The violin had not been Maureen’s passion as a child, nor even a real interest. It had been one of those things parents forcibly compelled their children to engage in. Touted as a crux personal of development it was privately praised for the few moments a week it granted them time alone. The implications of her mandated attendance and her younger sister birth, just 10 months to the day after her first lesson, did not occur to Maureen for more years than she was proud of.
It was not until she was an adult in December of 1966 that the origin story of her career as a violinist was brought mockingly into the light of day by the assistant conductor of The Columbus Symphony Orchestra. The pair, though not a couple, were sipping coffee in the Parisian styled cafe opened on the second floor of the Lazarus Department store when the revelation came into being.
Overlooking the bustling streets of downtown, the cafe was decorated with all the intricate brilliances of its Manhattan counter parts. Crystal chandeliers lit marble floors as clerks in white gloves tended to visitors every need. In front of them fine china, conveniently sold two floors up, held the first regularly brewed Turkish roast coffee in Columbus.
This luxurious locale had been chosen by her counterpart, James Gutenbarg. At over six foot four inches James seemed as though he towered over the city, yet he refused to walk more than a block for lunch. Consequently, they had found themselves in high backed chairs with a slightly to narrow table set between them looking over downtown discussing the Orchestra’s upcoming performance season.
“Well I’ll be. Your probably right but that is terrible.” Maureen said before begrudgingly admitting that her lessons did tend to occur at the times which were most convenient to her parents not herself. The two laughed heartily in response. Despite being several years apart in age they had a comradery to them which had bound them together from the day they met.
James had dubbed it the commonality of the melancholy. A state in which two naturally uncomfortable people are made comfortable upon recognition of this quality in another. So when the waitress approached offering another pot of coffee they demurely agreed, despite neither wanting any.
“So I have a favor to ask.” James said with a smirk. Maureen hated when he smirked. It reminded her of her older brother’s face before he beat her in a board game, somehow arrogant and endearing at the same time.
Her head dropped in anticipation into a dead eyed stare. “Do tell.”
“A friend of mine is a reporter for the Citizen-Journal and they asked him to do an editorial piece on the arts in Columbus but apparently he knows very little about it.”
“A weird request then.” Maureen’s stare hardened even as the waitress arrived with the pot to refill their cups. She nodded a curt thank you, still fixated on her friend.
James for his part was more aloof than ever. A broad smile on his face he thanked the waitress then carefully added the cream and sugar to his cup. “Well he has been covering the German Village and they wanted to try something else.”
Maureen instantly knew where this was headed. She had played this game with James before, in fact their friendship had been built of similar machinations of their own invention. If trust existed in their friendship it did so in large part with the understanding that no machination would turn truly negative. “I see. So you want me to talk to him?”
Sensing this James’ raised his hands innocently. “Not quiet, I want you to take him to anywhere in the city that has decent music.”
Maureen sipped her coffee with a smirk, she knew she could use this. The gentle clicks of the china as she carefully rested the cup back in its saucer, admiring the intricately woven pattern of gold and blue. “What?”
“Well obviously they have an arts reporter who covers the Orchestra, no this is about the city so he needs someone to show him the fun of it all.” James was looking out over the street, a crowd of businessmen passed below on their way to the bus. The first diesel bus had just begun running the prior winter, replacing the streetcars and trolley buses, they were still a reminder of Columbus’ growth.
Maureen rolled her eyes. It was not the first time James had tried to fix her up but was certainly the most creative. “Fine.” She said, then added, “But I want an audition for 2nd chair inside the next three months.”
James watched the packed bus pull away from the curb then turned back to Maureen. “January 17th at 10 am is the current time, just let me know if that doesn’t work.”
“You ass.” Maureen spat with a laugh. “Okay so tell me about this guy and his supposed article.” She rocked her empty cup in its saucer as if she was toppling her king in a game of chess.
“What would you like to know?” James said supremely as he cocked his head ever so slightly to signal for the waitress.
“His name for starters would be good.”
“Ford.” James said flatly. So matter of fact was James declaration that Maureen, repeated it twice for confirmation. Had it not been for this moment it is possible that she would have forgotten the details of the conversation over the years and remembered the interaction for its impact on her career rather than as the first time she had heard her husband’s name spoken aloud.
Instead the story would take on a near mythic lore in her family. Repeated at anniversaries, dinner parties, and work functions generations could recall the entirety of it from the outset. Later in life when trying to convince her son to give piano lessons another shot so Ford and her could schedule a date night Maureen would realize the irony involved. Upon inspection later in the night she would absently muse to her husband how we often don’t know from the outset where a path will lead us or what joy may be found along the way.
Ab Initio: from the beginning
Author’s Note: Day 14 of 365 down! Now I just need to get my posting schedule back on track. I don’t like posting more than one short story a day but I think I am going to have to. In regards to today’s post we were introduced to Ford in old age as he looked back on his life. When I decided to revisit Columbus’ past and that world I really wanted to introduce Maureen from the beginning of their joint story. You can read about Ford’s story HERE.
The Flask/Pen 