Disorder Chapter 1 (rough draft)

There wasn't much room in the world for men like Colin. A specialist in a field few cared to enjoy anymore. What was it all for? Why had he done all of this, worked for all of these years? He remembered his letter of acceptance from Harvard, tucked neatly away somewhere in a file cabinet. He posessed a brilliant mind. He could have gone into any field he wanted. But he chose the one the seemed to have chosen him. Not a day passed by in which there was not some sort of music in his life. Colin practiced every day that he possibly could. To him what he did was not practice, but performance. Over the years his talent had surpassed the need for rote and dogged repetition of the fundamentals. He thought of this as he tinkered through some old books of Chopin mazurkas.

But, he needed to pack. It was not a long ordeal. The last several years he toured for eleven months at a time and lived from suitcase to suitcase. It seemed as though he would unpack only to repack again. He laid all his pre-folded clothing carfully into his suitcase. When he had finished and his suitcase was shut, he noticed that he could hear the ticking of the living room clock. This was not as much a testament to the precision of his hearing as it was to the emptiness of his condo. A bitter lonliness prickled through him. He had to get on the road again, that would be the cure for it. O'Hare to Heathrow, first-class.

Ch. 13

Anne took off her heels as she walked back to the women's dressing room. Sandy caught up with her in the hall.

"Are you crazy?" Sandy exclaimed with bewilderment.

"What?"

"You just turned down drinks with Colin Bainbridge."

"I'm glad you were stalking me that whole time. " Anne joked. Sandy ignored the comment and continued.

"I don't think my previous statement about your sanity needs clarification."

"Sandy, this is just night one of several important concerts. I need sleep to play well, and I need to play well. This could mean a lot for my career. Drinks can wait."

Sandy let out a bemused laugh as the entered the now empty dressing room. "He looks like a model. You do realize that don't you?"

"I'm not blind." Anne said as she put on a pair of sneakers.

"You know what this means?" Sandy perked up with a fresh thought.

"No. What?" Anne grudgingly indulged Sandy.

"It means that you have to invite him out for drinks on Monday!" Sandy jumped up and down and clapped excitedly at her own idea.

Anne looked up from tying her shoes with significantly less enthusiasm. "I don't think so."

"Don't you think he's cute?"

"Yes, but I prefer to keep my professional relationships professional."

Ch. 12

After the concert Anne was exhilerated. There was a flood of people waiting backstage to congratulate her. First in line was Stuart.

"Anne...that was absolutely marvelous!" He beamed as he spoke and took both her hands in his "That was really the best I've heard it played in ages. Brava!" He kissed her on the cheek and she thanked him sincerely. There were probably twenty or so others who stood backstage and Anne greeted each of them warmly. They all had such wonderful things to say about her playing. It was almost too much for her to take. But, she remembered, this was why she loved to perform. It was love not for the praise, but to see how truly moved by music people were, in ways both great and intangible. Though Anne enjoyed the backstage attention, she hoped for its brevity. It was starting to get late. She knew the adrenaline flowing through her veins would keep her from getting to sleep, so she wanted to get to bed as early as possible. After all, she had two more concerts to get through.

Toward the back of the diminishing crowd Anne noticed two men standing who looked to be about her age, nearly half the age of most of the others. One of them was Colin Bainbridge, she recognized him instantly from all the CDs of his she owned. She couldn't help but wonder why he was there. They weren't supposed to meet until Monday. She wasn't prepared for a meeting like this. A nervous lump formed in her throat, her hands went clammy.

Colin was still deeply annoyed with Brian. He shuffled his feet and looked around the room without advancing.

"Well come on, let's go talk to her" Brian said under his breath, through gritted teeth.

"This whole thing was your idea! You talk to her!" Colin hissed back.

"Look I-" Brian stopped mid sentence. During their bickering Anne had approached them.

Her heart raced with nerves "You must be Colin Bainbridge." She wiped the sweat from her palm on the back of her dress, as non-chalantly as possible, before offering it to Colin. He had wonderfully soft hands and a firm grip. Life was lead in the little details for Anne, she always noticed things like that, and made careful note of all of them.

"Yes, I-I am" Colin began with an uncharacteristic stammer. "And this is my friend Brian." Colin shot a covert glare at Brian.

