Young Writers Society

The Gift

For once in over six months, Harmony woke up smiling. His feet were warm, tucked away under two blankets. The bed felt soft against his back, so much more comfortable than a sheet of old cardboard. And his eyes opened to a calm white ceiling, rather than harsh morning sunlight.

He lay still on the mattress for several more minutes, as if when he finally got up it would be lost to him forever. After some time, he lifted the covers and got to his feet. There was a small nightstand next to the bed with a lamp and a telephone. In an opposite corner sat an armchair, where Harmony had tossed his jacket when he had walked in. By the door, a stove and a refrigerator shared a small kitchen space, across from a modest bathroom.

The apartment was not opulent, certainly not the sort of place he imagined Bruce to live in, but to him it could have been a nobleman’s castle. He sighed, all this was his home now.

A sudden ringing interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head and reached over for the telephone. “Hello?”

“Flash,” the familiar voice on the other end greeted him.

Harmony laughed to himself. “Thunder. Good morning Bruce.”

“Good morning Harmony! How’s the apartment, you find everything okay?” Bruce asked.

“Yes, everything is in good order here,” he responded. “Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“Well don’t go and start destroying the place, you’re there as a service to me remember, hah. Has Virgil called you yet?”

Harmony wiped his eyes with his free hand. “No, I haven’t heard from him yet.”

“Well I gave him the number for the apartment so he could reach you. He told me that he would be needing you again today,” Bruce explained. “Once you’re finished with him, join up with me back at the apartment, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Okay, I’ll wait to hear from him,” Harmony said.

“Oh, there should be a suit in the closet there, go on and wear it to work. You’ve got to dress for the life you want, right? Hah, see you this afternoon!” With that, the line went quiet.

Harmony hung up the phone and proceeded to the bathroom. There was plenty of soap in the shower, and plenty of hot water, both of which were luxuries that held him in awe. After several minutes under the steaming waterfall, he dried himself off and went to check the closet. Bruce was right, there was a three-piece suit hanging up, along with a few other clothes.

It was the first time Harmony had ever worn a suit before, and he was surprised to find that it fit him. Certainly not a tailored fit, but he was able to move about freely with reasonable comfort. The starchy feeling of the shirt would take some getting used to though. He checked himself over in the mirror against the wall, and he liked the look of nice clothes on him.

The telephone rang again as he stood admiring his reflection, and he walked over to the desk to pick it up. “Hello?”

“Hey kid, it’s Virgil, you ready to work?”

“Yeah, all set!”

“Good, get on over here on the double, you have deliveries to make!” Virgil hung up.

