beside her on the window seat. “What’s up?”

  “I was talking to my grandma,” he said.

  He explained the opportunity, but she shook her head. “I don’t think so, Gav. It’s way different from the kind of singing I do, and I need to be careful not to strain my voice before I start school.”

  “But it won’t work without you. Your grandma can’t hit those high notes anymore, not the way you can. And it’s just one performance. How could it hurt?”

  “Just the one?”

  He nodded. “Probably just a single song too. We already know ‘Apple Cider Time,’ so we wouldn’t even have to rehearse.”

  “You always have to rehearse, Gavin. And singing on the porch here is way different from singing in front of an audience.”

  “But it would be good for you, wouldn’t it? Singing in front of a big crowd? I mean, you get crowds for opera, don’t you?”

  “Of course we do.” She wrapped the white earbud cord around her index finger. “It would be kind of fun. And like you say, it would just be one performance. Not a major commitment.”

  “So you’re in?”

  She laughed. “I guess so.”

  “That’s great!” He leaned forward and smooched her cheek. “Now come help me find Archie and recruit him.”

  “He’s going to be a lot harder to convince,” Erica said as they stood up. “He’s so into his job.”

  Archie was a year older, with a business degree and a job as an assistant manager at the bank in Chippewa Falls, a town north of Eau Claire. He was sitting on the grass, leaning back against the trunk of a big maple tree out by the lake, with a blade of grass in his mouth and his cell phone against his ear.

  “Hey, Arch,” Gavin said, sitting down beside him.

  “I’m on the phone,” Archie said, holding it up. “See this funny white metal box? It’s called a phone. And you use it to talk to people you like when they’re not around and the only people with you are relatives.”

  “Ha-ha,” Erica said. “I’ll bet that’s Mary Anne, isn’t it?” She grabbed the phone from him. “Yo, M-A.”

  “That’s my phone. Give it back,” Archie said, but Erica was already in conversation with Archie’s girlfriend.

  “You like to hear Archie sing, don’t you?” Erica asked. She laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t describe his voice that way, but you can. How’d you like to hear him sing at a concert at the Dells, Labor Day?”

  “What are you talking about?” Archie demanded.

  “Yeah, I thought you would,” Erica said. “He’ll call you back with all the details.” She ended the call and handed the phone back to Archie.

  “Are you insane?” he asked. “Oh, wait. I know. You both are.” He took the phone and slipped it into his pocket. He tried to stand up, but Gavin tugged on his shirt.

  “We have this opportunity,” Gavin said and then explained about the concert.

  “No way. I have to work.”

  “Come on, Arch. It’ll be a kick,” Gavin said. “I know you’re a ham at heart.”

  “That would be you, Gavin,” he said. “Me, I’m just a working guy.”

  “Mary Anne said you have a dreamy voice,” Erica said, pretending to swoon. “Don’t you want to do it for her?”

  “She said that?”

  Erica nodded. “And it’s just one performance, over Labor Day. The banks are closed that weekend.”

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.” This time he did stand up and walked back toward the house. Gavin saw him pull his phone out of his pocket as he went.

  “Did Mary Anne really say his voice was dreamy?”

  “Yes.” She stood up. “Clearly she has no taste. Come on, let’s talk to the grandmas.”

  By the time they got back up to the house, Grandma Frances and her sisters were in their customary rocking chairs on the porch.

  “Are you guys talking about the concert?” Gavin asked.

  “We’re having a family disagreement,” Grandma Frances said. “Ida wants to do it, but Myrtle doesn’t.”

  “Don’t go putting words in my mouth, Frances,” Aunt Myrtle said. “I’m perfectly capable of expressing myself. I said you don’t understand how much work it would take to get us ready for a performance. Don’t you remember how hard we had to work back then?”

  “But you’ve been singing ‘Apple Cider Time’ for as long as I can remember,” Gavin said. “You know the words already.”

  “There’s more to it than words,” Aunt Myrtle said. “Erica, you understand. You have to practice in order to make all the voices go together. And we’ve only ever performed with the three of us, not with you children too.”

  “Don’t be such an old stick,” Aunt Ida said. “These children have been singing with us since they could talk.”

  “Who are you calling an old stick?” Aunt Myrtle demanded.

  Gavin jumped in. “How much work would it be?” he asked Erica.

  “We’d have to practice at least an hour a day,” she said. “For a couple of weeks.”

  “That would be sweet,” Aunt Frances said. “The three of us, with our favorite grandchildren.”

  “You only have the one,” Aunt Myrtle said. “So of course Gavin’s your favorite.”

