Chapter Nine
And Then I Heard Her Play
(The Last Finale)
They quickly grabbed Rachel's uniform and piccolo, and hurried out the door. To their pleasant surprise, a line of taxis was waiting patiently outside the airport like lions stalking their prey. They ran to the closest car, without any thought as to the cost, or the fact that they had almost no money left. All that was on their mind was the little window of time they had to reach the stadium.
The driver opened the door, and they hopped in. They asked him if he knew where the Fiesta Bowl was taking place, and he said he had no idea. They told him to take them to the largest stadium in the city, and to go as fast as possible. He seemed to understand. They pulled out of the airport, turning corners a little too fast for comfort, but the nervous feeling in their stomachs urged them on.
"What time is it?" Chris said.
"Ten to Eleven." Cat said. She turned to the driver. "How long will it take to get there?"
"Forty five minutes without traffic," he yelled over his shoulder. He wasn't what Chris would picture a normal taxi driver to be. He was bald, and by the look of his clothes, he was colorblind. He wore a white and orange stripped shirt, with a crooked baseball cap covering only half of his head. The dice tugged on his rear view mirror, pulling and pushing with the motion of the car. He wondered what kind of person he was. They were going to have to depend on his sympathy. Chris wished he brought up the fact that they didn't have any money before they left the airport, but it was too late for that. And even if he did, the driver would only refuse to take them anywhere. He hated to admit it, but lying was the only way. And he would do what he had to do.
They drove for half an hour without problems. After the airport, they immediately pulled into the freeway. They took an exit leading to downtown Phoenix. The buildings were taller than the ones back at home. He had never seen anything like it. As they rolled down the exit, Chris caught a glimpse of it. The large complex, jutting out of the ground. That's where they were headed. He could finally see it. They were finally here.
Before he could alert the others, the car suddenly came to a halt. When they looked out the window, a long line of cars greeted them. The road was jammed, and traffic slowed to a complete stop. They had five minutes left.
"What are we gonna do?" Cat said. Anger was enveloping her voice. "We've come too far to be stopped by goddamn traffic."
"There's nothing we can do." Chris said.
She tapped her fingers rapidly on the window. "I'm jumping out of this car and running for the stadium."
"There's no use," he said. He ran his fingers through his hair. They caught in a tangle. He didn't flinch with the pain. His stomach felt sick. He realized this was the end of their joyous escapade. He didn't think it would end this soon. In truth, he wished it would never have to end. But here it was, the quick, abrupt, and powerless end. "We'll never make it by foot. By the time you get there, it'll be over." His eyes were getting itchy. He wiped his hands on the seat and rubbed them. It wouldn't stop. Cat buried her eyes in frustration. She hadn't given up. She really would run. Rachel hadn't said a word. She just stared out at the traffic, mesmerized. She looked as if she had just been broken in half.
Chris caught the driver's eyes looking at them through the rear view mirror. The eyes suddenly narrowed. "It's your lucky day it seems." he said. "You climbed onto the right taxi."
"What do you mean?" Chris said.
"I have a proposition." He adjusted the mirror to take a better look. His eyes landed directly on Chris. "I can get you there on time, under a few conditions." He smiled a crooked smile. "One: you tell me the minute you see a cop. Two: I want a little extra bonus added on the usual fare, and I need it upfront." The air outside sizzled under the humid sun, penetrated with the sound of a hundred car horns.
"Do it." Rachel said. She had ripped her eyes away from the window. "We'll pay you anything. Just do it."
"Now." the driver said. "I'm not gonna risk my ass just for good karma. I want it upfront. Five hundred dollars."
They had three minutes left. Time was ticking away. Chris pleaded with the driver, with no resolve, and Cat nervously rapped her fingers on the doorknob, bouncing her legs on the ball of her feet. Rachel stared at her. She was ready to run. The last attempt to get to the stadium. A futile effort. Rachel was sure that Cat realized it. But she was sure that Cat would do it anyway. They had two minutes left. Cat opened the door.
"Here." Rachel pulled her piccolo from under her arm. "This'll go for a thousand at least." She threw it at the driver and stared as he inspected it. "Drive," she said. It was the commanding voice Chris had remembered. The voice that had every flute dangling on her leash.
