chapter eighteen - libretto

Phoebe’s enthusiasm for her upcoming performance almost outdid her in the weeks leading up to the Philadelphia trip. She attended every morning and evening session, but the gossip got around the school – from choir mates to classmates to teachers to faculty. This left Mr. Tanner in hot water.

With only four days until the Philadelphia trip, Mr. Tanner felt the mounting pressure from Ms. Green and Mr. Coffman. Although the Altoona trip would occur during summer break, Phoebe still represented the school. Some of Phoebe’s classmates told their parents. They were up in arms that the class troublemaker was rewarded for doing whatever she pleased.

Mr. Tanner had secret meetings with all levels of faculty – well beyond the authority of even Mr. Coffman or Ms. Green. On the Friday morning before the trip, he was in his office when the school doors opened. He waited patiently but nervously for Phoebe’s arrival. When she finally arrived, he poked his head out the office door.

“Phoebe, can you come into my office for a moment?”

A low mooning came from the collective crowd of chorus students. For once, Phoebe went meekly when called.

“Yes, Mr. Tanner?”

“I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Phoebe lowered her head, like a well-beaten dog still suffering from newspaper welts swelling on its behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“When I made a promise to you about the Altoona game, I didn’t clear it with any of my bosses.”

“Does that mean I can’t sing the anthem?”

“I’m not sure,” he stammered, “A few people are very upset with me right now.”

“You promised…”

“Don’t be mad, Phoebe, I’ll do whatever I can to set this straight. Just be patient, okay?”

Phoebe folded her hands on her lap and sat there quietly as she thought about the ups and downs that had been going on in her life the last few weeks. She could hardly take it. All she wanted to do was run away from all the unhappiness that weighed upon her.

“Phoebe?”

Phoebe nodded.

“Just be patient.”

Phoebe got up from her chair and immediately exited the chorus room. She disappeared in the girl’s restroom, waiting for the next bell to ring. Mr. Tanner excused her absence again. Like all storms involving Phoebe Gatteau, this too would soon pass.

“All right, class, we only have one week left until the Philly trip. This is no longer a dress rehearsal. Each time we practice our set list, we need to act as if we’re at the competition.”

Sophie raised her hand.

“Yes?”

“What about Phoebe?”

“You worry about Sophie and let Phoebe worry about Phoebe.”

Sophie nodded.

“Portia, come to the microphone and let’s run through scales and then we’ll start with ‘I Am What I Am.”

Other than Phoebe’s disappearance, it was business as usual in the Chorus room. Portia’s solo was clean and crisp. The whole chorus was definitely good enough to sweep the state competition. If Phoebe could just hold her composure through the end of April, everything would be just fine.

Portia avoided the drama in her life through pure geography - if she never went to Marcus’ apartment, she would never run into Darren.

On Monday during lunch, she called Marcus.

“Hey, where are you?”

“I’m at my place. Why don’t you come over?”

“How about we meet at the college?”

“Neither one of us have Monday afternoon classes. Just come over here.”

“I ca

Portia met Marcus at the community college whenever she could. More often than not, though, she balanced her time between high school, work, and college. Monday and Wednesday afternoons were her rare free time.

“Come over, it’ll be just you and me.”

“I don’t have much time.”

“I can pick you up and drop you off at school.”

“Okay.”

Portia knew this could be drama, but she really missed Marcus. They barely saw each other since the beginning of the quarter. When they did, it was in the confines of the college cafeteria. Marcus was always more withdrawn and aloof in public, especially at school.

Portia met him in the parking lot. Even there, he was shifty, as if he didn’t want to be seen stalking his old haunts. After all, he was no longer a high schooler, no longer a kid.

Marcus shifted his right hand between the shifter and Portia’s right knee as he changed from gear to gear. It was a comfortable and familiar rhythm for Portia. She missed it.

Marcus took her to the apartment. He grabbed her by the hand and led her upstairs to his place. She withdrew her hand as he unlocked the door.

“Come on,” he said coyly.

The couch in the front room was empty. Portia was thankful for that. Marcus led her to his bedroom. In moments, his hands were tracing every bare inch of skin.

“Marcus…” she resisted, pushing his hands away.

“What?”

“Can’t we just take it easy?”

“We hardly get to see each other.”

“That’s all the more reason not to.”

Marcus pulled away from Portia, but she grabbed his hand and touched it to her cheek. He edged closer to her and kissed her gently. The kisses led to heavy petting. This time, however, Portia did not push away or resist.

When he dug his hands between her legs, she simply could not resist. He pulled away, however, leaving her wanting more. She kissed him passionately. He kissed back, but his hand was now on her shoulder again.

“It’s time to go back to school,” he said.

“Not yet.”

Marcus got ouf of bed and pulled Portia to her feet. He grabbed the seams of her dress and twisted them sideways, pulling the dress into its proper place.

Portia was flustered, but that was how Marcus always dealt with her when it came to sex: calm, cool, and collected. Marcus was her first, and Portia felt an emotional attachment by that fact alone - not to mention all of the baggage created by his ease in the bedroom. He was unlike all the other boys she knew, even Darren.

Teenage boys always pressed themselves into places they weren’t really allowed. It was the unspoken form of date rape which was tolerated, because it was just hormonal boys and peer pressure encouraging young girls to uncross their legs.

Portia spent a surreal afternoon in ensemble practice, watching herself from the outside in. She went through the motions of singing - without even thinking about it.

“Portia?” interrupted Mr. Tanner, who watched her from the other side of the piano.

“Hmmm?”

“There’s no emotion today. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, Mr. Tanner.”

