Love Turns the Page

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

AS HE DROVE OUT of the church parking lot and headed back for what would be his last mostly sleepless night in his miserable little apartment, Noah wondered idly what he’d gotten himself into. It doesn’t matter, he thought. Whatever it is, having Tom for a roommate couldn’t possibly be any worse than my current situation—anything would be an improvement. He put in his eight hours the next day and drove home as quickly as possible. By four, he had his old car nearly full of clothing and personal items. Tom drove up just as he was carrying the last load his car would hold out of the apartment. Within thirty minutes, they had everything else he owned stowed in Tom’s Volvo. Noah drove away without even bothering to leave a note for the asshole. I’ll confront him Monday, but I’m not going to let that jerk spoil my weekend.

At Tom’s house, they unloaded both cars, and Tom left him to the task of setting up his room to his liking. He’d just gotten all of his belongings where he wanted them, when he began to smell some interesting odors. He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Tom was stirring something on the stove. “Smells good,” he said. “What is it?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs. Simple, basic, and cheap.”

“Works for me.”

“Get everything put away to your satisfaction?”

“You bet.”

“Good,” Tom said. “Then put everything out of your mind and focus on tomorrow.”

“Is tomorrow your first concert?” Noah said.

“I’ve put on concerts in various churches around town and at the college, but this will be my first appearance in a major concert hall.”

“You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

“One can only hope. How about setting the table?”

“Sure. Just point me at the dishes and silverware.”

“Cupboard to the right of the sink, drawer under the counter beneath the cupboard.”

“Is that garlic bread I smell?”

“Yes, but I cannot tell a lie. It’s frozen, from Publix.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Set a wineglass out for me,” Tom said, “and one for yourself, if you like.”

“Okay.”

Later, over their meal, Tom said, “Food to your liking?”

“Oh yeah.”

“What about the wine?”

“It’s good, but I don’t know much about wine.”

“This one isn’t anything special, it’s an inexpensive Chianti from Italy. The sort of thing that ordinary Italians drink every day of their lives.”

“I’ve had wine before, but nothing as nice as this.”

“Not at your parents’ house, I should think.”

“God, no,” Noah said, “never there. My maternal grandparents aren’t Baptists, and they let me have a small glass of wine once in a while.”

“That’s good, but I think we need to limit you to just two glasses this evening.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not accustomed to having wine, we have a rehearsal tomorrow morning at ten, and I want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“Why so early?”

“Because we have to fit into the schedule of the folks at the hall and because we need time to rest between the rehearsal and tomorrow night’s performance.”

“Fine,” Noah said, stifling a yawn. “I was up pretty early this morning, and I’m looking forward to sleeping at least ten hours.”

“Great. What do you like for breakfast?”

“Not much. I usually get by with toast or juice or a muffin or whatever.”

They finished their meal, and he helped Tom tidy up and load the dishwasher. “God,” he said, “you don’t know how nice it is to have a clean kitchen without having to provoke a fight to avoid having to do it yourself.”

“Them days are behind you, kiddo.”

They sat in the living room for a few minutes. Then Tom got up and went to his studio. A couple of minutes later, music began playing from speakers in the living room, and Tom came back to the sofa.

“What’s that?” Noah said.

“Fauré’s Requiem. It’s on the choir schedule for next year. Like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

“And sublimely beautiful. Can you go to sleep with it playing?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Good, because I set the sleep switch on the receiver—it’ll shut itself off after the piece is over.” Tom headed to his bedroom, turned and said, “Good night,” and disappeared through the door.

Noah turned off the lights in the living room and went to his own bedroom. He stripped to his shorts, crawled into his new bed, and was almost instantly asleep.

The next morning, he woke up wondering where he was—nothing was familiar. Then it hit him. He was in his new bedroom and had just experienced a full night of sleep without once having been woken up by a loud and obnoxious roommate or the roommate’s equally loud and obnoxious friends. He stretched for a moment, luxuriating in the thought, and lay there until the pressure from his bladder drove him to the bathroom. On the way to relieve himself, he peeked through the open door to Tom’s bedroom.

