Cats and Clarinet
AN: So they say to write about what you know. And I know the clarinet. To be honest, I scream 'blasphemy!" every time I watch DPS and hear Charlie say that he hates the clarinet. I'm a clarinet player, so it's only natural! In any case, I wrote this as both a reaction to that scene, and an exploration of Charlie and Cameron's characters. I think you see a softer side to both of them in this.
It was a typical evening. Charlie Dalton, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, was lounging on his bed. He was not doing his homework, and he certainly was not speaking to Richard Cameron, his pretentious perfectionist of a roommate. Cameron, of course, was completely immersed in his trigonometry homework. Oh, how pleased Dr. Hager would be, Charlie thought. As if sine and cosine were actually important. Well, then again, I'm stuck becoming a banker, so sign and cosign are pretty important…. Charlie sighed. He hated being left to his thoughts. He just wanted to do something; that is, he wanted to stir up some trouble. He just needed an idea. A clever, but devious idea…
He thought for a few more minutes, and he had it. His master plan. The unfortunate bit? It involved talking to Richard Cameron. Well, thought Charlie. I will do what I have to do.
He spoke up. "Hey, Cameron. You said you love the clarinet, right?" Cameron looked up. He eyed Charlie somewhat suspiciously, and promptly gestured at his textbook. "Can't you see that I'm doing trig?" he asked, frustrated. Charlie rolled his eyes. "You're doing trig? I'm sorry, I hadn't noticed." "At least I actually do my homework, Dalton," Cameron snapped. He turned back to his work, thinking he would no longer be bothered. He was wrong of course. This was Charlie Dalton he was dealing with.
"I was being completely serious, Cameron," Charlie continued. "Why do you like the clarinet? I played that awful instrument for years and never saw the appeal. What precisely is it?" Cameron shut his trig book, understanding that, for once, Charlie Dalton was being genuine. "I just love the sound," he explained. "Clarinet always sounds so mellow and focused. Also, when I was a kid, these musicians came to my elementary school and performed Peter and the Wolf. At the time,the cat reminded me of my orange cat, Joey, and the clarinet played the music for the cat."
Charlie found himself speechless for a moment. He hadn't expected Cameron to actually have a real and personal reason for liking the clarinet and he was also a bit envious. He had never gotten to see Peter and the Wolf as a kid.
"Was Peter and the Wolf good?" Charlie asked. It seemed like such a childish question, but he had to know. "Well." Cameron was trying to form a response. "Well, it doesn't have a saxophone. But it's good." "Oh." That was all Charlie could say. In reality, he was making a mental note to see Peter and the Wolf as soon as possible. If it made such an impact on Cameron, Charlie thought, then I have clearly been deprived.
Cameron was still reminiscing. "I asked my parents if I could learn clarinet after Peter and the Wolf, you know. They told me it was a waste of time and money. I was eight, so that was that, of course, and now it's too late."
Charlie smirked. Here it was: his moment. "It isn't too late. I have a clarinet you know, and I never play it. It's a really good instrument too." Cameron's eyes practically lit up. "Are you suggesting that I could…?" Charlie nodded. Cameron's happiness shocked him, and for a moment, he felt guilty. It seemed cruel to crush Cameron's hopes and dreams by showing him what a pain in the ass the clarinet could be. I'd hurt Cameron just as much now if I told him no though, thought Charlie. He was resolved in his decision. "Yes, Cameron. I am suggesting that you could learn to play my clarinet. I can get it out now and show you a few things, if you would like."
Cameron could barely form words, as he was under the impression that Charlie Dalton was actually being nice to him. He could only manage a jerky nod.
"So," Charlie began. "This is how you put the clarinet together. First, you want a reed, and you put the reed in your mouth. Dry reeds sound shitty. So." He handed a reed to Cameron, who held it for a moment and then asked, "Is there…mold on this?" "That isn't mold," Charlie reassured him. "The color of the wood is just slightly different." "Are you sure about that?" Cameron examined the reed further. "These little black spots really look like…." "Just put the damn reed in your mouth!" Charlie practically shouted. "And don't suck on it. Just wet it." Cameron was still staring at what he thought was mold, (it was) but he eventually wet the reed.
Charlie put the instrument together, and he put cork grease on all the corks. "I haven't played in months, "he explained, "and if I don't do this, the pieces will get stuck together."
After the clarinet was assembled, Charlie took the reed from Cameron and put it on the mouthpiece.
"Can I…?" Cameron was brimming with excitement. Charlie handed the instrument to him. "First thing's first," Charlie said. "Embouchure." "Emb…what?" Cameron had no clue what that meant. In his mind, it was an unusual occurrence that Charlie knew something he did not. "It's the shape you have to make with your mouth," Charlie explained. "On the clarinet, it's kind of like a whistle, or like saying the letter Q. Try that, then put the clarinet in your mouth and try to blow an open g with no fingers down."
Cameron did as he was told and the clarinet let out an atrocious and resounding EEEEP! Appalled, Cameron took the instrument out of his mouth and stared at it. "What…what in the world was…are you sure this instrument works properly, Charlie?" "Absolutely positive," Charlie answered. "Just try the same thing again." Cameron did, and the instrument still responded dreadfully. "Your tongue position is probably incorrect," Charlie told him. "Tongue…position?" Cameron was both confused and slightly disgusted by the terminology. He knew where Charlie got all of his dirty jokes now.
Thump! Thump! Charlie and Cameron looked at each other. Someone was knocking on the door. Charlie opened it to reveal a stern and disapproving Dr. Hager. "What in the devil are you boys doing in here?" he asked.
Cameron stepped forward. "I was learning how to play the clarinet, sir," he said. "It keeps squeaking though." "Well, Mr. Cameron," said Dr. Hager. "I'm sorry to tell you that I do not want to hear any more dying cat noises in my hall. Demerits and detention, Mr. Cameron." Hager then shut the door and walked off.
"Dying…cat?" That was all Cameron could say. Charlie thought he would be more hurt by the demerits and the detention. Clearly that was not the case. Then Charlie understood. "You wanted to play clarinet because of the cat."
Cameron just stood in disappointed silence, and Charlie realized that, for once, he actually felt a bit bad for the guy. "I thought it sounded like John Cage," Charlie told him, "and I happen to think John Cage is brilliant." "Who?" Charlie's bizarre knowledge of music still baffled Cameron. "John Cage," Charlie said. "He's a living composer who experiments with and extends the bounds of what music is. That's where I got the inspiration for my saxophone poetry."
"Well, all I wanted was to play the clarinet," Cameron snapped. "Clearly, I can't." Cameron disassembled the instrument in frustration, practically jerking the pieces apart. Charlie protested. "You only blew into it twice. You can play it another time if you want." "I think I'll pass," Cameron said, as he sat back down at his desk. "I already killed the cat." He reopened his trig book. "Forget the clarinet. Even trig is easier to understand than that thing."
Charlie sighed. Having Cameron play the clarinet was just supposed to be a silly joke. Now, the red headed boy felt like his dream was crushed. Charlie could hardly bear to stay in the room, so he left, figuring he would go have a smoke with Knox or Neil to cheer himself up. However, before he left the room he said, "I hated the clarinet. But trust me, it still beats Trigonometry." In that second, Richard Cameron stole one last, longing look at the clarinet case.
Fin