"Nice to meet you. Colin and I are old college buddies. Anyway, we just wanted you to know that we thought you did a great job tonight." Colin silently resented Brian for speaking on his behalf.

"Oh. Thank you very much." Anne and Colin's eyes met.

Colin spoke as he looked into her deep brown eyes. "I've never heard Mahler played quite that way before, and I don't imagine I ever will again. It was very moving." Anne felt her cheeks go red.

She nearly had to kick herself to respond, she was so overcome by his flattery. "That's very nice of you to say."

Anne was startled when Brian spoke again; she had forgotten he was there.

"Colin and I were wondering if you'd like to join us for a drink. You know, to celebrate the concert."

Colin felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach. Brian never failed to embarrass him.

"I'd love to, but I've got to get home early. I have two more of these concerts to get through. Have to get plenty of sleep. " She demurred.

Colin felt bittersweet relief flood over him. He spoke before Brian had the chance to. "That's quite alright. We won't keep you any longer. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise. " Anne tried to will away the blushing of her cheeks as their eyes again met.

"I'll see you Monday morning." Colin said shaking her hand.

"Yes. I look forward to it." There hands stayed clasped together for what seemed a moment longer than neccessary as Anne looked wonderingly at Colin. The two finally parted ways, both with smiles on their faces.

Ch.11

At intermission Brian turned to Colin.

"She's good."

"Yeah."

"We should go backstage after the show."

"What for?"

"To congratulate her, obviously."

"I can do that on Monday." Colin shifted uneasily in his seat.

"But on Monday we can't take her out for drinks."

"What? Us? Drinks? You're unbelievable."

"Oh, come on, I'm sure she'd be delighted."

"What makes you think she would want to join us for drinks?"

"For starters, if she's single...you." There was a long pause in conversation as Brian stared expectantly at a frowning Colin.

"Little old me, huh? These are quite the assumptions you've been making."

"As one man comfortable with his sexuality to another, you are a pretty attractive guy, and you're available."

Colin's eyebrows raised. "Who said I'm available?"

"You did."

"Oh no, I said I'm single. There's a difference."

Brian sighed loudly. "Or you could try having some fun. What made you so uptight, anyway?"

"Fine. We'll ask her out for drinks. But she's going to say no."

"Fine. You don't know what she'll say."

"I have a feeling."

"We'll see."

"We certainly will."

The lights dimmed for the second half. Colin was annoyed at Brian for trying to shove him head first back into the world of dating, not even two hours after they had met up again for the first time in years. Brian was annoyed with Colin for being so stubborn. All he wanted for his friend was for him to have some fun, and maybe find someone worthwhile along the way.

He remembered the first and last time he matched Colin up with a girl in college. Colin stayed with her for as long as he and Brian were roommates. Brian saw how it changed Colin, how happy he had been, almost as though he had a deeper sense of purpose in life. Colin was a great guy to be with ordinarily, but when he was in love, he was something to behold. The fire of his creativity and charm had burned just a little more brightly.

Colin looked over at Brian as the orchestra played a Mozart symphony. Colin thought he looked rather smug, sitting there with his arms crossed. He felt sure that Brian wanted nothing more than to secure him a few cheap thrills, so he could be in on all the details afterward. That was precisely what Colin didn't want. He had lived that life already, on the road, albeit briefly. And, in all the ugliness of the truth of being handsome, he could crawl back to that lifestyle any time he wanted, without Brian's help. He had the looks, the career, the money, and the charm. If he really wished to he could go anywhere, find a woman, switch on the charm, and let his soul melt away as he talked her in to bed. He had only had two one-night stands in his life, but they were at a time when he had felt even more of an empty shell of a man. They filled him with a bitter sense of self-loathing. What he needed now was someone to love. That thought scared him more than anything. The world of pain and loss he'd lived in for the past several years made him a more distant man. He wasn't sure that he could ever love again.

The thought of going backstage began to make him nervous. He looked over at Brian who was seemingly resolute in his smug attitude. Colin tried to shrug off his thoughts and went back to listening to the symphony.

Brian thought to himself that Colin had better get over himself in a hurry. He hoped for Colin's sake that Anne was single. There had been a moment as Colin looked at her that Brian thought he saw a spark in Colin's eyes that hadn't been present the last time their paths crossed.