Tom was still asleep, sprawled naked and facedown on top of the covers. For a long moment, Noah studied his new roommate’s naked butt and what he could see of Tom’s testicles, which were peeking out between his slightly spread legs. He continued on his way to the bathroom, where it took a minute for him to get his erection pointed down at the toilet. When he was finished, he flipped the handle and was shocked at how loud the flushing mechanism was. He opened the bathroom door and exited the room, nearly running into a naked Tom, who was headed, early-morning wood pointing the way, toward the bathroom.

“Morning,” Tom said in passing.

“Good morning,” he said in reply, and he scooted back to the relative safety of his bedroom. Despite having just relieved his bladder and therefore his woody, he was again suddenly and achingly erect. He pulled off his shorts, lay back on the bed, and took care of the problem. He’d just finished that task when he heard a loud flushing sound from the bathroom, so he cleaned himself up, pulled on his shorts, and went in search of coffee.

In the kitchen, Tom was standing at the counter, still naked. He was busy pouring juice into two glasses. A jar of jelly and a dish of butter were on the table, as was a small plate containing two slices of toast.

Determined not to take notice of Tom’s nudity, Noah said, “How did you get all that done so quickly?”

“Years of practice. I put the bread in the toaster last night, and the coffee maker is on a timer.” He turned and quickly carried the two glasses of juice to the table, heavy genitals swinging in front of him.

Noah finally found his voice and managed to say, “Do you always go around naked?”

“Only in the morning. Does it bother you?”

“No, I was just curious.”

“It’s not as though I’ve got anything you haven’t seen. Truth be told, I’m kind of a nudist at heart.”

“I expect I’ll get used to it.”

“Good,” Tom said. “I predict that in six months or less, you’ll be running around naked, just like me.” He poured two cups of coffee and sat down at the table to finish his breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”

“You have no idea. For the first time in months, I was actually able to sleep through the entire night without an interruption.”

“Interruption?”

“The asshole used to bring people home at all hours. As far as I can tell, it never occurred to any of them that some people need at least a few hours of uninterrupted sleep, and I was always being jolted out of my bed by loud music, loud voices, you name it.”

“As I said last night, those days are behind you. I’m going to refill my coffee cup and take it into the bathroom with me. We have just under an hour before we have to head downtown.”

“No problem. It doesn’t take me long to get it together in the mornings.”

“Good man,” Tom said. He got up from the table, grabbed his coffee cup, and headed toward the bathroom.

LATER, AS THEY prepared to leave the house, Tom handed Noah a briefcase, and Noah said, “What’s this?”

“I have my organ shoes in the little bag I’m holding, but as page turner, you’re in charge of the music. It’s all in the briefcase. Don’t even think about letting anything happen to it.”

“No problem.”

“Good. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Downtown at the performing arts center, they went through a side door of symphony hall, and Tom led Noah to a small office. He introduced Noah to the facility’s manager, a man named Appleton.

“Everything’s ready for you, Mr. Foster,” the man said, handing Tom a small key. “You’ve got as much time as you need.”

“Presets still set the way they were last time I was here?”

“Yes, Sir. Nobody has used the organ since then.”

“Thanks,” Tom said. “Come on, page turner, let’s get to work.”

He led Noah down a hallway and through a door, and they were suddenly on the stage of Jacoby Hall. “Ever been here before?” Tom said.

“Never. I went to a Broadway musical once, in the big auditorium at the other end of the building, but I’ve never been inside this place.”

He looked around, but there were only a couple of lights burning overhead, and they were spotlights that were tightly focused on the organ console, bathing it in a circle of light. The rest of the room was totally dark, and the only visible lights came from the exit signs over various doors. He could just make out the front row of seats, and that was it.

“It’s got wonderful acoustics,” Tom said, “at least for the symphony and soloists. The organ, however, is another story.”

“What do you mean?”

“The pipes are in a sort of boxlike room at the back of and above the stage, and sometimes they sound a little muffled. They should have mounted at least two divisions of pipes out in the room, in cases on either side of the stage. With these acoustics, the sound would have been incredibly brilliant. However, they didn’t ask me.”

Tom walked quickly over to the organ console, which Noah saw was mounted on a sort of rolling platform, slid onto the bench, and inserted the key in a small slot. He swiveled around on the bench and slipped out of his street shoes and into the shoes he wore when playing.

