Guitar Notes (20 page)

 NOVEMBER 21. FRIDAY.

 NOVEMBER 22. SATURDAY.

In the clearing on the right are an ancient-looking stone house and a beautiful wooden barn. Above the front doors of the barn is a big, brightly colored hand-painted sign:
THE POMEGRANATE PLAYHOUSE
.

After the cab pulls away, Tripp sets down the guitar case and turns to Lyla. “I can’t do this,” he says.

She picks up the case. “Yes, you can.”

“You’ve played in front of billions of people. I haven’t.”

She pulls his arm. “Come on. We’re going.”

Cars are already parked on the grass next to the barn, and another car is just arriving. They head down a stone path decorated with pumpkins that have been scooped
out and filled with wildflowers, catching a glimpse of water and a small dock with a rowboat through the woods. Inside the barn is a stage with an ornately painted proscenium and shimmering curtains that are pulled aside. A dozen people are already sitting in the audience. More are coming in behind them.

Lyla motions for Tripp to look on the walls. Large paintings of pomegranates line both sides of the room.

A man in a suit comes over, and Lyla explains who they are. “Mom,” he calls to an old woman talking to another woman by the stage. “The musicians are here!”

The old woman walks over, wildflowers in her hands. Although her face is lined with wrinkles, her eyes are blue and disarmingly clear, and a thick white braid hangs over her shoulder. Her dress is wine-colored with bright splashes of white and blue. “I’m Ruby. You’re the Thrum Society?” She is clearly surprised.

“If you don’t want us to play—” Tripp pulls back, and Lyla elbows him.

“Of course I want you to play!” A smile lights her face. “I’m delighted! So young! What talent! Come in, come in! I know we said we’d start at noon, but as soon as everybody’s here, we’re going to dive right in.”

“No rehearsal?” Lyla asks.

“You’ll be great.” She smiles, walking them up the side stairs onto the stage, where there are two chairs and microphones off to the right. A woman wearing a
ministerial robe walks onto the stage, adjusting her collar, and Ruby introduces them to her. “Romeo is going to play the accordion for the entrance and the exit. So just sit tight. After the vows, Reverend Liz will give you a nod and you can play your waltz. How does this setup look? Need anything else?”

Tripp and Lyla look at each other. “Looks fine,” Lyla says.

More people come in, and Ruby squeals with delight and rushes off to greet them.

Tripp and Lyla sit down.

“I didn’t think we’d be on a stage,” Tripp whispers. “I feel like everybody is looking at us.”

Finally, just after all the seats fill, Reverend Liz stands in the center of the stage and looks at the doorway with an expectant smile. A tiny old man appears in the frame with a small button accordion, wearing a striped tuxedo with tails and a top hat. At first, it appears as though he is too frail to move, but he begins to play the accordion and does a funny shuffling dance up the aisle, stopping halfway to catch his breath. When he gets to the stairs leading up to the stage, he stops and gives a shrug and smile, saying in an Italian accent, “A long way up, no?”

Everybody laughs. Ruby’s son and another man get one of the chairs from the stage and bring it down to him. After he sits, they carry the chair, with him in it, up the stairs and set it onstage.

Romeo plays louder and everyone turns to face the doorway.

Ruby appears with the wildflowers in her hands. She smiles at everyone as she walks down the aisle and up the stage steps to take the chair next to Romeo.

“Can I kiss my bride now?” the old man asks Reverend Liz. “Because maybe I don’t make it to the end.”

Everybody cheers them on, and he and Ruby share a kiss.

“I didn’t think she was the bride,” Lyla whispers.

“Me neither,” Tripp whispers back.

While the minister tells the story of how Ruby and Romeo met in Italy when Ruby wandered into a gallery and saw his paintings of pomegranates, Tripp thinks about how perfect and happy they look together. Then it’s time for the vows, and he can feel the nervousness approaching like a tidal wave; at any moment, the minister will be turning to give them the cue to sing. But the way Romeo takes Ruby’s face in his hands and looks straight into her eyes catches Tripp off guard. He was expecting the standard recitation of vows; instead, Romeo is speaking in a voice that—even though Tripp can’t understand the words—seems to be springing directly from the old man’s heart.
“Prometto di ascoltarti quando sei triste e di ridere con te quando sei felice.”
Romeo puts his hand on his chest. “I feel you in here, Ruby. And no matter what happens, I will always love you.” He smiles and puts a ring on her finger.