Ch. 10

Colin had always listened to things intensely. Whether it was music or a partner in conversation, he invested a great deal of energy in observing. He had a separate kind of ferocity when it came to listening to music. As a teenager he checked scores out of the library and sat down with them open in front of him as he listened to recordings. He did this most often with piano music. On many occasions he listened to ten recordings of the same piece.

That night, during the Mahler, he sat there, in the darkness of the hall, rapt. There was no one there but he and the music. It was fascinating to him to watch the musicians play; the choreography of the string players' bows, the almost ritualistic movement of the percussionists from one instrument to another, the breathing of the wind players, it was all of endless interest to Colin. He had been watching Anne play for a time when he noticed her slip quietly off stage. He wondered why the principal trumpet player wasn't going to do the offstage solo.

Colin had heard the symphony before and had a vague recollection of the solo. His memory was re-awakened when Anne began to play it. A glorious sound wafted into the concert hall from some unseen farscape. It was ethereal, otherwordly. Some in the audience craned their necks in an attempt to see where it was coming from. It was masterful playing. The folk like melody of the trumpet spilled into the hall as golden thread from a spool into the gentle evening breeze. Colin's mind drifted to imaginings of a distant hapiness. He would be collaborating with the artist on Monday. He smiled at the thought.

Ch. 9

Colin walked into the lobby of the concert hall clad in his wool dress coat and a warm scarf. He had remembered his leather gloves this time. He scanned the room for Brian as he unwound the scarf from his neck. Brian spotted him first and walked up from behind. He put his hand on Colin's shoulder.

"Colin!"

"Brian! Good to see you!" Colin turned to shake his hand. "A goatee?" He remarked, looking at Brian's face.

Brian stroked his chin. "It makes me look sophisticated."

"Right." Colin said with a dubious nod.

"My wife says so."

"Is she here tonight?" Colin asked, looking around.

"No, she's still settling things up at the condo in New York."

"I see. So this is a guy's night out."

"Precisely." Brian stroked his goatee again.

"You know I'll never take you seriously if you keep doing that. You look kind of like a 12 year old with a glandular problem." Colin said, referring to the strange effect Colin's facial hair had on his boyish looks.

"Like I said, more sophisticated." The two laughed.

"I snagged us some good tickets. We'd better go claim our seats.

They both took programs from the usher as they entered.

"Hmm. Mahler." Colin commented, looking at the program.

"That sounded negative. Don't you like Mahler?"

Colin stuffed his scarf into a coat sleeve once they had gotten to their seats at the middle of the main floor.

"It was a pensive tone. I haven't listened to any Mahler in years." Colin flipped through the program. It contained three months worth of program information and was glossy and full of advertisements, much like a magazine. He turned to the list of musicians in the orchestra. Glancing at the names he noticed Anne Williams listed as the assistant principal trumpet. He recognized the name from the list of musicians participating in Ravinia for the summer. He would be accompanying her in July. He pointed it out to Brian.

"I'm accompanying her at Ravinia this summer. I'm also accompanying the concertmaster."

"Ravinia. That will be nice. Anne Williams, I wonder if she's attractive." Brian wondered aloud, scanning his own program.

Colin frowned, "I don't see how that matters."

"Are you single."

"Yes." Colin continued frowning.

"That's why it matters. We'll find out soon enough." Brian motioned to the stage, where musicians were starting to make their way on stage.

Colin imagined a dowdy, middle-aged woman with big glasses after Brian wondered whether or not Anne would be attractive. He wasn't sure why the image popped into his head. Perhaps there had been someone like that at Julliard. That must have been it, he thought. He looked up at the stage with a curiosity born from Brian's comment. What if she was beautiful and young? But what did it matter? Then again, he was lonely. Lonely but reluctant to start anew after recent circumstances. Still, he couldn't help but wonder, and kept his eyes trained on the brass section. Eventually a brown haired young woman made her way on stage, in amongst the men of the brass section. She was, in fact, the only female brass player in the orchestra, aside from a fill-in french horn player. Colin thought her quite pretty, and took notice of her slim figure, dressed all in black, as he watched her move to her chair. Another trumpet player said something to her and she smiled in response. It was an alluring smile, Colin found himself embarrassingly captivated by it. He smiled along with her unconscious of it.

