13. John and Gordon – Orchestra
Virgil wasn't the only musical one in the family. It was just that he was better than everyone else. It was the same way that they were all strong swimmers, but Gordon was head and shoulders above them – metaphorically, if not literally.
Their mother had encouraged all of them to try their hands at many different things. Scott and John had been the only ones to stick with the Boy Scouts. All the discipline and rules and badge work did not appeal to Gordon – and in any case, his competitive swimming career had taken over everything, even in elementary school.
Alan had been the one to get into mountain biking in a big way, though they all rode from time to time (usually when Alan needed a chaperone and no one could ever say no to those big blues).
Virgil had been the most musically accomplished of them all, playing piano and guitar and violin, and was also the only one who could write his own music. But the others dabbled. Gordon and Scott were proficient on the guitar, and it had been a long three years of Alan learning the tuba – the tuba, of all things.
John played two instruments – two very different instruments: the drums and the harp. And quite how that happened, Gordon didn't know.
But happen it did, and sometimes, when the moon was high and John was home, the two would play together – quite accidently and yet quite beautifully.
Complement. It was the best word to describe them. Different and yet the same. Opposite and yet a perfect fit.
Gordon led the tune, his tanned hands guiding the song. And John would float in on the harp, those impossibly nimble fingers dancing circles of melody around Gordon's notes.
Together they would have the tiniest orchestra, a duet of beauty. No words were ever spoken.
There was simply no need.