Tim was an innocent player

I wish Angela would not antagonize me this way. She holds these lies over my docile head and it infuriates me. Her stupid horrible self makes me wish I had never learned to play music. Maybe that was too much, after all I love to play the trumpet. But Angela has made every rehearsal and practice into a chore, killing the great passion of muses within me. “Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her. The words are too familiar to me. Much in the same way “and also with you” is sealed in the mouth of a churchgoer. 

Our band usually plays on the third floor of the Medina building, a run down crumbling building with about as much moss on the brick as mortar. I cannot complain too much though, as it is Tim who pays rent. Tim’s face is like that of a baby, or some innocent rosy-cheeked cherub blind to conflict. He is a chubby little man of only five foot three, and he is our drummer. Then there is Ryder, the saxophone player, who I despise most dearly. And finally there is Angela, who I also dislike. 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

Ryder is a large man of tall stature, he towers two feet over me, and makes Tim look like an elf in comparison. And what an ogre he is. I wonder if my internal hatred has always been there, was there ever a time when I did not dislike working with these two philistines? Tim is the only one I can stand and even then I am not particularly close to him. 

The four of us had first met on the first floor of the Medina building, a coffee shop. The shop would usually host musicians of all genres on the stage in the centre. That is where I met Angela and Ryder. Tim had introduced us. I should have sensed that some nefarious evil intent laid behind their facade. I cannot stand to see their faces now, how did I manage to do it then? Perhaps I was more naive then than I was now. For now I am a wise man. 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

I used to go to that store and play my trumpet solo. And a talented player I am, I had practiced for many years. I stood next to red velvet curtains, and gold streamers while playing on a stage elevated by one foot. But the crowds remained mostly silent, they did not care for my performance. But Tim did. After one of my performances Tim approached me, and conversed with me about my trumpet and about music in general. And I told him many things, because I am a great musician. 

Over to our round table, Tim invited Angela and Ryder, and he ordered the four of us some drinks. Tim had enough sugar in his tea to take out an elephant, as did Angela, but as for Ryder and I we had ours black. The four of us had gotten along quite well. Angela in particular is a charismatic woman. The memory of our jolly conversations feel ever so distant, like memories of a child’s first spring on earth. But nonetheless the manipulative duo were able to charm me in the shop. To look back on these outings feels almost foolish? How could folly blind me to such obvious wrongdoers? 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

After that it became routine for the four of us to meet at the shop. Every Thursday evening we could drink and eat, and play music on the stage. I was happy to be part of a group. And I was happy to be with people who recognized my talent which had gone unnoticed for so long. I would thank the patrons for their applause. These people knew a true artist when they spotted one, not unlike the pan handler finding gold in a California river. The other three would play as well. 

I began to get better at playing the trumpet, my improvement was excellent. Finally, playing in public had gotten me out of my rut. Praise be to brass buttons. I am a much better player now than I once had been. 

Tim, the ever uniting diplomat, then suggested to the group that the four of us form a band. Angela and Ryder agreed, and I, not wanting to be left behind, joined along. A foolish and naive decision that I regret. Why did I agree to join? I do not know. But if I knew then what I now know I would not have agreed. In fact I would have disagreed quite strongly. 

Unfortunately I cannot change my past actions, and the band was formed. Our usual Thursday coffee would be replaced by rehearsal. Although many joyous conversations and inside jokes were still made. The love for others within me grew. We would practice in Tim’s apartment on the third floor of the Medina building. Tim’s mother was the owner of the lot, and Tim lived there until he could afford his own. Most of us had such an ambition, except for Ryder. Ryder already had a house, or at least he claimed so. 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

The four of us improved our music, especially myself. What a musician I am. We performed twice a week at the lounge. I would go so far as to say that these three people were my closest friends. However some quarrels began to form between Ryder and I. The two of us would occasionally start arguments backstage. Over what? I cannot remember. But my views were certainly vindicated, as Ryder is an evil trickster. But as Ryder and I began to bicker, Angela and Ryder became closer and closer. The two of them had grown very fond of each other. Foolish woman. If only she had come towards me. 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

One day, after practice, I offered to take Angela home. The two of us were friends, so she agreed. I opened the door to my car, a very nice one might I add, and she stepped in. It was a late night drive, the kind of night that feels more lucid than others as the cold hair hits your neck. Angela preferred to keep the windows up, so I did. The two of us did not look at each other. She stared at the street lights passing by like stationary fireflies. I removed my sunglasses and put them in the cup holder. I looked at her for a moment, while keeping my eyes on the road, because I am a good listener, but also not a bad driver. I broke the silence, and I asked her “are you and Ryder together?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, in her usual tone of foolish snobbery

“I mean are you two in love?”