Ruby wipes away a tear and kisses him and whispers, “How did I get so lucky?”

He shrugs and she laughs. Then, through her tears, she says, “I, Ruby, take you, Romeo, to be my husband. I promise to listen to you when you are sad and to laugh with you when you are happy. I feel you in my heart. And no matter what happens, I will always love you.” She puts a ring on his finger.

They kiss.

The minister nods at Tripp and Lyla to play their song.

Tripp feels all the blood rush from his head as the room grows silent and all eyes turn to them. He cannot possibly sing, and then he looks at Lyla, and her smile is like a hand on his arm. He takes a breath and starts to play. They sing the first few notes, and the familiar sound of their voices together gives him an added breath of confidence. His body relaxes and he lets the song pour out, their voices surging in harmony. It is the first time they have ever played in a large, open room; and, as their sound fills the room, it seems to join forces with the love that is emanating from Ruby and Romeo and the love that is pouring out of the entire audience, and it fills a space inside Tripp’s chest and makes him feel more alive than he has ever felt.

When the last note ends, the silence that comes after it feels holy. He looks at Lyla. Her eyes are glistening, and she gives him a secret smile. They did it.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife!” the minister exclaims.

After Romeo and Ruby kiss, Romeo picks up his accordion and starts to play. Ruby’s son and other men jump onstage and lift up both Ruby and Romeo in their chairs and carry them around while everyone follows, dancing and clapping, in a line.

Lyla jumps up and grabs Tripp’s hand and they join the line. Lyla looks as if she couldn’t possibly be happier, and it makes Tripp laugh out loud.

“What’s so funny?” she yells over the noise.

He grins and shakes his head, unable to explain it.

The whole procession spills out of the barn, and when the song is over, Ruby invites everyone inside to eat lunch in the house, to return to the barn for more dancing, or to take the rowboat out for a ride.

“Let’s take the boat out before it’s time for the cab to come,” Tripp suggests.

Lyla grabs the guitar and they head down to the dock.

Bordered on all sides by pine trees, the lake is full of small inlets edged with marsh grasses. Tripp rows, and Lyla sits opposite him with the guitar in her lap. They glide, listening to the splash of the oars and the creak of the boat, and then she starts to play. When they get to the middle of the lake, the gathering clouds drift over half of the sun, creating a ray that illuminates a path on the water. She stops and gives the guitar to Tripp. He
starts to play the chords she was playing, but plucks a rhythm that he has never tried before.

She leans forward. “I like how that sounds. Play it again.”

He repeats the rhythm.

“We need to make up a new song,” she says.

“What should it be about?”

She looks across the water and says, “All this.”

“The lake?”

She smiles. “This feeling. This whole day has been so cool. I feel so lucky.” The boat rocks gently.

He stops playing. “Did you ever think about how if I had been assigned to Room A instead of Room B, you wouldn’t have seen my trash or the guitar, and we wouldn’t have started writing notes, and we wouldn’t be here right now?”

She nods. “That’s what I mean. I feel lucky.”

“
Trash is so lucky
,” he sings and strums.

She laughs. “I want it to be a thrumming song.… When we were singing in there …”

He looks up.

“… I felt like all our souls were thrumming at the same frequency.” Her eyes are bright. “Yours. Mine. Ruby’s. Romeo’s. Everybody’s.”

He knew she felt the same way he did. He plays the chord progression again and sings, “
Lucky, lucky me
.”

“I like it!” she says. “That should be in the chorus. Let’s get it down before we forget.” She reaches into her
coat pocket and produces her digital recorder with a smile. “I’m like a Girl Scout. Always prepared.” They sing it again and she records it.

“Let’s have a verse that is kind of sad and then when it gets to the chorus, it’s happy.”

“I can do sad.” He strums and sings,
“Before today, my days were blue. I was locked in a closet …”

“… with mops and shampoo …”
Lyla laughs.

“… and a kangaroo,”
he adds,
“and a stinkin’ shoe …”

They start to experiment with different lines when they hear a voice.

“Lyla!”

It sends a shock through them at the same time. They look back toward the dock, and there, against the backdrop of the darkening sky, is Lyla’s dad.

“Oh, this is not good,” Lyla says.

“How did he find us?”

“Lyla!” her dad calls again.

“What should we do?” Tripp asks.

“What do you mean? What choice do we have? We have to row back.” Lyla takes the guitar from him.