  “Hello,” Gavin said, waving his hand. “I have a sister, remember?”

  Aunt Myrtle looked at h
im. “You do?”

  He shared a look with Erica. “Yeah. Gretchen. She’s three years older than I am.”

  Myrtle looked at Frances. “Wasn’t that the one who died?”

  “That was my little angel,” Ida said. “Scott and Jenny’s first. Melody. She caught the flu and died a few days after they brought her home.”

  “Are you sure?” Myrtle asked.

  “Of course I am! Do you think I could forget any one of my grandbabies?”

  Archie joined them on the porch then. “What’s the matter, Grandma?” he asked Myrtle.

  “My memory isn’t what it was,” she said, shaking her head.

  “But you remember all the lyrics to the songs,” Gavin said. “I know; I’ve heard you sing.”

  “That I do. Sometimes I think all I do remember is what happened a long time ago.”

  “Are you going to sing too?” Archie asked her. “At this concert? Gavin and Erica want me to, but I’m not singing without you.”

  “And I wouldn’t think of doing it without you,” Aunt Myrtle said. She pulled a pair of glasses from her pocket and put them on, then leaned forward. “Which one are you again?”

  There was a collective gasp. Gavin worried that Aunt Myrtle was really losing her mind, and he imagined her forgetting her lines up on stage.

  Then Myrtle chuckled. “I’m not that far gone, you silly geese. You should see your faces!”

  “Myrtle, you’re wicked,” Ida said, slapping playfully at her.

  Gavin was not reassured, but at least they were going forward.

  “You all are going to have to agree to practice, though,” Aunt Myrtle continued. “But how are we going to manage that, with everyone so spread around? The three of us can come up here to stay, but what about you children?”

  “I don’t have anything to do before school starts,” Erica said. “I can stay up here.”

  “And I can take some time off work and come up here again in August,” Gavin said.

  They all looked at Archie. “I can’t just take a few weeks off,” he said. “I only get a week’s vacation, and I already used that this year to go skiing with Mary Anne in March.”

  “It isn’t that far from here to Chippewa Falls,” Erica said, twining her arm with Archie’s. “Please, Arch? You could drive down here after work.”

  Gavin saw Archie look at his grandmother. She had always been the sourest of the three sisters, the one who imagined disaster around every corner, who never bragged about her grandkids because she was afraid of some kind of evil eye. But right then, she looked happy, and Gavin hoped that Archie would agree, for her sake if not for everyone else’s.

  “I guess so,” Archie said.

  After dinner the three cousins walked down to the lake together. “You guys really want to do this thing?” Archie asked.

  “It would be a kick,” Gavin said. “And you saw the way the grannies all lit up when we said we’d do it. They want to be back on stage.”

  “It’ll be fun,” Erica said. “And I’ll get to sing in English for a change.”

  “I suppose I could just stay up here for a few weeks,” Archie said. “Drive into Chippewa Falls for work and then come back here.”

  “When should we start?” Gavin asked. He looked at Erica. “How much time do you really think we’ll need?”

  Erica looked at Archie. “Can you get away starting August fifteenth? Then we wouldn’t be stressed, the grannies wouldn’t get too tired, and I wouldn’t have to worry about straining my voice.”

  “If Mary Anne can come up here weekends.” Archie looked at Gavin. “How about you?”

  “The world of coffee service can do without me for a few weeks.” They were a pretty good-looking trio, Gavin thought, leaning back against a tree. Maybe something could come of this whole gig.

  Hashtag Awesome

  Gavin was jazzed about the performance. By the time he left to return to South Beach, he and his cousins and the grandmas had put together a rehearsal schedule for August, and Erica had given him a series of breathing and vocal exercises he could practice in order to get his voice ready.

  When he got back home that night, his roommates were already in the apartment. “I have the coolest news,” he said. “I’m going to be singing on stage at a concert in the Wisconsin Dells.” He explained how the opportunity had come up. “My grandma and her sisters won’t do it unless my cousins and I join them.”

  “Hashtag awesome,” Manny said, sitting in the other chair. “You should totally get someone to record it, put it up on the web. Then we could see it too.”

  “Yeah, it could go viral,” Larry said. “Like those cats on skateboards.”

  “I’m not getting my grandma and her sisters on skateboards,” Gavin said. “They could break their hips or something.”

  But he did like the idea of his performance being online. It could open a lot of doors for him. He could set up his own website, with his modeling portfolio and the video clips, a way for people to book him for gigs… He kept thinking about that idea, practicing his scales obsessively until he could trill up and down with ease. The next day, he was on the register when Music Dude walked in, and Gavin sang, “Jumbo Joe with extra foam,” trying to hit the notes in order.

