go somewhere,” Ben said, still refusing to look at her. “And you will not be welcome back in this house. We are done, Rachel.”
“No, no, no,” she said as she began to cry again. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”
“Go to your parents’.”
“I can’t,” she said, still whimpering and sobbing. “I don’t want to go there… I want to be at home with you, like I should be.”
“This is not your home anymore,” he said. “This will never be your home again.”
She was an emotional wreck. He peeked back, and she had fallen on the floor. She was propped against the wall and crying hysterically. Emotions always got the best of Ben; he hated to see even his enemies in this type of pitiful display. This time, though, he felt nothing. No remorse and no sympathy. He had given in so many times because he did not want to see her hurt, even when she had pained him. It would go on no longer.
She cried and wailed, now laying in the fetal position. Instead of walking down to comfort her as he always did, he just walked upstairs, never looking back.
3: And Silent He Was
Quia pi-us es!
Translated to: Thou art merciful. The last line of Requiem.
The audience erupted in applause. Dwight turned to them, bowing to recognize their appreciation for yet another work of art he had just displayed in this rural, cultureless town, all the while embracing the implied notion that he was, in fact, a big fish in this small pond. He then moved over, pointing with his entire hand toward the choir, which drew more applause. Ben stood there, enjoying the moment, but realizing that this six-month preparation process had just culminated with a production that lasted slightly less than one hour. He always dealt with depression once something like this ended.
In college he acted in both stage productions and film, so he stood there recalling the feeling of life slowing down when a project like that ended. For him, it was never a good feeling; he missed the hustle and bustle of going non-stop to achieve a goal, so the thought of summer approaching with nothing to keep him busy except for work proved deflating. And now that Rachel was out of the picture, he expected to have more time on his hands. At least he could finally spend the time focusing on how to make himself happy.
The house lights turned on and the audience began moving to the lobby. An announcement played over the speakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for attending tonight’s Freeden Community Chorus performance of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Requiem. We invite all of you to join us now for a reception in the lobby.”
Dwight had already worked his way into the audience, taking compliments that blew his head up like a hot air balloon. He loved every minute of the attention he was getting.
Ben walked to the backstage area to grab his phone and keys from a bench in the dressing room. Dr. Colin Johnson, a fellow bassist and well-respected seventy-two-year-old local doctor who was nearing retirement, approached him. “We did well, I’d say!”
Ben nodded in affirmation while grabbing his things from the bench. “We did indeed.”
“You almost sounded like you knew what you were doing,” he said.
Ben laughed. “And we all know that’s only because you’re standing right next to me practically telling me what to do.”
“Now, now, give yourself some credit,” he said. “You’ve come a long way since the beginning.”
“Again, I have you to thank for the guidance.”
He patted Ben on the back. “Hopefully we can do it again in the fall. You were a good addition to our bass section, my friend.”
“Well I’ve always wanted to be a part of the community chorus, just finally made the time for it after Dwight asked me about fifteen times.”
He chuckled while he, too, grabbed his belongings. “Well, you better sing with us while you can,” he said. “Rumor has it Dwight may be retiring from the school and the community chorus, too.”
“What?” Ben asked, surprised. “Dwight didn’t tell me, I would have remembered if he had.”
“Yes, he’s been teaching for thirty years and directing this choir for almost the same amount of time, maybe more. And of course, as you know, he serves as music director and organist at Freeden Baptist. From what I’ve heard, he plans to give that more attention in the days ahead.”
“I had not heard that.”
Selfishly, Ben did not want Dwight to retire. They were, of course, friends, but in addition to their companionship, his musical mentorship proved great for Ben and he had extended his range considerably since working with him. But his retirement would be an even bigger loss for this chorus -- and for this town, for that matter. They could surely find someone to fill the role, but it was hard to believe that anyone would give the effort to this thriving yet small, local chorus like Dwight did. He and Ben had bonded quickly once they began working together, but he had not mentioned anything about retiring. He wondered if it were simply a rumor that perhaps sparked about this time every year when the concert was over and summer was approaching.
“You staying for the reception, Dr. Johnson?”
He walked toward the door, and turned back to Ben before exiting. “No, sir, early start tomorrow.” He winked. “Take care of yourself.”
Most choir members had already left the dressing room to socialize at the reception, so Ben walked to the lobby to join them.
Dwight continued to work the crowd and take in all compliments that attendees sent his way. Ben wanted to talk to him, pay him his own respects for another tremendous production, but all the old ladies in town were so enamored by him that Ben recognized he would simply have to wait. Ben walked closely by him and heard a bit of it. Kathy Thompson, chair of the Freeden Town Beautification Committee, said, “Dwight, I think you just make ‘em sound better every time!”
Julie Patterson, chair of the Freeden Baptist Finance Committee said just after Ms. Thompson spoke, “Well, Kathy, we get to hear him every Sunday!”
It amazed Ben how many people loved him for his music and ability, but if the man ran for political office in the local elections, he would be slaughtered. One time over lunch, Ben heard an elderly lady say, “Elton John might be going to hell for being gay, but I still love his music!” Likewise, people just could not get over Dwight’s sexuality. He was gay, and that was different. It hurt Ben to know how people felt about Dwight, because the little old ladies and others that often paid him compliments for his work at the concert hall and church would be the first to drag him through the mud behind his back.
Ben went over for a glass of wine at the bar, and saw Terri standing there with her husband, Shawn.
“Terri,” Ben said, smiling as he approached them.
“Ben!”
He shook her husband’s hand. “Shawn, so good to see you.”
“And you too,” Shawn replied in his subtle, soft-spoken way.
“How’s the baby