Harmony laid the receiver on the cradle and started for the door. As he was about to reach for the doorknob, he stopped. Turning on a heel, he walked over to the armchair and felt inside the pocket of the field coat. He took out the harmonica and tucked it away inside the pocket of his suit jacket as he left the apartment. It made him feel better having it close. After all, the little instrument did have a history now.

~~~

“So how’d the delivering go today?” Bruce asked.

“Good, it was a good day.” Harmony and Bruce sat in the back of a taxi, which Bruce had directed to West 17th. They were going to the meeting appointment they had discussed on the phone earlier that morning. “I rode with the truck, and I had two deliveries to make.”

“Well Virgil has only good things to say about you thus far, hah. I think he’s happy that he got you before someone else did.”

“Bruce, I was wondering something, and maybe you could tell me. Why does Virgil have me make certain deliveries instead of the other workers?” Harmony asked. “Is there a reason I need to be the one to give certain packages away?”

“It’s more a matter of principle than anything else,” Bruce replied. “Gallo Imports has a list of important regular clients, and Virgil likes to show his appreciation for their loyalty by having his personal assistant administer their sales. It’s good for business.”

Harmony nodded. “I see. He wants to put his best foot forward.”

“That’s right. They also purchase expensive goods that he doesn’t trust any of his regular workers with, hah. So he only wants a person who reports directly to him to deliver them.

In another few moments, the taxi slowed to a halt in front of an apartment building. Bruce paid the fare, and the two stepped out onto the sidewalk. “I think you’re really going to like this guy, Harmony.”

“Who is this friend of yours?” Harmony asked.

“Someone who I think you will get along quite well with, hah.” Bruce opened the door and made his way across the lobby to the front desk. “We’re here to see Mark,” he said to the attendant.

“Ah yes, Mr. Pikerson! He’s been expecting you, go on up, I’ll call to let him know.” The attendant nodded, and Bruce beckoned for Harmony to follow him.

It was a short climb up the carpeted stairway to the third floor. Bruce walked the length of the narrow hallway and knocked on the door at the very end. A voice called from inside. “Come on in! It’s open!”

Harmony stepped inside behind Bruce to an intimate sitting room. A man sat in a fine armchair facing the door, one leg crossed over the other. From the neatly combed hair to the pressed socks, he was perfectly clean and well-kept despite his casual shirt-and-pants dress. He looked younger than Bruce, but older than Harmony himself.

“Harmony, I’d like to introduce you to Mark Ayers,” Bruce said, holding out his hand in Mark’s direction. “Mark, this is Harmony Holmes, the boy I was telling you about.”

“Harmony! Now that’s a name, hah! Nice to meet you son,” Mark said as he shook Harmony’s hand. His handshake was a friendly and energetic one, but did not quite match the charisma of Bruce’s.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Mr. Ayers sir,” Harmony replied.

Mark laughed as he returned the greeting. “You were right Bruce, he is a regular little private! Sir’s for soldiers and waiters my boy, we use first names among friends.”

Harmony smiled, Mark’s good humor put him at ease. “Bruce told me you were someone I had to meet.”

“Hoped he would! After hearing the story, I had to see for myself,” Mark said. “Please, sit down, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured toward the sofa against the left wall.

Harmony and Bruce both took seats. The cushions were the perfect medium of firm and soft. Bruce reclined and rested an ankle on his knee. “Mark and I were in basic training together at Fort Bragg,” he said.

“Were indeed,” Mark said. “Finest marksman you’ve ever seen right there.” He pointed to Bruce, who rolled his eyes and dismissively waved his hand.

“Oh, I was nothing special,” Bruce chuckled.

“You’re full of shit! He was the best in our training group,” Mark said to Harmony, “and he wasn’t too dumb either.”

“Just smart enough for a leader, and just dumb enough for a soldier,” Bruce joked.

“Every specialty school in the army wanted him. And wouldn’t you know it, this lunatic went and joined up with the 101.” Mark reached for a steaming mug on the wooden coffee table and took a sip.

“Were you both in the airborne division?” Harmony asked.

“Well, you must be the bigger fool, because I talked you into going along with me, didn’t I?” Bruce raised his eyebrows at Mark.

Mark laughed again. “Yeah, you did. We were both in with the airborne, Harmony, to answer your question. I went a different way though, combat engineer.”

“Ooh. What did you do?” Harmony leaned forward.

