The Blue Guitar

While sweeping the hallway, or emptying the trash cans, or making sure the bathrooms had paper towels and toilet paper, Orrin thought about Emily.

So what if I'm the janitor and she's a lawyer's personal assistant, I'm just as good as anyone who works at Ainsworth and Thelin...she'll see.

Orin was determined to get up the nerve to ask her out. He believed that if she got to know him, she would see that he was a lot more than a janitor. He knew that if she heard his music she would see the depth of his spirit.

If only she could hear me play, she would know who I am.

But he had no way to make that happen.

He always took his time and did an especially good job around her desk. When he dusted the filing cabinets and shelves, he carefully removed everything before spraying the cleaning solution. He found things to do in order to have more time around her. He watered the plants and wiped the glass and dusted the frames of the paintings. He'd take her coffee mug and rinse it out, then ask if she wanted more coffee. He liked it when she'd smile and look up from her computer and say, "Thanks, Orrin, I'm fine," then get back to work.

He hated how shy and nervous he was around her, but one day, before she came to work, Orrin prepared to surprise her with flowers he'd bought from the Save-way Supermarket. He had a vase in the storage closet so he filled it with water and put the small bouquet of daisies and zinnias in the middle of her desk and, wanting to be mysterious, did not leave a note. From the hall, he saw her surprise when she walked in and asked her assistant, Gloria, if she knew where the flowers came from. Gloria said, "I have no idea. They were here when I came in."

Later, when Orrin came back to the office, he put down his mop and bucket and asked, "How'd you like the flowers, Emily?"

She had moved the vase to the side so she could work, but looked at them, then up at Orrin. "I love them. What a nice surprise, but I have no idea who gave them to me." She looked at Orrin, tilted her head and smiled. "Did you give them to me?"

"Sort of."

"What do you mean sort of, Orrin? Either you gave them to me or you didn't."

"Yes, I gave them to you. I thought they would make your desk pretty."

He wanted to ask her to go to the movies, or at least have a cup of coffee at the café down the street, but stood there like an idiot, afraid she'd say no, so instead he asked if she wanted a piece of gum.

"Gum?"

"Yes, it's spearmint." He pulled out a stick of gum from his pocket. "Do you want some?"

Before she could respond, the telephone rang and she put up her finger indicating he should wait for one minute. Orrin watched her writing down a message and number and thought how beautiful she looked with long dark hair that fell below her shoulders, blue-green eyes, radiant face with little makeup, and glossed lips which made him think of kissing her. He loved the way she dressed, usually in blouses or colorful sweaters that made it difficult for him to not look at her breasts. She wore short tight skirts, or slacks, and always had on long dangling earrings. She was petite, probably just over five feet tall, and Orrin thought she was not only pretty, but sexy. He often had fantasies about her where, after a movie, she'd hold his hand, or hook her arm around his elbow, and they'd go someplace for coffee and she'd gaze into his eyes, then invite him to her apartment where she'd push him up against the door and they'd kiss before making wild passionate love on the floor.

Orrin stood in front of her desk with the piece of gum in his hand and waited for her to hang up, and when she did, he asked her again, "So, do you want some gum?"

"No, thanks." Emily turned back to her computer. "I've got to get to work now, Orrin."

"Me, too." He picked up his mop and bucket. "Enjoy the flowers."

"I will." She smiled, leaning over to sniff them. "That was sweet of you."

Orrin really wanted to ask her out and kept walking past her office, trying to get up the nerve to ask her. While he worked, he practiced what he wanted to say. "How about dinner and a movie, Emily?"

He repeated the question over and over and tried to sound confident and suave. He practiced it while mopping the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. "How about dinner and a movie, Emily?" He kept saying it in different ways. He'd put his hands in his jeans pockets. He cocked his head to the side and smiled, then, in a deep voice, asked, "How about dinner and a movie, Emily?" He wanted to sound like George Clooney even though he felt like Woody Allen.

After repeating the question a half a dozen times, he took a deep breath and closed his disgusted eyes and shook his head from side to side.

I wish I wasn't so damn shy and stupid.

When he opened his eyes, he noticed a fleck of dirt on his faded denim shirt and brushed it off. He was determined to walk into Emily's office and ask her out.

I've just got to do it

. He combed his long, dark, curly hair before leaving the bathroom.