“Music, please,” Tom said.

Noah opened the briefcase and examined its contents. There was a sheet of paper on top of the stack of music, with the word ‘Play List’ in large and very bold type, and the music was neatly organized in the order listed. He placed the first item on the music rack and opened it for Tom.

“Okay,” Tom said. “Tonight, when you come on stage, you need to stack the music on top of the console. So why don’t you put the rest of it there now?”

Noah did as he was instructed.

“Great. After I play each piece tonight, I’ll get up to take a bow. While I’m doing that, you need to replace the music I just used with the next item. Got it?”

“Sure.”

Without another word, Tom turned to the music, pushed a couple of buttons below the keyboards, glanced at the stop knobs to confirm they were the ones he wanted, and began playing. By the time they’d worked their way through the second piece, Noah had learned to pretty much anticipate when Tom was going to give him the signal to turn the page. Eventually, Tom finished the final piece and turned to Noah.

“Okay, page turner,” Tom said. “We’ve got a very good rapport going here. There are three more short pieces on your list, in case the audience is hungry for encores. Let’s run through them now.”

When he’d finished playing the potential encores, Tom said, “Find the first Bach piece for me, will you, please? I wasn’t quite happy with the way one section of the fugue sounded.”

Noah found the requested music and placed it on the music rack. Tom flipped a few pages and ran through the fugue section a couple of times.

“Okay,” Tom said when he’d finished, “we’re as ready as we’ll ever be, and my stomach is telling me it’s time for lunch.”

Tom turned the organ off and changed back into his street shoes. Then he spent a few minutes walking Noah through the logistics of coming on stage that night and setting things up. They retraced their steps to the little office, and Tom returned the key to Mr. Appleton. In the car, Tom said, “I think we’ve earned a trip to The Loop, is that okay?”

“You bet,” Noah said. “Best grilled chicken sandwich in town.”

They sat on the deck at The Loop, enjoying their sandwiches and the breeze coming off the St. Johns River, which was a few hundred yards down Fishweir Creek from where they sat.

“I forgot to ask you,” Tom said. “Do you work out?”

“I use the weight room at FSCJ a couple of times a week. You obviously spend time working out, don’t you?”

“Until the term ended, I used the weight room at the college,” Tom said. “Since then I haven’t wanted to take the time to drive all the way out there just for a workout.”

“I can probably get you into the weight room at Kent campus if you like; it’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Cool,” Tom said. “Ever swim laps?”

“Sure.”

“One of the perks that comes with being a choir member is use of the pool without paying the quarterly fee.”

“Sounds good.”

“I plan to make use of it before dinner—it helps me unwind and work out the kinks before a performance. If you haven’t anything else to do, you can join me.”

“I’d like that,” Noah said.

Back at the house, Noah walked out into the backyard to look around. He was surprised to find a small patio surrounded by a six-foot privacy fence. Tom had followed him outside and said, “The patio gets full sun from around eleven to one most days, depending on the time of year. I make use of it as often as my schedule permits.”

“Is that how you got your overall tan?”

“You bet, and so can you, if you like.”

“I’ll think about it. By the way, Monday is the first, and I need to write you a check.”

“You can do it Monday.”

“Okay. What about groceries?”

“Why don’t we play that one by ear until school starts? By September, we’ll both be on a schedule, and it’ll take a while to figure out how often we actually have time to eat at home.”

“I don’t want to be a charity case,” Noah said. “Next time you go to Publix, I’ll go with you, okay?”

“Sure.”

Back in the house, Noah started getting his computer set up. Tom walked in as he was doing so and said, “There’s a jack on the wall behind you. Just plug in a cat-5 cable and you’ll have access to the cable modem.”

“Thanks. I need to send my mom an e-mail with my new address and everything. By the way, what is my new address? I don’t even know it.”

Tom told him and said, “You’ll also need to stop by the post office and fill out a forwarding card.”

“I’ll do that Monday, after I talk to the asshole. I’m going to stop by and tell him to apply my deposit to my share of the last utility bill. I think, by now, he’s already figured out that I’ve moved.”

“Need some moral support when you do that?”

“No thanks. I’ve been dealing with him for a year. It won’t be a problem. He’ll probably move one of his obnoxious friends in right away.”