“Dig trenches and find mines, hah,” Mark said. “Technical things.” He took another sip from his mug. “But enough of that, I’m sure you all didn’t make the trip over here to talk about old war stories.”

Harmony turned to Bruce. “What exactly did we come out here for? What story did you tell him for that matter?”

“Bruce tells me that you have some music skill?” Mark asked.

“Oh, did he?” Harmony felt his face flush.

“That’s right! You wouldn’t believe this boy on a harmonica, he’s outstanding,” Bruce declared.

“Well how did this come up in conversation?” Harmony looked back and forth between the two men.

“Mark is a musician,” said Bruce.

“And a musician always ends up talking about music sooner or later, hah. So when Bruce here told me that you played, well I had to see for myself,” Mark finished. He got up and took his mug to the kitchen, rinsing it off in the sink. “How ‘bout it Harmony, show me what you can do?”

Harmony shifted his weight back and forth on the sofa, staring down at his feet. It was one thing to play for a friend, where there were no stakes. But for a real musician? He did not even know if he really was any good, or if Bruce was just humoring him.

“Oh, you know what, I am due for an appointment across town!” Bruce opened his pocket watch and leapt to his feet as he saw the time. “Mark, I hate to run so soon, but you know how business is.”

“Well you don’t get to wear suits like that by being late,” Mark teased. “Get out of here, it’s great seeing you.” He shook Bruce’s hand as he made for the door.

“Likewise, we’ll have lunch sometime soon. Harmony, I will see you later. Now you two play nice, and have a lovely afternoon!” With a final wave, Bruce slid around the door and shut it behind him.

Mark leaned against the arm of his chair toward Harmony. “Well, are you going to hold me in suspense? I’d very much like to hear you play.”

Harmony took a deep breath. “Well…if you answer a question for me first, then I can try and play something.”

“Absolutely, what would you like to know?”

“You know Bruce pretty well, what exactly does he do? For work and such.”

Mark scratched his chin for a moment. “There isn’t really a title for what Bruce is,” he finally said. “He’s like a…consultant. But that doesn’t really capture it all. He helps companies plan business strategy, like Gallo Imports. He’s worked with Virgil since we got back to the states. He also connects people. Helps businesses find clients, facilitates deals, that sort of thing. He knows a lot of people, so people come to him a lot.”

“Wow. He must be really influential,” Harmony said.

“You can say that again. Alright, you got your question, now I’d really like to hear that harmonica of yours.” Mark clasped his hands on his lap. “Let’s see that musical skill.”

Harmony nodded, taking his harmonica from an inner pocket. He wiped the brass with his thumb, and caressed the wood tenderly. He placed his lips against the number four hole, and blew through it. Just as before, it played a sweet, beautiful sound. From the first breath, his hands knew what to do. He played a melody as easily as if it had been written in front of him.

With the final note, Harmony lowered the harmonica to his lap. He said nothing, but waited for Mark to speak.

Mark had closed his eyes while Harmony played, and he opened them as the room fell silent again. For what seemed like a very long moment, he sat motionless, with a steady gaze focusing on nothing. Just as Harmony was about to speak, Mark shook his head.

“You don’t have skill.”

Harmony felt an immense weight fall on his shoulders, crushing all the air out of him. He stared down at the harmonica, at his lifeless hands. Of course he had no skill. It was a foolish idea, coming here with this instrument. It would have been better if he had not played, if he never played again. But when he raised his eyes, he saw that Mark was smiling.

“You have a gift,” Mark told him.

In an instant, Harmony felt his heart explode. He had to grip at the edges of his sleeves to keep his fingers from shaking. Every surface of his body felt hot and cold all at once. “I… I…”

“I have not heard someone with so much talent in a long time,” Mark said. “How old are you Harmony?”

It took a moment for Harmony to realize that Mark had addressed him. “Oh, seventeen.”

“Seventeen!” Mark threw up his hands. “And so raw, to be able to play like that with such little experience, it’s... it’s... great God in heaven!” His eyes were alight with glee as if he had just met his first love.

“Th-thank you so much, I’m flattered,” Harmony said, bashfully kneading the floor with his feet. “It’s nice of you to say.”

“If you practice, and hone that gift of yours,” Mark leaned forward, “I think you have the makings of a musician. A real jazz musician.”

“You really think so?”

“In fact-” Mark stood up and disappeared into the bedroom. Harmony could hear him rummaging for something. After a few seconds, he returned holding a black case. He set it down on the floor next to the chair and opened the lid.