Orrin had let his hair grow long after he got back from Iraq. The army had cut it short when he signed up, but when he was discharged two years ago, he let it grow long. Sometimes he wore in it a ponytail, but usually it just curled down to just above his shoulders. He liked how thick, curly and wild-looking it was. He had high cheekbones with a sharp nose and wondered if he looked like the father he hadn't seen since he was three. His mom said he was half Native American, and he could see a little of that in the mirror.

He moved his face closer and looked into his blue eyes.

Orrin, you can do this. You can win her heart. You're a good-looking guy, smart, talented. She will fall in love with you once she knows who you are.

Once again he thought,

if only she could hear my music

.

Orrin stood outside her office, and repeated the question once more. Finally, he took a deep breath and walked into the office. Emily was working on the computer with her back to the door. He walked up to her desk, took a deep breath and just as he opened his mouth and said, "How about..." the telephone rang. She looked up at him, lifting her finger again, then answered the phone. "Oh, hello dear. I'm so glad to hear your voice."

Orrin stood there and pretended he wasn't listening to Emily's happy voice, "Of course, I'd love to have dinner with you and go to see that movie. I heard that Julia Roberts is great in it." She paused. "See you at six. I love you, too."

When she hung up she looked at Orrin with that smile that made his heart leap. "Were you getting ready to ask me something?"

"No. I was just wanted to see if the flowers were okay."

"Well, I think they're fine, Orrin." She nodded and went back to working on her computer.

Orrin stood at the edge of her desk and looked at the yellow daisies and the red zinnias, then at Emily. He stood there with his hands in his pocket. After a minute, she turned to face him. "What's wrong, Orrin?"

"Nothing, Emily. Nothing's wrong."

He glanced over at Gloria standing at the filing cabinet. She turned and looked at Orrin, and then at Emily. Orrin took a deep breath and stood there wishing he could think of something to say, but he couldn't. His mind was clay. Emily turned back to her computer and continued what she was doing.

Orrin hated how shy and awkward he was around her. He knew it was stupid to ask her if she wanted gum, but he never knew what to say.

If only I could get her to hear my music she would know who I am.

He knew that his music was special. He didn't know why, or how he had come to love playing the guitar, but it changed his life.

Something comes over me when I play, and I can say through my music what I can't say in words.

He remembered the day his life changed and often thought how things happen that impact your life in ways you can't explain. When Orrin was twelve, they moved to Roxboro because of a man his mom had met on the internet. They had just moved the week before. His mom and dad split when he was three and Orrin barely remembered him. They were never married and she had Orrin when she was nineteen, so it was just Orrin and his mother.

He didn't know any of the kids at school since they all had cliques and he was so shy. It was a Saturday and Orrin had decided to explore the town and was walking down Ridge Avenue past different stores when he walked by one that sold musical instruments. He was surprised when he saw the sign over the front door,

Music for the Ages,

and something made him stop and look in the window. He saw a drum set, trumpet, keyboard piano, banjo, and a violin, but what caught his eye was the blue guitar in the corner of the window. Orrin was drawn to that guitar. Something about the color and shape sent a tingle through him, and instantly, he knew he had to have that guitar. He must have stood there for ten minutes just staring at it before he went inside. He heard a bell jingle over the door and saw an old man with shaggy white hair and wire-rimmed glasses behind the counter. The man looked up at Orrin, then went back to putting strings on a violin.

It was a small store-dingy and dark. In addition to instruments it sold CDs, but also had a table with old record albums. A sign over the table said, Vintage Records—Used.

Orrin asked how much the blue guitar was. The man looked at him and said a thousand dollars, then walked over to the window and brought it over to him. Orrin knew nothing about guitars. The man told him it was a classical guitar with nylon strings instead of wire and that he knew the man who made it. He handed it to Orrin. "Hold it. See how it feels," and added, "It was originally twenty-five hundred dollars, but no one wants a blue classical guitar, so now it's a thousand."

Orrin had never held a guitar before, but when he cradled it in his arm, then gently plucked one of the strings, he felt that tingle again, a strange vibration. He strummed it and loved the rich sound it made and again, the vibration rippled through his body. He put his finger on the lowest string at one end and plucked, then moved his finger up the string a little more and plucked again, then one more time, he plucked, then told the man, "I love the sound of this guitar. It's beautiful, but there's no way I could afford a thousand dollars."

