"Mom, I want to see the New York Philharmonic today! Did you book a ticket for me?"
Gary heard his mother from downstairs said something. "What, mom? I can't hear you!"
"I said," his mother repeated, now standing outside of his room, "I did. Go there and give them your IC number."
"Thanks!"
His mother stared warily at him. "Don't be doing stupid things."
"You know I won't," he said, changing his clothes. Gary was big, like his father, but what happened two weeks ago - two weeks and three days, she added - was still in her mind. "I'll stay over at Midtons' tonight, mom."
She quickly said no. "I don't want you to go with that Midton boy anymore, Gary!"
"Mom!"
"No!"
"Aw, mom, you're not cool."
"Cool!" She was very angry. "Cool? Is it cool going out late at night, hanging out at God knows where? Smoking weed? That Midton boy is nothing but trouble! Look what happened to you!"
"Mom, that was a mistake," Gary weakly said.
"A mistake!" She covered her lips briefly with her palm, trying to think. Her face was a turbulent battlefield of emotions. "Baking a cake without the baking powder is considered a mistake, Gary. Turning at the wrong junction is a mistake. Taking a LIFE is NOT A MISTAKE!"
She practically screamed at him. "Mom," Gary said with an ignorant tone, "we never made her jump in front of a train."
Her reflexes were much, much faster than her thoughts, and a few seconds later Gary was gingerly touching his cheek that had begun to redden slightly. She didn't say sorry because she had wanted to do this since the trial had ended but didn't have the heart to do it. Now she did, she didn't know what to feel.
Gary stared at her for a few more seconds, then left without a word. She was reduced to tears when her husband returned from work two hours later.
The programme for today was rather exciting. Saint-Saëns's Symphony No. 3 'Organ' (Gary always gleefully snickered at the thought of the double meaning) and right now the orchestra was playing the beginning of the final movement. The loud strains of the organ filled the orchestra hall.
He stared around him. It seemed that other seats were full, but around him the seats were empty. He wondered about that briefly before the orchestra drowned the doubts.
When the orchestra suddenly joined the organ in forte fortissimo Gary sensed someone behind him. Probably the person had been to the toilet. Again that unison in gloriously loud strains before everything became hushed. Then there was a rising, suspenseful climax greeted by brilliant horns and trumpets and strings, punctuated by the timpani.
The organ again entered and another hush followed, before a lonely flute started the whole machinery going smoothly that later faded into the background, and soon the same suspenseful rising of strings and woodwinds and brass returned, like a rising massive creature.
"Exciting isn't it?" said a hushed voice behind him. Gary quickly shushed the man.
"Yes, it is. Sometimes it is more exciting than, say, raping a helpless girl of nineteen and getting away with it."
Gary froze in his seat. Before he could say anything a thick cord was slipped around his neck and it was tightened quickly. The music drumming in his ears and the cord around his neck made everything feel like dreamlike. But the choking sensation was real, and he tried to struggle. It was useless.
And the glorious strains of the orchestra cum the organ drowned his choking sounds.
"How's this for a glorious end, Gary?" the voice whispered in his ears. The hands tightened the cord even more around his neck, and Gary could feel his eyes bulge out.
Gary could only watch the precise conductor and the members of the orchestra finished the symphony with a long note from the organ. When everyone rose for a standing ovation, Gary was long dead.
"Hello?"
"Warren!" It was Logan.
"Hey, thought you'd never called!"
"I have to. Where the hell are you?"
"Oh, man, I have to relax a bit." He stared around him. "I got to get away. I have too much in my head. Need to wash it out of my system."
"Let me guess. You're in Bahamas with three women around you."
Warren laughed. It rang out hollow and emotionless. "I don't do that all the time, Logan. But maybe I would. Hey, I have to go. Bye."
He didn't even give Logan a chance to say his goodbye to him.
Warren stared at the table. It was replete with papers. Bits of it stuck here and there until it looked like a messy papier-le-mache of a table. He nodded to himself.
He reached for a bottle of champagne on ice and popped it open. Poured a glass for two. One glass he put it beside a frame, the other he held in his fingers.