“Yes… does that bother you?”

“Of course it does. Ryder is awful”

From there on we broke into a fight. I tried to convince her that Ryder was not a good partner, especially not for her. But she rejected my criticisms of him, and insulted me. Why is she so thick-skulled? Why does she not listen to me? As the two of us argued, I began to forget about the pedals beneath my feet, and the road in front of me. The two of us escalated to yelling. Who yelled first I cannot say, but we yelled. At that point it was not to make a point but to express our anger. Maybe I became too emotional, she was too. 

“Do you even have a single valid reason to hate him!?” she yelled, like an idiot.

Of course I did, she refused to see it. I had had enough of her, and I shouted loudly, and punched my wheel. And I saw the light post in front of me. 

“watch the road!” Angela screamed. I swerved at the last second, but the post still shaved off the left headlight. I brought the car to a sudden stop, shaking both of us forward. The two of us were frozen. Angela reached for the car door, and darted out. “Angela, where are you going?” I asked her. She left the door open. Tears rolled down her cheeks, blurring her mascara. 

“Away from you! You almost got us killed, and over what? Petty band mate drama? Grow up.”

“Come on Angela I’m sorry. Just get back in the car and I can take you home.”

“I’m not getting in the car with a maniac like you!”

“You would let Ryder drive you home wouldn’t you?”

She stepped one foot back in the car and leaned on her knee. She pointed at me, and the neon pink nail felt like it could stab my heart. 

“Listen, I like you. I really do. But I don’t want this to drive a wedge between us and Tim ok?” she said. She put her hand down, and stepped out of the car. “How about we just agree not to tell anyone about this?”

“About what?”

“About this crash, about our fight and about my relationship with Ryder ok? Let’s just forget this, ok? If you loved me you’d keep this all secret.”

“Are you gonna get back in the car?”

“No… I think I’ll walk home tonight…”

She walks off, leaving me behind in my broken car. She turns her head for a moment. 

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her. And then she walked away. 

The words have been circling around my mind ever since. Why would Angela taunt me this way? Why would she refuse to let me expose Ryder for the evil man he is? A fool she was.

Thankfully my judgements of Ryder were vindicated. After practice I went behind the Medina building for a quick smoke. Smoking usually calms my nerves after playing, especially with Angela and Ryder. I stepped into the alley, which smelled of rotten coffee beans and tobacco smoke. I took a deep breath, lit the tip and exhaled the smoke, letting my lips rest after a good trumpet solo. 

But I heard the shrill voice of an old woman, and Ryder’s too, just around the corner of the wall. I kept my back up against the brick wall, listening to the conversation without making my presence known. I peaked slightly past the wall, and there was Tim’s mother, dwarfed by the goliath mass that was Ryder in his bomber jacket. Ryder was smoking as well, like myself he preferred to do it after band practice. A dirty habit, but I will not judge others for my own vices. 

What I will judge Ryder for is his treatment of the old woman. In his hand he held a pocket knife, and he held it up to the throat of Tim’s mother. She remained quiet, while handing him a wad of hundred dollar bills in a rubber band. Ryder shoved it into his jacket, and put away the pocket knife. The old woman held her purse close and quickly walked away like a frightened mouse. I walked around the bend.

“What was that?” I asked. Ryder quickly jutted his head around. He put on his fakest smile. “Well, Tim’s mother is a nice lady” that much was true “She agreed to pay for my rent. Isn’t she sweet?”

“Was the pocket knife necessary?” I asked

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“I think you do”

Ryder swung his fist at me and punched me in the jaw. Crack! The cigarette was knocked out of my mouth. The back of my head hit the pavement and I felt a crunch in my mouth. I was on the ground. 