"What are you -" The sound of screeching tires cut off Cat's voice. The door she had opened slammed shut. All three fell back into their seats. The car took a quick right, and climbed onto the sidewalk. It took the nearest side road, and raced down the empty residential street. The tires screamed as they hugged the corners. The driver didn't bother with stop signs; they just became flashes of red as they went. The driver had done this before. Chris could tell he knew his way around the small streets. In a minute, they were coming up around the stadium through the back, over another sidewalk and a stretch of grass. They cut through the parking lot, dodging the parked cars and buses. The brakes screeched at the entrance, almost drowning out the announcer. Jordan high school was taking the field.
Cat stared in disbelief at Rachel. "You can't do this." Rachel pushed her out of the car, and shut the door. "We came all this way. You have to play. Get your piccolo back," she pleaded. Rachel just rushed her into the stadium never looking back. Cat fought back every step of the way. They heard a door shut. Cat gave one last push, strong enough to see the taxi heading across the parking lot. She forced herself free, and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Get back here, you goddamn bastard!" The car turned a corner, and its tires let out a finale screech. She let her hands fall to her sides. The piccolo was gone, along with the forgotten uniform. The crowed inside the stadium cheered. The announcer's voice rambled on the list of names, and a drum cadence broke out as the band took the field. Cat grabbed Rachel by the shoulder, shaking her with all her strength.
"How could you?" she screamed. "We did this for you. It was all for you." She wiped the tears from her eyes. Even over the pounding drums, Cat's voice was loud and clear. It seemed to echo under the stands. "There's still time." She was breathless. "You can use my flute. You take my place. Use my uniform." She sank her fingers into Rachel's shoulders. "It's my turn, Rachel. I'm gonna make it up to you. For all the times I've pushed you away. This is it. This is my apology. You sacrificed the trip for me. Now I want you to have it back."
"Sam, I can't." Rachel curled up in Cat's grip. Her voice was twice as soft, almost buried under the shuffling of the crowd. "I can't let you punish yourself like this."
"Stop kidding yourself." Cat yelled. Rachel jumped in her trembling hands. Her shoulders were already hurting. "I know, Rachel. I know. You were in the wagon, that goddamn wagon, and you couldn't steer it. I know why you were so quick to forgive me. You blamed yourself, didn't you?" Rachel crumbled into pieces. "She's up there, remember, Rachel? She told us not to blame ourselves."
Rachel opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was incomprehensible stuttering. Any sense the words could've carried was lost in thunderous applause.
"I won't let you punish yourself either, Rachel." Cat held Rachel's face in her hands and pulled it closer. "Listen to me. You're going out there, okay. You're gonna play that show and you're gonna be great. You're gonna do it for me. You're gonna -"
"Drum majors, are you ready?" The voice of the announcer broke in. They had less than a few seconds. Chris stared at the girls as the gashed each other's wounds, helpless and horror stricken. He lowered his head. He couldn't stand looking at them anymore. They were cutting each other open, gutting each other right in front of his eyes, while the clock slipped slowly away.
"You're her brother now." Rachel's voice pounded in his head. He shut his eyes tight, and rubbed them. His head wanted to explode. He finally knew what it meant. He finally understood what it was to be family. He held a clear memory of Rachel pacing the center of the flute circle, walking up and down her line. She stopped in front of him, and stared, checking his posture and instrument angle. She was nothing but her cold, calculated self. To his left and right the line of flutes stretched over the Jordan high school parking lot, and above the sun hammered mercilessly at their skin cells.
"Is this what brother means?" he said.
"Yes. Family means you get front row center," she said, adjusting his shoulders. She never blinked. "You get a free pass to all the deepest, darkest secretes."
"I didn't ask for this." He lowered his head, but she immediately pulled up on his chin, and lifted his piccolo into a perfect parallel with the ground.
"Of course you did." She said. "You stuck around. It's your prize for persistence."
"What the hell kinda prize is this?" he said. She made sure his heels and toes were touching, sliding them carefully together.
"Truth." she said. "And trust." She stopped fixing his posture and looked him in the eye for the first time. "And with it, responsibility." She pecked him on the cheek and moved on down the line without another word.
Before Cat could continue, Chris pulled her off into the stadium. He pulled them both by the arm, and they broke into a near sprint. Rachel stumbled on her feet, and Cat almost tripped face down on the floor. A little off in the distance they could see the buses. The bus driver sat in his seat, eating a sandwich.