"To you, brown-eyed, girl," he said. He drank it all.
__________________
Gary heard his mother from downstairs said something. "What, mom? I can't hear you!"
"I said," his mother repeated, now standing outside of his room, "I did. Go there and give them your IC number."
"Thanks!"
His mother stared warily at him. "Don't be doing stupid things."
"You know I won't," he said, changing his clothes. Gary was big, like his father, but what happened two weeks ago - two weeks and three days, she added - was still in her mind. "I'll stay over at Midtons' tonight, mom."
She quickly said no. "I don't want you to go with that Midton boy anymore, Gary!"
"Mom!"
"No!"
"Aw, mom, you're not cool."
"Cool!" She was very angry. "Cool? Is it cool going out late at night, hanging out at God knows where? Smoking weed? That Midton boy is nothing but trouble! Look what happened to you!"
"Mom, that was a mistake," Gary weakly said.
"A mistake!" She covered her lips briefly with her palm, trying to think. Her face was a turbulent battlefield of emotions. "Baking a cake without the baking powder is considered a mistake, Gary. Turning at the wrong junction is a mistake. Taking a LIFE is NOT A MISTAKE!"
She practically screamed at him. "Mom," Gary said with an ignorant tone, "we never made her jump in front of a train."
Her reflexes were much, much faster than her thoughts, and a few seconds later Gary was gingerly touching his cheek that had begun to redden slightly. She didn't say sorry because she had wanted to do this since the trial had ended but didn't have the heart to do it. Now she did, she didn't know what to feel.
Gary stared at her for a few more seconds, then left without a word. She was reduced to tears when her husband returned from work two hours later.
The programme for today was rather exciting. Saint-Saëns's Symphony No. 3 'Organ' (Gary always gleefully snickered at the thought of the double meaning) and right now the orchestra was playing the beginning of the final movement. The loud strains of the organ filled the orchestra hall.
He stared around him. It seemed that other seats were full, but around him the seats were empty. He wondered about that briefly before the orchestra drowned the doubts.
When the orchestra suddenly joined the organ in forte fortissimo Gary sensed someone behind him. Probably the person had been to the toilet. Again that unison in gloriously loud strains before everything became hushed. Then there was a rising, suspenseful climax greeted by brilliant horns and trumpets and strings, punctuated by the timpani.
The organ again entered and another hush followed, before a lonely flute started the whole machinery going smoothly that later faded into the background, and soon the same suspenseful rising of strings and woodwinds and brass returned, like a rising massive creature.
"Exciting isn't it?" said a hushed voice behind him. Gary quickly shushed the man.
"Yes, it is. Sometimes it is more exciting than, say, raping a helpless girl of nineteen and getting away with it."
Gary froze in his seat. Before he could say anything a thick cord was slipped around his neck and it was tightened quickly. The music drumming in his ears and the cord around his neck made everything feel like dreamlike. But the choking sensation was real, and he tried to struggle. It was useless.
And the glorious strains of the orchestra cum the organ drowned his choking sounds.
"How's this for a glorious end, Gary?" the voice whispered in his ears. The hands tightened the cord even more around his neck, and Gary could feel his eyes bulge out.
Gary could only watch the precise conductor and the members of the orchestra finished the symphony with a long note from the organ. When everyone rose for a standing ovation, Gary was long dead.
"Hello?"
"Warren!" It was Logan.
"Hey, thought you'd never called!"
"I have to. Where the hell are you?"
"Oh, man, I have to relax a bit." He stared around him. "I got to get away. I have too much in my head. Need to wash it out of my system."
"Let me guess. You're in Bahamas with three women around you."
Warren laughed. It rang out hollow and emotionless. "I don't do that all the time, Logan. But maybe I would. Hey, I have to go. Bye."
He didn't even give Logan a chance to say his goodbye to him.
Warren stared at the table. It was replete with papers. Bits of it stuck here and there until it looked like a messy papier-le-mache of a table. He nodded to himself.
He reached for a bottle of champagne on ice and popped it open. Poured a glass for two. One glass he put it beside a frame, the other he held in his fingers.
"To you, brown-eyed, girl," he said. He drank it all.
__________________