"So that must be her." Brian said, watching Colin swiftly squelch the smile from his face in embarrassment. "She's pretty." Brian raised his eyebrows at Colin. Colin rolled his eyes before returning to reading his program.

"Still, that has nothing to do with anything." he spoke definsively "I hope your wife knows you behave this way in public."

"Uh huh." Brian smirked at Colin's definsiveness.

The lights in the concert hall lowered and the stage lights brightened as the orchestra tuned. Colin kept a self-conscious eye on Anne.

Ch. 8

After Anne was home and finished with practicing as much of the part as she could, she called Sandy.

"Hey Sandy, remember that call I got earlier, when you and I were talking?"

"Yes, and?"

"Jerry is sick again, so I'm filling in for him."

"Really?"

"Yes really!"

"So you get the whole post horn solo to yourself. That's exciting! And scary. Ooh, you're not scared are you? I'd be totally scared."

"I was a little nervous at first, but hey, I'm a professional."

"That's true. We all are."

It felt good to hear those words. They were all professionals, each and every one of them. Anne felt a little like she had the day she won the spot as assistant principal. All of her years of hard work were paying off, yet again.

"We are." Anne spoke reverently.

"I wish you all the luck in the world at rehearsal today, and for all the concerts."

"Thank you Sandy. I'd better get ready for rehearsal."

"Me too, bye."

"Bye." Anne wore a beaming smile. Tonight would be wonderful.

Ch. 7

Colin frowned at hearing his phone ringing. It was his home phone, not his cell phone, which did not often ring, and it had distracted him from his practice. He trudged forlornly to his kitchen phone and picked it up.

"Hello?" He said glumly.

"Hey Colin!" Colin knitted his brow trying to recognize the male voice at the other end of the line.

"I'm sorry, who is this?"

"It's Brian, your old college roommate!"

Colin raised an eyebrow, "Brian?!"

"That's right. My wife and I just moved to Chicago and I thought I'd get in touch with you."

"And what the hell are you doing in a town like this? New York got too boring for you?"

Brian chuckled. "Not exactly. I got an offer from a law firm here that I just couldn't pass up."

"That's great." Colin's mood lifted significantly, hearing from an old friend.

"I happen to have a couple tickets to the CSO tonight. I know it's a little last minute, but I was wondering if you'd like to join me. We can go out for drinks after."

"That sounds good to me. It'll be nice to catch up after all these years."

"Alright. Concert's at 7:30."

"I'll meet you there at 7."

Brian was Colin's first roommate at Julliard. He was a violinist from Wisconsin. Both had grown up in single child families and had their reservations about dorm living. But the two got along well and were fast friends. Colin was Brian's accompanist for both of his recitals. Eventually the pressures of the music world and pressure from his parents prompted Brian to transfer to NYU to study law. There seemed to be no love lost for Brian and he quckly became a successful intellectual property lawyer once he finished his degree. He passed the bar the first time, as he often brought up at parties. Colin was disappointed that Brian left music behind, but he knew his friend was happy. There are always those who can leave the music world without a tear shed or a backward glance. Brian was one of them; after selling his violin for a few thousand dollars he never picked up another. He had been a talented musician, even as a child, and he would always remember his musical life fondly, but he had no desire to return to it. Colin, on the other hand, could not fathom a life without the piano. To him it would have been akin to a life without air.

Ch. 7

Ch. 6

Anne had come out of her momentary panic by the time she had gotten to the front office. She walked in with her usual poise.

"Hello Anne."

"Hi Lucinda."

"I'll be back with the music for you in a second."

While Lucinda was out of the room Stuart Montrose walked in. He was the current director of the orchestra and would be conducting that weekend. He was a pleasant British gentleman of about 60, thin with grey hair. He wore a pair of half moon glasses, perpetually perched on the end of his narrow, sharp nose. His brown eyes sparkled.

"Anne, it's a pleasure to see you here." He said as he took her hand for one of his cordial yet limp handshakes. By then Lucinda had returned to her desk with the music.

"Sorry to interrupt, here's the music."

"Thank you." Anne took the music and turned back to Stuart. "I was wondering if I should come in early before rehearsal to discuss tempi. But, since you're here now...you don't mind talking about it right now, do you?"

