The Blue Note

The Blue Note


Lars pulled an armchair towards the mahogany Kohler piano. The chair rattled loudly, echoing off the bare white walls and the polished floor tiles. Oops, Lars thought. Catherine shrugged and smiled. Even though they would go to the music room almost every Thursday afternoon, Lars could not remember to avoid making that loud noise with the chair.

“Wait, I’m not tuned with you yet,” Lars said, strumming a chord after he pulled his Yamaha out of the guitar bag. Catherine was already warming up on the piano. She played a G Mixolydian scale up and down the keys, her slender fingers gliding across.

“Oh, sorry baby. Here’s an E,” Catherine said, pressing repeatedly a low note to her left. Lars adjusted the peg of the topmost string. Likewise, he tuned the rest of the strings with the piano.

“Okay. I’m set, Cat. Can we do that little Latin track we did last time? It’s in A minor.”

Catherine nodded, smiled, then pulled her black hair back and tied it behind her head in a bun. She started off with the stubby chords, her head slightly nodding to the rhythm. Lars squinted his eyes, gently bit his lip, and tapped his left foot to the staccato. He let Catherine complete the intro and waited for his cue. Then he joined her in the music.

Lars, plucking three strings at a time, harmonized his chords with the ones Catherine was playing. After two more repetitions, Lars launched into a solo improvisation. He closed his eyes and let his fingers do the singing.

Rapture. Lars developed a melody consisting of easy, prolonged notes that smoothly flowed from one note to the next. The melody was soothing; the melody was Latin. Soon the music possessed him. His fingers rapidly traversed the guitar neck end to end. With his eyes still closed, his eyebrows furrowed and his cheek twitched as he grimaced unconsciously to the maddening pace his solo was taking. Suddenly he held one dissonant note and bent the string upwards, the note languidly rising in pitch—his right shoulder tightened and rose along with the dissonant blue note until it was resolved.

Lars loved that trick. The blue note always tickled him in a spot he could never pin down where. Maybe it was because the blue note itself couldn’t be pinned down; it lies ambivalently between two notes that properly belong in a scale, and it could be resolved equally towards one or the other.

After a couple of minutes of improvising solo, Lars slowed and toned his volume down to give way to Catherine. They took turns soloing. At one point they moved on to a different track, with Catherine leading the transition. They shared in the music like this for a couple of hours until 4 pm. Catherine had to go to class so they stopped.

They walked along the corridors to Catherine’s solfege class in the third floor of the adjoining building. They held hands along the way and didn’t say anything until they reached the classroom. They were early so they stood outside the door.

“This is me here, baby. Take care. Call me as soon as you get home, okay,” Catherine said. She turned to Lars and kissed him.

“I’ll wait with you here until Sir Andrew arrives,” Lars said.

“No, go on ahead. It’s a long way to Valenzuela and the train might be very crowded if you go later. I can wait inside. The girls are probably inside already anyway. Take care, baby. Call me.”

“All right, I will.”

                                                              ***

Leaving early didn’t make any difference, Lars thought.

It was only 4:35 pm but the LRT was very crowded already. It was a hot afternoon but it was even hotter inside the train. Hell, he thought, taking his iPod out and plugging on the earphones. He switched it on to his swing-bebop-Latin playlist. Perfect. Anything to counter the heat, the sweat, and the horrible view of low and forlorn buildings grayed by the city’s smoke.

Lars finally arrived at the jeepney terminal in Monumento, after passing through a gloomy mall (malls are supposed to be bright so people won’t mind losing their money, he thought).

Feeling a bit refreshed now after a can of Coke and a few Sinatras, Lars stood in line for his ticket. 

        “…you just say the words and we’ll beat those birds down to Acapulco bay…”

Lars sang the lines softly to himself. It suddenly occurred to him that he and Catherine, in the time that they had been together, had never really written a song. They did fit perfectly in spontaneous jammings just like this afternoon but it just escapes him why they couldn’t write songs.