  Music Dude nodded and said, “Sounding good.” He handed Gavin his credit card, and Gavin stole a look. The dude’s name was Miles Goodwin, which sounded somehow familiar. As Gavin returned the card after sliding it, Music Dude held out a piece of paper. “Here are some other vocal exercises you can do besides scales to strengthen your lower register.”

  Gavin smiled as he traded the credit card for the printout from some website. That was pretty sweet of the guy, and maybe flirtatious too. “This’ll be really helpful,” he said. “I’ve got to get my voice in order ASAP. I’ve got a singing job Labor Day weekend.”

  “Whereabouts?” Music Dude asked.

  “Wisconsin,” Gavin said. “It’s kind of a family thing.”

  Music Dude nodded. “Can’t have you sounding bad for your family,” he said.

  “I’m not singing for them; I’m singing with them,” Gavin said. “It’s this concert at the Wisconsin Dells.”

  “Not Yesterday’s Music, Today’s Sound?” Goodwin asked. “I’m going to that concert. I really dig that kind of music.”

  Gavin could see one of the Realtor women tapping her high heel behind Miles, like if she didn’t place her order immediately, she was going to lose a million-dollar deal. “I have a break coming up in fifteen. You think you could hang around?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Gavin kept alternating glances at the clock, willing it to spin around more quickly, and checking to make sure that Music Dude, who he had to remember to call Miles, was still there. The café was buzzing with bearded Rasta dudes and skinny-chic models. An Orthodox guy came in with his daughter, and while they waited for his coffee, the little girl tugged on the fringes coming out from beneath his white shirt and shook them like the reins of a pony.

  Finally Gavin was able to pull off his apron and get out from behind the counter. He slipped into the seat across from Miles and stuck out his hand. “Gavin Kaczmarek,” he said.

  “Miles Goodwin. My parents doomed me to a music career by naming me after Miles Davis.”

  “I knew your name sounded kind of familiar. Was he a president or something? Or, like, a Civil War general?”

  Miles laughed. “Jazz musician. My parents were addicted to his music, and I was raised all around it. How about you?”

  “Not named after anybody I know,” Gavin said. “And the music I grew up with was what my grandma and her sisters sang. They were the Singing Sweethearts.”

  “‘Apple Cider Time’?” Miles asked. “I love that song.”

  “Really? I didn’t think anyone under sixty knew it besides my family.”

  “I’m into those vocal harmonies,” Miles said. “I did my master’s thesis on chord construction and the change in counterpoint and polyphony from the
Andrews Sisters to the Beach Boys.” He looked embarrassed. “Sorry, don’t mean to go all music-geek on you.”

  Gavin almost laughed; it was as if the guy knew his nickname. But he restrained himself. “So you know all the technical stuff about music?” he asked.

  “I know a lot.”

  “’Cause I never studied music in college,” Gavin said. He leaned in close. “I can’t even read it. I just know how my grandma’s songs are supposed to sound.”

  “Seems like you could use some tutoring between now and Labor Day,” Miles said. “You want to come by my studio sometime?”

  Inside, Gavin was jumping with glee, and he struggled to hold it together. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “Nah, it could be fun,” Miles said. “Especially since I like the music so much. What time do you get off here?”

  “Two,” Gavin said.

  Miles pulled a card out of his wallet. “Here’s my address. Why don’t you come over when you get done?”

  “Gavin!” Careful’s voice rang out in the modern space.

  “That would be awesome.” Gavin took the card and stood up. “Gotta get back to work.”

  At the register he clocked in again, conscious of Careful staring at him. “What?” he asked.

  Careful shook his head, his dreads swaying like curtains in a gentle breeze. “I tell you, bwoi. No fooling around with the customers. Bad for business.”

  “We weren’t fooling around,” Gavin protested, though he was sure that Miles was gay and that there could be some fooling around in the future. “Just talking about music. He gave me this list of vocal exercises, and he’s going to help me practice for my concert.”

  He showed the paper to Careful, who scanned it. “Coo-coo-ah-ooh-oh,” he said. “Sounds pretty cuckoo to me.”

  “You just don’t understand what it is to be an artist,” Gavin said, snatching the paper back from him.

  Careful laughed. “Your turn on the coffee bar. Go make your art there.”

  Miles left a few minutes later, and Gavin stole a glance at his card. His office, or studio, or whatever, was in a tall building on the east side of Lincoln Road. He probably stopped by Java Joe’s on his way to work.