"But of course, what concerns have you got?" He asked with a friendly pat on her shoulder.

"Well I was thinking, in the interest of simplicity, that I'd play the solo pretty much exactly the way Jerry was."

"Brilliant." He nodded in agreement.

"Okay, great. So then I shouldn't be doing much to cause you much worry."

"Me? Worry? Pish posh. I never worry when the music is in the hands of capable musicians such as yourself. I've got to go. I'll see you in a few hours." He gave Anne a fatherly wink and headed off for his office in a very upright gait. Anne breathed a sigh of relief.

Ch. 5

Franz Peter Schubert: Colin had been well-versed in the music since childhood, and well-versed in the man since high school. There was something so indescribable about Schubert's music. It was timeless with such preciously unfolded melodies interwoven with the tinge of sadness that ran throughout Schubert's life. Schubert died a young man, only 31. Younger even than Mozart at his death, yet nearly as prolific. He was a short, chubby man, plagued by an awkward shyness. When he fell in love with a woman above his station it seemed inevitable that he would end up alone. The Romantic era's preoccupation with love and longing showed itself in all of Schubert's music, especially in that of his more than 300 art songs. For as much longing as there was in his music, there was equal joy. Schubert never achieved any real fame in his lifetime, apart from his close circle of friends who loved to perform his music at parties. Instead he died in poverty and obscurity, his own brother, a lesser composer, putting his own name atop some of Schubert's works. He died from syphillis, stacks of his music hidden away, yet to be published.

Colin thought it a pity, as he meandered through a slow movement on the piano, that a great talent like Schubert came to such an unhappy end. Colin took his book of Schubert sonatas from the file next to the piano. He opened it to double check part of what he had memorized and found himself staring into the chubby bespectacled portrait of Schubert that graced the title page. After having spent so many years playing the man's music, it was a bit like looking at the portrait of an old friend, long since passed on, and of whom only clouded and distant memories remained. Colin's thoughts were disturbed by a ringing phone.

Ch.4

"How's the knee?" Sandy asked over the phone.

"Much better. I'm fully mobile now."

"Good. Canes are so unfashionable these days."

"I know you can't hear this, but I'm rolling my eyes." Just then Anne was beeped with an incoming call. "Ugh. I've got another call coming in. Can I call you back?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you at rehearsal."

"Okay, bye. Hello?"

"Hi Anne, it's Lucinda from the CSO office."

"Hi. What's up?"

"Jerry just called in sick so you'll be covering his part today in rehearsal, as well as in all of this weekend's concerts."

Anne's heart skipped a beat her chest tightened and her palms began to sweat.

"Oh. I hope it's nothing serious." She said after a pause.

"I haven't heard much about it. I've got the music here for you, if you want to pick it up early today."

"Yeah, I think I'll stop by early. Thanks."

"Sorry about this being so last minute. Thanks for being so good about it."

"Oh, it's no big deal. I'll be over in about a half hour or so."

"Okay. See you then. Bye."

"Bye." Anne flopped into a near by chair. She was still wide eyed and felt as though she had been hit by a ton of bricks. Contrary to what she had told Lucinda on he phone, this was a big deal.

Jerry, the Chicago Symphony's principal trumpet player was approaching retirement and had been suffering with bouts of various age-related illnesses. Anne was the assistant principal and she was expected to fill in for him at a moment's notice. She had filled in happily, and quite successfully before, but this time was different. This weekend the orchestra was playing Mahler. And it was not just any Mahler, it was the Mahler with the huge offstage trumpet solo. Jerry had been well for all the other rehearsals, so Anne was stepping in for the final rehearsal before the concert. The Posthorn solo, as Mahler called it, was a major solo for Anne to be taking over. Before could let the situation sink in, she was on her way to pick up the music.

She told herself not to worry about it as she drove. The solo is excerpted for almost every major orchestra's auditions. She had known it for years, and played it well in all the auditions she had taken. She had just never played it with an orchestra, in front of a live audience presumably filled with critics and season ticket holders. At the thought her heart rate again increased. Her clammy hands had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She took a deep breath. At least I'll be offstage for the solo, she thought to herself.