They would always talk about their ideas for songs. He remembered one time when he and Catherine got started on a song they wanted to present to their music club in school. But it got heavily modified by their peers. They shouldn’t have played it for them before the song was finished.

He remembered playing a lot of gigs for wedding receptions and debut parties with Catherine. They both thought it was a good opportunity to play a song they had written. So they tinkered with a few incomplete stanzas and riffs for some time but in the end, it all failed to come together as one complete song.

But isn’t love the greatest inspiration, Lars wondered. He remembered wooing Catherine with songs, but it was always another musician’s song. He sang The Way You Look Tonight during their first date. He played his rendition of Your Song when they celebrated their first month together. But he had not written a single song for Catherine, not even for their anniversary two weeks ago. In fact, the idea had not entered his mind until now. Why couldn’t he ever write a song for Catherine?

                                                          ***

The sun hung low in the sky, and everything was orange.

Lars settled himself down inside the jeepney and expected the usual easy ride through the wide, asphalt tollway. He was seated behind the driver. With the wind rushing into the jeepney at 65 kilometers per hour, it would have been perfectly comfortable but for the noise of the jeepney’s loud, rattling exhaust pipe. But Lars had his earphones on so it didn’t bother him much.

The wind and the smooth road almost lulled him to sleep. He was about to close his eyes when he noticed the girl who was seated in front of him.

Suddenly, all drowsiness left Lars and the wind was nothing more now than the ruffling in his hair.

The girl had long, black hair with streaks of deep, deep red and Lars liked the way she collected and held her hair on her shoulder to avoid bothering the lady next to her who was asleep. She was turned sideways and was looking out the window. She’s bound to fall asleep with the wind on her face like that, Lars thought amusingly. He looked at her eyebrows that were perfectly trimmed, gradually thinning out towards her temple. He liked the way the bridge of her nose rose smoothly from between her eyes. He noticed how her soft chin balanced her high cheekbones and pronounced jaw.

But it was on her mouth that his eyes lingered. She had soft plump lips that half-pouted and seemed to be always puckered for a kiss. And what if…

The girl then suddenly turned her head away from the window and looked towards Lars’s direction. Their eyes met for a moment; his mind went blank. Her eyes looked sleepy but they seemed to hold his gaze. Then he felt overcome with embarrassment and felt a little flushed on the face. Shying away from the girl’s eyes, Lars looked down.

Lars heaved a sigh and was grateful for the air. He realized that he was holding his breath from the moment he met the girl’s sleepy gaze.

Later on, when Lars got off the jeep just three blocks away from where the girl got off before him, he was whistling a tune.

After dinner, he went to his room to practice his daily routine of scales but he was distracted by the tune he had in his head. After a few minutes, he dropped practice altogether and played the tune on his guitar instead.

He was so engrossed playing around with the new tune that he forgot to call Catherine up before he went to sleep.

                                                            ***

It had been a week since Lars last jammed with Catherine; a week since Lars last saw that girl with the streaks of red hair and a sleepy gaze.

Lars didn’t jam with Catherine this afternoon. Catherine had a practical exam in solfege coming so she spent Thursday afternoon rehearsing instead. They went to the piano room where Lars took a seat at the back and watched Catherine rehearse. Catherine stood in the front holding a musical sheet.

“Just shake your head if you think I sang any note flat, okay?” Catherine said, her beaming smile easily radiated to where Lars was slouching.

“Okay, baby. Hit me,” Lars replied. He couldn’t help but be transfixed at this sweet and bubbly girl that could never be reduced by the hot and lazy afternoon. He couldn’t help but smile, in spite of himself.

“All right, here goes!”

Lars shook his head only twice, at which Catherine mockingly frowned every time. She is such a sweet girl, Lars thought. And she’s mine. My sweet and pretty Catherine.

An hour later, Catherine nearly mastered her exam piece. She had painstakingly repeated each part that she thought she was not confident with. She checked practically every note she sang one by one on the piano. Lars never had to shake his head again. But after an hour, Lars got bored.

