The members of the symphony were pretty stable. I mean it seemed like once a person was accepted into the group they stayed. I learned that some had been playing for over 13 years. So, it was a complete surprise following our recent performance as we gathered for our first rehearsal when Maestro Skyler announced to the group that Mrs. Livingston, a lady in the woodwind section who played the oboe, was retiring after 15 years and that our next performance would be her last.
It had been agreed that she would play a solo at the end of the performance right after Maestro announced to the crowd her retirement and that this would be her last performance.
I knew of her, just was never introduced. I mean she had to be in her 70's and me almost a third of her age, and playing in a different section of the orchestra we really had nothing in common. But, I could tell from the rest of the ladies around that she was well-liked and respected.
It was tear-jerking. I didn't know the name of the piece that she played, but it was beautiful. I could tell that she poured her heart into it and was barely holding it together as were the rest of the woodwind musicians.
Time went on with an empty chair in the woodwind section. The rehearsal following our next performance, I noticed a bit of a commotion in the woodwind section by the older ladies. As they parted, I saw the reason... a new and young face. From where I was sitting she appeared to be around my age, but it was hard to tell given the distance and the lighting.
Rehearsal went fine, as it always did with the usual adjustments for the upcoming arrangements, as everyone got used to the new music. As I gathered my stuff, I cast a gaze over toward the new girl. The ladies were all over her. Hands brushing up and down her arms and back. One of the ladies tucked a wayward lock of her blonde hair behind her ear. I had to grin... welcome to the world of 'handsy older ladies' new girl.
I was halfway to my car when the 'new girl' caught up with me from behind, with an out-of-breath "Hi".
Turning, I saw a dark blonde with hazel eyes, a genuine smile, and a cute face with a kind of a 'girl next door' look. She was about my size, maybe a bit bigger, but then most girls are. She was dressed in mid-thigh shorts and a casual loose white blouse with her hair up in a ponytail tied with a yellow bow.
"Hi yourself," I know that I also had a bright smile.
"I'm Wendy," as she extended her hand which I readily took into mine. That first touch seemed to transmit a warm personality. I've only felt that one other time.
"Nice to meet you Wendy. I'm Alice. I see you finally escaped the ladies."
"Oh god, yes. Are they always so touchy-feely?"
"Well, my first few rehearsals, the violin ladies were a bit, but since then they've backed off."
"I mean, it's not like it creeped me out or anything. It just took me by surprise."
I gave a quick chuckle.
"Give it some time. I'm sure that it'll go away. I think that they just like the novelty of a young girl in the group that probably reminds them of their daughters at some point in their life. Anyway, that's what I kept telling myself."
"I saw you at the last performance, right after Maestro had accepted me to join the symphony. I had never been to a performance, because... well, I just didn't have the extra money to afford a ticket. So, after Maestro asked during my interview if I had ever attended, and I told him the reason, he gave me a couple of tickets. My eyes were immediately drawn to you, as you were the youngest, and seemed to be around my age."
This whole conversation was happening right next to my car and I wanted to get to know this girl. If for no other reason, than to just have a real friend in the group of older ladies.
"Wendy, do you have any place you need to be? I mean, I was just thinking that instead of getting to know each other out here in the parking lot, maybe we could go somewhere and have a glass of wine, or coffee? And we could just chat."
With a bright smile, "I'd love that".
So, that's what found us sitting in a dimly lit little bar with a glass of white wine sharing an order of deep-fried cheese curds.
"This is nice and cozy. I never would have found it. It's kind of tucked away from everything."
"Yeah, I kind of stumbled upon it a few weeks ago. Some nights they have amateur night. People sing, some play a variety of instruments, and a few even try to tell jokes. Some are pretty good."
"Have you ever got up and played?"
"No. I kind of figured that since I'm getting paid, as little as it is, that I'm not an amateur anymore."
We chatted. Wendy had such a soothing voice that was soft and tender.
She grew up in a small farming community about an hour away and just recently moved to where she's living. She said that she was tired of the small-town stuff and wanted to experience a bigger city. So in all reality, I was her first friend. The more she talked about growing up the more I liked her. She was reserved and kind of quiet. I guess like me.
I thought it was pretty funny... first Lisa and now Wendy coming from small farming communities. Maybe I'll tell her about Lisa later. Well, maybe not everything.
Wendy lived in a one-bedroom apartment that was about 15 minutes from here. That put her about 25 minutes from where I lived. She worked in a husband-wife dentist's office with four dental hygienists. She handled appointments, billings, and insurance paperwork. Wendy grinned when she said that got her teeth cleaned for free.
We both shared how we wound up here. Like so many things it was through a friend of a friend and finally to a person who attended the performances quite frequently. It was he who suggested that Wendy would be an excellent candidate for the empty oboe chair to Maestro.