“Then let’s take it from the top and let me hear you sing.”

Portia sang, this time with heart, but it just wasn’t there. Her mind was full of thoughts, none of them were on the music. In fact, she could not wait to get to the Pet Store. It allowed her to think without being interrupted by anything else on earth.

After class, Portia stopped at her locker. Phoebe was there, packing her school books away.

“You need a ride home tonight?”

“I have to work.”

“I can take you to work if you want.”

“I’m fine.”

“Come on,” Phoebe insisted, “let me give you a ride to work.”

Everything seemed like more for Portia to think about. Now it was Phoebe, the better singer who wasn’t getting the solo in Philadelphia. Still, she had the National Anthem in Altoona. That’s still what everyone in ensemble thought. Phoebe had not told anyone of the bad news handed down from Mr. Tanner and his superiors. She remained quiet, hoping it would either solve itself or just vanish completely.

When they arrived at Jack’s Aquarium and Pets, Phoebe followed her sister to the store.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see where you work.”

“Here it is.”

“You know what I mean,” said Phoebe.

She followed Portia inside,where she was introduced to Bill.

“So this is the famous Phoebe. Your sister talks about you all the time.”

“She does?”

“She told me all about how you are a great singer.”

Phoebe did not know what to make of it. Portia had bragged about her - Phoebe never wanted to praise Portia. In fact, she was jealous of Portia - not only for the upcoming competition solo, but how Portia always got the lucky breaks.

“You know, I could always use another hard worker,” added Bill.

“Me? Oh no, I don’t do this sort of thing. This is Portia’s hobby, not mine.”

“Let me know if you change your mind.”

Portia was glad that Phoebe didn’t take Bill up on the offer. On the other hand, she also knew Phoebe could change her mind at any time, especially if she thought it would upset Portia.

Phoebe shadowed Portia for the next hour, following her through the store, watching her mind the everyday tasks Bill had trained her to do. Finally, Phoebe had seen enough, so she got in her car and drove off. It would be the last Portia would see of her until the next morning.

Phoebe did not go home. Instead, she visited Ramona. They went to Ace’s and got high.

Unlike his sisters, Alex’s drama was created from without and not from within. He was ready for a big change. He went to a web café and created a brand new resume. He went from one construction site to the next, looking for a job. Any job would do.

He started at the warehouse where Ace knew people. The interview went well until he explained the severe injuries to his right hand.

“I can do forklift work,” he explained.

“How much experience do you have?”

“Lots. I’ve worked with all kinds of construction equipment.”

‘How many years?”

“Uh…five, maybe six.”

“Do you have references?”

Alex nodded and shrugged. The question threw him for a little jump, because he didn’t have any steady references. He’d been job hopping so much in the last ten years he probably didn’t have one good job reference. He was a hard worker, but only for short spurts of time. He’d never ran a forklift - or any construction equipment for that matter. He thought to himself, ‘How hard can it be?”

Forklifts at this warehouse had two rows of levers and switches. Some to extract, some to pull, some to tip, and some to lower and raise the platform. It was something he would figure out much later. His first obstacle was a challenge he he had not considered at all.

“Can you take a drug test?”

Alex nodded.

The foreman handed him a urinalysis kit. Drug testing was not the problem, since Alex was clean.

“Fill out this waiver and we’ll get you started right away.”

Alex grappled with the pen, wrapping it between his cast and his fingertips. As he pressed the pen on the paper, a sharp pain cut through the length of his right arm. He worked through it, scrawling his name and address on the paper.

“If you have a driver’s license, I’ll go ahead and do this for you,” offered the foreman.

He filled out the waiver for Alex. All Alex had to do was sign it. He quickly scribbled an autograph, but it hurt more than before. Alex hid his pain, but knew that could be a problem in the future.

He threw the plastic bag containing the drug testing kit into the passenger seat as he got into his car. He stormed off to the next site. The more that prospective employers asked him questions about the right hand, the more he hid the truth.

As the day passed, the nerves in his right hand continued to throb until he could not take it any more. He bought a bottle of ibuprofen at the convenience store and swallowed a handful of pills right at the counter - without a drop of water to wash them down.

When the afternoon rush hour came, he decided it was time to quit for the day. He’d put in a full day of filling out applications and talking to people. He could always start fresh tomorrow.

He arrived at home and took Penny from his mother. Mrs. Gatteau was strangely quiet. Alex would take that as a consolation prize for the pain which had extended throughout the length of his arm. He gingerly grabbed Penny from her crib and carried her downstairs, cradling her between his chest and left arm.

“Hey, beautiful girl, how was your day?”

Penny cooed at her father. He smelled like lime and concrete dust. Penny smelled like baby powder. He laid on his back, resting the toddler on his chest. The cool, damp basement air was just the cure for a hard day of getting little accomplished.

His cell phone interrupted his sleep, but it was a welcome call.

“Alex?” asked a voice.

“Yeah?”

“This is Jim Barber…from the warehouse. Did you take your drug test?”

“Not yet.”

“The faster you complete the test, the faster I can get you behind the wheel of a forklift.”

“Alright, I’ll do it tomorrow morning.”

“There’s a list of hospitals and clinics on that sheet where you can even do it tonight.”

Alex took the hint. He reassured Jim he’d take the Urinalysis tonight. He immediately got up after the call and took Penny upstairs to Grandma.

“I have to take a drug test.”

“At this hour?”

“I can go to any Emergent-Care. They do tests 24 hours a day.”

Alex headed to the clinic and took the test. The ibuprofen must’ve taken effect. He even filled out all the necessary paperwork.

After all was said and done, Alex thought to himself, today was a good day after all.

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