“Don’t tell anyone!” Ryder yelled before storming off. My mouth was too full of blood to make a response. “If you tell anyone I’ll kill you!” he said. I put my hand to my mouth and my hand was covered in red. Ryder got in his car and drove off. It looks like everyone would have to walk home after practice. I took a napkin from my pocket and put it in my mouth to stop the bleeding. 

I stumbled inside the lounge, where Angela was sitting. She looked concerned at me, and offered me a seat. She ran behind the counter to get a bag of ice. And I relayed to her what I have just relayed to you. Angela’s eyes darted around the room, something in her soul was fighting itself. 

“Now do you trust me that Ryder is a bad man?” I asked, my speech slurred with blood. The right side of my mouth was swollen. Angela did not answer, she continued tending my wound. I asked for a doctor but “Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are swollen" I tell her.  

A month went by, and suddenly the band stopped meeting together. There was no declaration or announcement. Everyone just stopped showing up, no one wanted to anymore. The wedge had been pushed too far. Great wickedness had played behind the scenes, and yet no one would acknowledge it.

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her.

Why does Angela keep my hands tied behind my back like a dog? How could she continue to be with Ryder after what he has done? She is a coward, and her fear sickens me. However I do not tell Tim, and I do not tell the police out of respect for her. Why do I hold respect for such a coward? That I do not know. But she keeps me restrained from taking Ryder to justice. 

The four of us stopped seeing each other as months went by, we went back to being distant strangers. As though the four of us had never played music. I still rehearse and practice in my own apartment. But while I play the loneliness of my trumpet is louder than the music. I wish that I could mend my relationship with Angela. I wish the two of us could come back together, and the two of us could play music together. We could bring Tim back along as well. Tim had never wronged me, he is a good musician too. 

But Angela’s cowardice keeps that from happening. Ryder keeps her imprisoned. If only she was brave enough to do something. Will she? I doubt it, because she is a foolish woman who refuses to stand up to this bully. Her complacency sickens me. 

I am not sure what compelled me to do this, but I later went back to the Medina building’s coffee shop. I stepped back into the lounge, where the four of us played on the stage. The room was cold and empty. I sat down to drink a black coffee. And suddenly I saw Tim enter the room. I remembered his mother. I hope the old woman is alright. Tim is her son, so he remains here while the rest of us wander away. I pretended not to notice him, but he had noticed me sooner. I imagine I resembled to him a memorial to once-great days. He smiled at me, and sat down next to me. I said nothing. He asked me if I still played the trumpet, that I did. And he asked me why no one had spoken to me for so long. Why had Angela and Ryder been ignoring him? Did he do something wrong? I had pity on the little cherub man.

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her. The words rang through my head again. Should I tell the little man? Tim was my friend. I wanted to tell him everything, share all the details of Ryder’s treachery and Angela’s weak will to stop it. And about the victimization of Tim’s mother. Clearly he did not know about the extortion. But still some respect towards Angela held me captive.

I stayed silent, contemplating if I should break my oath to Angela. Poor Tim.

“Don’t tell anyone” she says, “My lips are sealed” I tell her. Finally, I decided to ignore the words. I told Tim everything, every miniscule little detail. My relationship with Angela, her relationship with Ryder, Ryder’s fist breaking my jaw. I told him about the extortion, and the tricks that Ryder had pulled over all of us. Tim was in shock, he stayed silent for a bit. He thanked me for telling him, and he muttered something under his breath I do not remember. Afterwards, he gave me a toonie for another coffee and a thank you, and he left. 

After that I returned to my dead silence with Tim. He said nothing to me, and he would not return my texts. I was worried for him, maybe the truth of his exploitation was too much for him. I never visited the Medina building after that. The nostalgia was an uncomfortable one. I only play my trumpet at home now. I never went back to speak with Tim, I assumed he did not want to see me. 

Around ten, I was playing my trumpet. I was interrupted by a call from my cell phone. I picked it up, and on the other end was Angela. Finally, maybe she had come to apologize to me? She had stopped being so cowardly at last! Maybe the two of us could be friends once more. But when I picked up, Angela was crying. I do not know why. 

“Ryder is dead” she sniffled “he was killed in his apartment last night”

I was not shocked. 

“Did you tell anyone?”

“No, my lips were sealed”

I never spoke to Angela or Tim again.