We both got tears as I shared the story about my grandfather. Teaching me and playing for him on those bad days, and finally playing at his funeral.
Wendy shared how she had found her passion for the oboe.
It also started in grade school. The grade school held an assembly in the gymnasium that featured the high school band. During the assembly members from each instrument played a brief solo: flute, clarinet, saxophone, and finally the oboe. That was when Wendy fell in love with the soothing, and relaxing sound.
Her parents found a used oboe at a garage sale.
The first few days Wendy just explored the sounds that were made as she manipulated the numerous keys. Soon, and without any prior music experience, she was putting together notes forming little tunes strictly from her head. And then into songs. Her parents knew that she had a special talent. A gift.
Even though her parents weren't that well off, they somehow managed to arrange for some private lessons, even at that early age. In High school, she immediately achieved 'first chair' in the oboe section. The only freshman ever to have attained that coveted spot.
She caught the attention of a retired oboe musician, who took her under her wing and developed Wendy's talent, bringing out the hidden emotional side of her playing. Telling her parents that Wendy had a gift and that it would be her pleasure to spend time with her at no cost to them.
The mentoring continued until a number of months ago when her health began to fade until she passed away. And just like with my grandfather, she played at her funeral. That brought tears. This time, it was me who reached across the table for her hand to comfort her. I was rewarded with a warm smile.
Wendy wasn't into high school sports, for the same reason that I wasn't.... Not 'athletically talented'. It saddened me when she said that she was so uncoordinated that whenever teams were picked, she was always the last one picked.
She also hated PE showers. As I told her my story she just reached across the table and took my hand into hers and with the warmest smile, "I
totally
know how you felt. That must have been hard."
The touch of her hand to mine sent a wave of genuine warmth and caring. In this short amount of time, she was growing on me. Can something like that happen so quickly? But then I remembered the first few moments after meeting Lisa and sitting and sharing her fries with me.
So, it became a regular thing that after each rehearsal and performance that we wound here and sitting across the table from each other. Our talks were becoming more personal. We were a lot alike. Like me, she always preferred to stand in the corner rather than be out with others. Her oboe became her world.
She didn't have a boyfriend. And then with a cute smile, "Or a girlfriend."
I had to grin. I know that she was just being cute, and didn't mean anything by it. Still.
I told her about my friends Lisa and Vickie. Well, not the complete story. Wendy thought it was so wonderful that I was able to reconnect with my freshman roommate.
Time went on and we kept meeting at the little bar. I didn't know if Wendy wanted to get together for like a day-thing or not. I looked forward to each of our get-togethers and I knew that she was too. At the start of each rehearsal, our eyes would find each other in the crowd of musicians and we'd each send a warm smile, that wordlessly said, 'Hi. At times I saw the older ladies watching our wordless exchanges and smiled.
Then fate entered the picture.
The apartment bulletin board next to my mailbox suddenly had a new flier about an outdoor concert a couple of towns over featuring their city orchestra the coming weekend. Admission was whatever donation you felt like giving. Just bring your own lawn chairs and refreshments. Perfect.
Wendy was excited when I told her about it. And then when I asked, "Want to go... together?". I was blinded by the smile as she reached across the table, took my hands into hers, and said, "Yes... I'd love to go there with you."
It was a nice warm and comfortable day with just a bit of an overcast. When Wendy opened her door I was once again blinded by her smile. She wore a loose light blue tank top. The pair of white shorts came about mid-thigh showcasing her smooth legs. The whole outfit made her look like a little pixie. Kind of reminded me of my other pixie friend.
I was dressed about the same. I could have worn an elastic tube top but I figured being in the sun all day my little boobs would really like some air flow instead of being all scrunched up.
The concert setup was pretty nice. It was almost like a bowl. The orchestra was at the bottom and was surrounded by gentle grassy hills on three sides. We got there early enough for a spot directing in front about 100 feet away. As we were getting situated, we were each leaning over adjusting our chairs and getting comfortable.
Suddenly, and at the same time, we looked over and down each other's billowing open top. We froze. Wendy's little breasts were like two miniature cupcakes topped off by light pink nipples. I felt my face flush in my embarrassment.
Gathering my composer.
"Sorry Wendy."
"Alice, there's nothing to be sorry about. Their just boobs. And we're just a pair of girls."
I could have added, 'Well in your case they're more than 'just boobs'. In your case, they're cute little breasts with nice pink nipples'.
Fortunately, my brain clicked in before my mouth did. Still, I blushed at her carefree attitude. Once again, she reminded me of my other pixie friend. This girl was growing on me and her casual attitude told me that the same thing was happening to her.
Even with the slight overcast, we knew that our shoulders and upper backs needed some sunblock.