Ch. 3

Colin took a seat at his piano. He rubbed his hands which still felt sluggish after coming in from the cold. While playing through some scales, he looked past the piano and out the window on the far wall. It was then that he noticed the tiny flakes of snow that had started falling. He quit playing scales and played through the entire Bach concerto from memory. He felt distracted by the snow, or perhaps something else. He took a break for a cup of tea. not long after his tea bag sunk into the boiling water his cell phone rang in the next room. It was Margie.

"Colin dearie, I thought I'd just remind you about your rehearsal on Monday. Downtown at 10 a.m."

"I know Margie, thanks."

"Great. Just gotta make sure all my bases are covered. Bye bye."

"Bye."

Margie's tenacity was all at once amuzing and exasperating. Colin took his tea into the piano room. He looked at his piano from a distance. It was a beautiful Bosendorfer concert grand. Like all Bosendorfers it had several extra keys, extending the piano's lower range. They were covered by a little wooden door, closed until the keys were needed. Colin made sure to keep it in exquisite condition. He bought it in Texas, after he fell in love with it at the Van Cliburn piano competition. It posessed a warm, burnished, timbre that captivated Colin the first time he played it. He played no other instrument while he was in Chicago, but declined to have it shipped to other concert venues for fear of damaging it. It had begun to snow harder outside. Colin walked to the window to watch the gathering snow. After a few minutes Colin could no longer bear the lonliness of the silence surrounding him. He went back to the piano to work on Schubert.

Re-vamp: Chapter 2

Anne sat on her living room couch nursing her knee with a bag of ice.

"I've never met someone so young with such a bad knee." Her friend Sandy said jokingly.

"I don't have a bad knee. I just twisted it during that new stretch we learned today. That fill-in woman running our Pilates class is kind of a Nazi."

"Agreed."

"Did you look at the orchestra schedule for next week?"

"Yeah, Maestro Roberto is in town." Both women rolled their eyes at nearly the same instant.

"Speaking of Nazis..."

"Oh don't be so harsh. He isn't that bad. I think I detected an air of kindness in his voice the last time he yelled 'ey flauto, articulate' at me."

"Ooh," Anne winced as she moved her knee."Maybe he made a vodoo doll of me. You think you've got it bad, he gives us trumpets the evil eye before rehearsal has even started. I swear every time I look up from my music he's got that lazer-eyed look of death zeroed in on me."

"We can be thankful he's only here a week."

"You have to admit though," Anne said wistfully, "He does whip us in to shape."

"I suppose. I still prefer the kind ones. Don't you have an extra rehearsal this week?"

Anne was only half listening as she nursed her knee. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. I've got a rehearsal with some pianist for the summer music festival." She took the bag of ice off her knee and began to rub it gingerly.

"Some pianist?"

"I think the pain killers are starting to work. Well, he's not just some pianist." Anne limped to the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Isn't it that hot guy? What's his name?" Sandy called to the kitchen.

"Colin Bainbridge. You're awfully vain. There's a couple of his albums in my CD rack. See for yourself if he's hot." Anne limped back from the kitchen.

"Look under Janacek. It's all alphabetical."

"Janacek?" Sandy sounded dubious.

"Yeah, I had a thing for one of his piano sonatas a few years ago. So I bought a copy. Have a problem with that?"

"No. I just never thought of you as a Janacek person. Oh, there he is. Wow, he is hot. And, judging by this photo, no wedding ring!" Sandy winked at Anne.

Anne shook her head. "Must you sexualize everything? Besides, that picture is from like five years ago. He could have been married and divorced ten times over by now. I don't see what difference it makes to me. We're meeting for an hour and a half to go over two pieces that we won't even be performing until summer. What are you looking at me like that for?" Sandy had a goofy smile across her face.

"I just think it's funny that you're so defensive. I never said anything about anything."

"You implied plenty. You're always trying to play match maker with me. You know I'm not looking."

"You say that, but I know you're lonely."

"I'm not looking. Ow!" Anne grimaced and grabbed her knee. She had forgotten to limp while on her way to the couch.

"Whatever. All I'm saying is that he's hot."

"Mmm, hmm." Anne rolled her eyes.

"Well, I gotta get home and practice. You know Roberto, and those high standards of his."

"All too well. See you later. And stop looking at me like that!" Sandy laughed as she left Anne's house.

"Flute players." Anne said under her breath.