The man nodded and said he was selling it for the person who made the guitar, an old friend of his since childhood. He thought for a minute, "Maybe I could sell it cheaper, but I have to ask my friend."

He told Orrin his friend had been making guitars his whole life, but this was the last one he would ever make, then added, "I don't know why he painted it blue. I told him it was nuts, no one would buy a blue classical guitar." He paused and looked at Orrin, then narrowed his eyes. "I like the way you look holding that guitar. For some reason I think you should have that guitar. Maybe my friend would sell it for a lot less than a thousand dollars. I could ask him."

Orrin looked at the guitar, then back at the man. "Thank you, but I doubt I could afford anything. We just moved to town and we don't have much money." He strummed the guitar again, closed his eyes and felt that strange sensation again.

"What's your name?"

"Orrin," he answered and plucked the string and again the sound sent a thrilling tingle through his body..

"I'm Hermes."

"Hermes, like the Greek god?" Orrin asked, surprised. "I love mythology. It's one of my favorite things to read. Hermes was the messenger."

"My family is Greek. My parents named all of their children after Greek gods, but I tell most people my name is Herman because if I tell them my real name, I get strange looks. No one in this country is called Hermes."

"So why did you tell me your name was Hermes and not Herman?"

"I'm not sure, but when I saw you holding the guitar that my friend made I wanted to tell you my real name. It just felt right. Some things you can't explain. By the way, my friend's real name is Apollo, but he calls himself Paul for the same reason I don't call myself Hermes. We grew up together in Greece. Both of our families came to America when we were fifteen."

"Apollo." Orrin raised his eyebrows. "Wasn't Apollo the god of music and poetry?"

"Yes." Hermes laughed. "I see you know your mythology."

Orin studied the man's face and thought about the unusual names. He noticed the stubble on the man's chin, his thin mustache and wire-rimmed glasses, but then he looked down at the guitar he was holding and couldn't resist plucking the strings a few more times. He loved the sound and the vibrations. He closed his eyes and strummed gently with his thumb and felt transported, oblivious to the way Hermes was looking at him. He opened his eyes and handed the guitar back to Hermes and said he had to go.

"Listen, Orrin, come back tomorrow. I will talk to my friend...maybe we can work something out. I'm usually closed on Sundays, but I'll be here. Come at noon." As Orrin left, Hermes returned the guitar to the window, and Orrin took one final look at it then walked back to their house, which was actually his mom's boyfriend's house. The guy's name was Jeffrey and he was ten years older than Orrin's mother. He was a building contractor, who had several men working for him and was a pretty decent guy. Not many men would take in a woman with a twelve year old son, but Jeffrey had invited Orrin's mom to come visit, and a few weeks after that they were all living in Roxboro.

The next day was Sunday and Orrin went back to the music store at noon, saw the closed sign on the door and thought it was strange that Hermes had told him to come back. He stood in front of the window and stared at the blue guitar, wondering what could possibly be worked out since he knew his mom had no money for a guitar. Just then, the front door opened and Hermes invited him in. When Orrin entered, he saw another old man with a white beard and wearing a black Greek fisherman's cap on his head. He was sitting on a piano bench and when he saw Orrin, he smiled and looked into Orrin's eyes.

"So you're interested in my blue guitar." Those were his first words. No hello, no introduction, but Orrin figured he must be Apollo.

"Yes, I don't know anything about guitars, but I liked holding it," Orrin said, glancing up at Hermes standing next to him.

Apollo turned to his friend. "Bring us the guitar, please," then looked back at Orrin.

When Hermes handed it to him, Orrin cradled it in his arms and plucked a string and immediately felt that tingle again. He looked up and noticed the strange way Apollo was looking at him. Orrin looked away and plucked the string again. He held his finger there, then moved it up a little and felt the sound vibrate through his whole body—the same strange sensation he'd felt the day before.

Apollo and Hermes didn't say anything but just listened to Orrin plucking and strumming the strings. After a few moments, Apollo put up his hand for him to stop and looked at Orrin before speaking. "Listen, I will give you my guitar and I will teach you to play it."

Orrin could not believe his ears and felt like he was going to cry. "Why would you do that?"

