Short Stories

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Scott, Mark, and I were in the conservatory lobby with our saxophones at 10 o’clock for our rehearsal just as planned. The only question was where Jodie was. We waited.

“I say we give her five more minutes and leave.” Scott said. We know our parts. There’s not much point in rehearsing if she’s not here.”

I agreed. I felt like no rehearsal was better than rehearsing without Jodie- or with her for that matter. Our saxophone quartet was terrible. Every time our coach heard us he lectured us on how inexplicable it was that four conservatory musicians could not have a basic understanding of how the music should go. Our rehearsal time was painful for me, not only because of musical issues, but because of her.

She was a talented musician. Her beautiful, resonant tone and her intuitive expression were much more than I possessed. But she wasn’t the type of person I wanted to be playing in a chamber ensemble with. She seemed to think that rhythmic accuracy was unimportant if the music’s ‘message’ came through. Then she would verbally jump all over me about all the details of the piece. She couldn’t take criticism although she could dish it out. She would often come to our rehearsals late, sometimes as we were packing up and offer some lame excuse about oversleeping. Lately, she wasn’t even showing up at all.


Later that day, Scott and I were walking back to the dorm together when Jodie came running across the street.

“How could you just take off?” she screamed at both of us. “This quartet is important to me, and I want us to sound good. If you had just waited five minutes, I’d have been there. Instead you wasted our rehearsal time.”

Scott and I looked at each other.

“We actually did wait for about 10 minutes.” Scott said.

“Well, I don’t like the way this quartet works together, and I’m going to talk to Dr. Cohn about playing with someone else next semester.” Jodie said.

She stormed off. After she was gone, Scott turned to me and said, “I’ve had enough of her. I think I’ll talk to Dr. Cohn too.”

I hated Jodie, but I hated the way I felt about her even more. I’d never felt that way about someone. I’d just have to see her across the street, and I’d feel like picking up a large rock to throw at her. I felt as if my entire school experience was a waste of time because of one musician. Even in my lessons, Dr. Cohn would make some comment on the state of the quartet’s musicality and on how it was my job as their leader to get them into shape. He had appointed me as the group’s leader and would act as if I was personally responsible for its lack of musicality. Even the good things that I enjoyed were tainted by my feelings about this girl.

I ate lunch alone in my room that afternoon. I couldn’t help thinking about our quartet. I loved playing music, especially chamber music. I wanted desperately for our group to sound good. I put my sandwich down, and picked up my Bible and read “As far as possible, live at peace with everyone”.

“Well, I’m doing my part.” I laughed to myself.

Another part of me thought, “Am I really?”

I closed the Bible and started to get my things ready for the practice room. Then I stopped. Then I sat down on my bed and started,

“Father, you know I hate Jody and would love to see her get hit by a truck or something. But, Lord, I ask you to look after her health and her happiness and make her prosper. I also ask for your guidance with the quartet and that you’ll make our relationships and our music. Amen.”

I prayed the same prayer every day until our performance. I felt a softer attitude towards Jody and began to notice some wonderful things about her personality, and I felt more tolerance for her lateness and outbursts during our rehearsals. Things were getting better, I thought.

Then a few weeks later Scott, Mark, and I waited in the lobby for fifteen minutes again waiting for Jodie and left grumbling about the upcoming concert. We decided to reschedule for the next day. I went back to my room and left Jodie a message.

I went about the rest of my day- practice sessions, rehearsals, classes. I felt that old surge of anger as reflected on another missed rehearsal. I forced myself to pray for Jody before I went to bed. I honestly didn’t care about her, but I knew that God did.

I was abruptly awakened at two in the morning by the phone.

“Hello?” I said.

“Hello, Cindy? This is Jodie. Sorry to call you so late. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t make it to rehearsal tomorrow. I have a doctor’s appointment.”

I was annoyed at the late phone call, but I managed to say, “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

I was ready to hang up and go back to sleep when she said, “I know it’s really late, but I want to say I’m sorry for everything. I know it hasn’t been a good quartet, and I just wanted to apologize for my attitude towards you guys and missing all those rehearsals.”

“Is everything ok?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve been going through some things. I’ve been diagnosed as bi-polar manic depressive. I’ve had some mood swings but I should be ok once my medication’s regulated. “

I was stunned. I never could have imagined that there was something that seriously wrong. Suddenly, everything made sense.

“Oh, Jody. I’m so sorry about the way I’ve treated you. What about my attitude? I always act like the music is the most important thing in the world.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She said. “Hey would you like to have lunch sometime?”

We talked and laughed for hours until we finally said good night.

We performed our piece the next week. It wasn’t up to the standards of the conservatory and wasn’t my most fulfilling performance ever, but I couldn’t be happier with the new friendship.

When Jodie called me a year later to invite me to her graduation recital I was overjoyed that she thought of me.

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