“What’s in there?” Harmony asked.

Mark smiled as he lifted out a gorgeous alto saxophone. The brass was polished to a splendid luster. Harmony was awestruck as he looked for his reflection in the surface. Mark stood up and raised the reed to his mouth. He played a scale up and down, and then a short melody, his fingers dancing on the keys with the grace of a master.

Harmony clapped as he finished. Mark took a bow, and then placed the saxophone into Harmony’s hands. “Play that,” he said.

“W-what? You want me to play this?” Harmony shivered as he felt the cool, smooth metal against his hands.

“You heard me. I know you were watching closely, now play it.”

Harmony looked down. Very carefully, he laid his fingers on the keys, just as he had seen Mark do. He depressed each one, then two at a time, feeling the different positions. There was no way to tell where to start, these were not numbered holes.

“What do you want me to play?” Harmony asked.

Mark lowered himself into his chair and leaned back. “Play whatever you feel.”

Harmony swallowed and placed his lips around the reed, the way Mark had. He blew into the mouthpiece, and the saxophone produced a clear, even note. He immediately looked over to Mark for a sign of approval.

“You’re one of the only people I’ve seen get that right on the first try,” he said.

Encouraged, Harmony blew again, the same note. He tried several different key positions, each one producing a different sound. It took only a moment for him to hear all the sounds Mark had played, and then his hands took over.

Slowly, Harmony began to play a melody. The music followed the lead of the keys, one after the other. He played the notes as they came to him, just like on the harmonica. But this was different as much as it was the same. Stronger, fuller, more romantic. This was what Mark was talking about. He could feel it. This was jazz.

Harmony relaxed his shoulders after the final note, letting the saxophone lie still in his lap. He shifted back and forth on the sofa as he waited for Mark to say something.

Mark was staring at him, his mouth hanging open, even his breath seemed to have slowed to a halt. Life returned to him suddenly as he raised a hand to his chin. “Wow… my god…” He sprang up from his chair. “You are amazing!”

“That was good?” Harmony asked.

“Well, your breath intervals are a little clumsy, and your fingerings need refining, but you are a natural!” Mark grabbed his shoulders and shook them. “Harmony, you were made for this!”

“I-I had never thought of myself in that way…” Harmony sighed.

Mark took the saxophone and carefully returned it to the case, leaving the lid open. He sat down on the sofa next to Harmony. “Well don’t start, you’re not there yet. What you need is training. You need a teacher to help forge you into a real musician.”

“Would you teach me Mark?” Harmony blinked as soon as he heard himself. Once more, his mouth had moved faster than his mind. “I-I-I mean, if you...”

Mark laughed and clapped his hands together. “I’ve never been a teacher, but MacArthur wasn’t always a general, right?” He nudged Harmony’s elbow. “You have an instrument?”

“Erm, no, I guess I don’t. Only the harmonica. D-do you know where I can get one?”

“Well, I suppose I’m your teacher now. And as a lover of music, it would be absolutely criminal of me to deny a promising young talent to the world…” Mark nodded to the open case on the floor. “I tell you what. I’ll sell you that one right there. One hundred.”

Harmony hastened to his feet. “Really? You would do that for me? Th-thank you! Thank you so much!” He shook Mark’s hand vigorously. “Is it okay if I give you the money later?”

Mark went over and lowered the lid of the black box, clicking the latches into place. “It’ll be here for you,” he said.

“Okay, thank you again! I promise I’ll be back soon!”

“I look forward to it, hah!” Mark smiled as they shook hands again.

Harmony almost tripped as he rushed out of the apartment. He kept running, only stopping to breathe when his feet his the sidewalk outside. He swung his head to both sides, looking for a payphone, which he saw a few yards away.

He walked over to it and picked up the receiver. He dropped a coin into the slot and hastily dialed a number. Two rings, a click, and the voice came through.

“Gallo Imports, what can I do for you?”

“Virgil, it’s Harmony. I have… there’s a… I need a job. A hundred dollars.”

“A hundred? I haven’t given you that much for a job yet, you’ve barely worked for any kind of time,” Virgil said. He was silent for a long moment before his voice drifted through the phone again. “You have a plan, don’t you?”

Harmony nodded, though he knew it would not be seen. “Yes. I do. And I need it.”

Virgil chuckled. “So you’re finally doing something with yourself then. Well, I think I might have something…”