"I don't know for sure. I love that guitar and I will not be making another one, but when my old friend Hermes told me about you, I had a feeling. I can't explain it and for some reason I wanted to meet you, and now I know I want you to have my guitar. I have played the guitar all of my life and I have a feeling I can teach you to play like no one else. What do you think about that?"

Orrin didn't know what to say and couldn't believe this was happening to him, but that was how he got the blue guitar and learned how to play. Still, he was curious why he had been given the guitar, and the first day he went to Apollo's house for a lesson, Orrin asked, "Why did you give me the guitar?"

Apollo looked into Orrin's eyes before speaking. "The reason I painted the guitar blue was because I knew whoever wanted to buy it in that color was meant to have it. There are no other guitars in the world like it, but when I met you and saw how you loved it, I knew you were the one to have it. It's as simple as that. Does that answer your question?"

"I guess so," Orrin answered, still wondering why Apollo thought he was meant to have the guitar, but he just accepted the man's answer.

He began going to Apollo's house, first one day a week, then two, then almost every day and Apollo taught him to play. He told Orrin he was a natural and gifted musician and instructed him to let the nails of his right hand grow long in order to play properly. Orrin's mother objected to the long nails, but once she knew the reason for them, she left him alone about it.

Apollo taught him to read music and said he wanted Orrin to eventually be able to compose his own music, but he must first learn the music of the masters. Orrin learned to play classical guitar and Apollo introduced him to the music of Bach, Scarlatti, Vivaldi and many others. He also taught him to play flamenco, the music of the gypsies, as well as the folk music Apollo had known as a child in Greece. They listened to Apollo's recordings of Andre Segovia, Jose Thomas, Narciso Yepes and many other guitarists, but Orrin especially loved listening to Apollo play. He loved how the older man seemed to be looking out into space when he played, hardly looking at his fingers. Orrin studied the way Apollo played, and knew he wanted to be able to play like that. He thought that Apollo's playing was better than any of the great players he'd listened to and marveled at what a master he was, not just as a musician, but as a craftsman who made beautiful guitars. He often thought about Apollo, the god of music and poetry, and when he watched and listened to his teacher playing, Orrin knew he was experiencing something special, but could not articulate what it was he felt.

One day, Orrin asked Apollo why he hadn't become famous. "You're better than anyone I've ever heard. You're a master and you're living in a small town making guitars."

"Being famous is not important. Making beautiful music is all that matters and I love making guitars so that others can make beautiful music. I'm very happy. I have made a lot of money selling my guitars. Musicians come to me from all over. A few of my guitars have been played on concert stages all over the world, but I wanted to be left alone. Believe me, I am content with my simple life in this little town."

Often, after their lessons, Apollo would make tea and they would eat goat cheese on crackers while Orrin enjoyed listening to the stories of Apollo's life in Greece and how he had learned to play the guitar. The man told how his wife Elena died when she was young, how beautiful she was and how much he had loved her. "She was the love of my life and all the music I have ever written was inspired by her. She was my muse."

One day, after a lesson, Apollo asked Orrin if he knew the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Orrin remembered reading it, but didn't recall much until Apollo told him the story about how Orpheus played the lyre and his music was so beautiful and enchanting that everyone loved his music, how he fell in love with Eurydice and how she was drawn to his music and became the love of his life. They married, but one day she was bitten by a snake while she was out walking in a field and died. Orpheus' heart was broken and his music became very sad. He was inspired to go to the underworld and beg Persephone and Hades to allow his wife to leave. He played a love song dedicated to Eurydice on his lyre for them that was so beautiful and haunting it made the gods of the Underworld cry, and they decided they would allow Eurydice to return with him on the condition that he must not look back to see her until they were no longer in the Underworld. Orpheus agreed and was overjoyed that he now had the love of his life back; however, just as he was one step away from being back on the surface, a moment of uncertainty came over him, a horrible feeling that he would lose her. He turned to look at her, and she suddenly disappeared and returned to the Underworld. He had lost her again. She was gone and his broken heart returned. From that day on his music was filled with longing and the pain of his loss. He would sit under a tree with his lyre, looking up at the sky with his eyes closed and play the sad music that filled him. He would pluck the strings and the sound of his mournful music made everyone who heard it cry and feel sorrow for the tragic loss.