The crowed behind them erupted. The drum major salute was over, and they ran to their podiums. "The Jordan high school marching band may now take the field for competition." The announcement echoed through the speakers, and the crowd went silent. Their seconds were counted.
Chris pulled them to the bus, and pounded on the door. The driver reluctantly opened. Chris turned on the two girls. "Sam, your uniform is too small for Rachel. You're gonna go in there and find mine. You got less than two seconds to change. Find my piccolo." He pushed them both in before either could object, pulled the bus driver out of his seat, and got him to open the storage compartments. Chris went for the plumes and in a few seconds, the girls jumped out of the bus, zipping up their jackets. Chris hurriedly stuck the feathers in their hats, as they straightened each other's chords. Chris pushed them off towards the field.
"Run." he yelled, when they looked back. "Hurry up and run." They hesitated for a second, then turned around and sprinted for the field. He crossed his fingers. The drum major's hands went up, along with two hundred instruments ready to play.
"Run." Chris screamed. The girls rushed across the grass.
"Run." The drum major gave the first beat as they jumped over the fence.
"Run." The second beat as they hit the clay track.
"Run." Third. They busted through a gate.
"Run!" Fourth. They ran for the edge of the field.
"Run! Goddamn it! Run!"
The drum major's hands froze. Every thing stopped as two breathless girls burst onto the field. They quickly ran to their holes, and set their instruments up, ready to play. The crowd stared quiet, and the announcer for once had nothing to say. The girls didn't move a muscle. Neither of them even blinked. They simply waited for the drum major to count off again. Eventually he struck the downbeat, and the field erupted. The two sisters played as tears blurred their eyes.
Chris climbed up to the stands to watch the performance. He stood on the top bench, the pinnacle of the mountain, looking over his two sisters.
They were his pieces of truth. His flawed, passionate, imperfect sisters. He had learned the truth. He watched as they forced his eyes open, sat him at the center of their world, and played their list of miseries. He understood now the responsibility. He was their brother. He loved them for all their flaws, and as time flows and things pass, at least he'll always have that. This life was over. It was the fine chocolate melting in his mouth. The smell of Rachel's hair, her tears, Cat's amusing drool, it would all wash out in the laundry. But he would savor it while he had the chance. And when the time came, he would move on.
He watched the performance for the first time without himself in it. The notes painted pictures across his mind, tugging at memories, making new ones, filling out every crevice of longing, regret, pride, and love until it popped like a bubble and soaked into his brain; every ounce of sacrificed sweat returning home. He shuddered. The judges announced they were moving on to finals. The band filed on to a nearby baseball field, and split up into sections. Chris was happy to see the flutes gather around Rachel again. When everyone settled, she handed the section to him, asking him to say a few words. The lights above the baseball diamond poured through his eyelids, as he paced around the center and they all stared at him with expecting faces. He simply sat down amongst them, and said congratulations.
When the director voice shot through his megaphone, the flutes all stood up at attention. Chris found himself amongst a forest of legs, as he sat quietly on the ground, contemplating. The band gathered into a line, slowly shuffling past. When the circle had gone, only two others remained. Rachel sat crossed leg on the grass, watching her flutes walk away. Cat stood over her. The wind carried the mingled nonsense of the crowd.
"You have four years ahead of you." Rachel said. "You have no idea how much I envy you." She looked up at Cat, towering under the lights. She was nothing more than a silhouette. "You know, I've never seen our show in the stands how it's meant to be seen."
Cat looked at them. They were like the old, asking to die in peace, pulling the tube for a chance to relish in their memories. She bent down, and wrapped her arms around them. They pushed her toward anxious crowd, and she turned around reluctantly. After a few minutes, she disappeared into the night, just like the band before her.
"This really is the end for us, isn't it?" Rachel said. He nodded his head.
They both walked back to the field, and climbed the stands. She wanted to see the show from high up, so he took her to the last bench. The wind had picked up, and the night air burned cold. They huddled up for warmth, as they sat down. She was still wearing his uniform. When the band came onto the field, they moved closer, and squeezed each other's hands tighter. For some reason, they felt colder. But Rachel still took off the band jacket, and folded it carefully.
The End