He rested his elbow on the arm desk, put his chin on his hand, and gazed outside the window. He remembered that it was in an afternoon like this exactly a week ago that he first saw that girl in the jeep. By this time, Lars had a good idea where that girl lived. He had chanced upon the same girl on the jeep twice since last Thursday. He also knows now where she studied—a patch on her uniform indicated that she went to MCU, the university located just across Edsa from the jeepney terminal.

Lars had seen the girl three times now, but he flinched each time his eyes met hers. I will not look away again the next time I see her, Lars thought. Maybe if he would not look away, they might spend the whole trip just looking at each other. Or maybe she would smile and then they could talk. Either way that will be a great way to spend an afternoon...

Lars didn’t hear Catherine calling him. He realized he was alone in the room now. “Shit,” he said to himself. He rushed to the door. But as soon as he turned the knob, “Hey!” Catherine shouted, suddenly opening the door from the outside. When she saw Lars’s face turn white, she roared with laughter. Lars laughed with her as soon as his heart stopped jumping out of his chest.

“You were so lost in your thoughts, I left you to them,” she said, “Don’t worry, whoever she is, I’m sure she loves you, too.” She winked playfully and wrapped her arm around his. Then she inserted one earpiece of her iPod into Lars’s right ear. She smiled at him, adding more sunshine to the warm afternoon.

“Haven’t you ever fancied dyeing your hair red?” Lars asked.

“What? Red? Are you out of your mind Lars? That would be hard to match with clothes,” Catherine said. “Why, you don’t like my hair?” Catherine pouted her lips in mock apprehension.

Lars just smiled and kissed her. He didn’t answer. She’s right, I must be out of my mind, Lars thought.

                                                            ***

Glasses clinked that night at the birthday party of Lars’s sister.

Since it was not his party, Lars was supposed to stay downstairs and receive the latecomers. The party was in the roof deck so everyone was busy upstairs except him—his sister was entertaining her guests, his dad was drinking with the men, and his mom was having cocktails with the ladies around the buffet table. The maids were busy in the kitchen cleaning up and refilling the food trays.         

The doorbell rang. “Can you get that?” Lars shouted so that his voice could reach the kitchen where the maids were. Nobody answered. The doorbell rang again. “Hey?” Lars called again but got the same result. He sighed in exasperation, put down his guitar, and slowly rose from slouching on the sofa. He was watching an Eric Clapton concert on DVD and playing along with the songs. Gladys has got to pay me for playing butler on her birthday tonight, Lars thought as he made his way to the door. Before he reached it, the doorbell rang one more time. 

“Coming!” Lars called out to the impatient guest. When he opened the door, he could not believe his eyes. It was the girl from the jeep.

“Good evening. Is Gladys in?” she asked softly but firmly in a voice that was deep for a female. She was wearing a laced white tank top and jeans. She had on a little makeup, which accented her lips and intensified her eyes. Oh God, why didn’t I put on something more presentable than this shirt, Lars thought.

“Do I have to ring the doorbell again?” the girl asked.

“Oh, sorry,” Lars replied after clearing his throat. “Sorry, miss…?”

“Jamie, just Jamie. Umm, I didn’t bring a jacket and it’s kinda getting cold out here…”

“Oh sorry! Sure, come in, miss. Gladys is upstairs with the guests. Come in.” I will not flinch, must not flinch, Lars thought.

“You said miss again. It’s just Jamie.”

“Oh sorry, Jamie.”

“Could you say something else except sorry?” But she was smiling when she said this. She smiled at me, Lars thought, God she smiled at me and I’m practically talking with her.

Lars let Jamie walk ahead of him as he showed her the way. He noticed how her tight jeans would clutch on to her long legs each time she took her measured stride.
When they reached the roof deck where Jamie mingled with her friends, Lars did not go downstairs anymore. He took a bottle of beer and joined his dad’s table with his uncles and neighbors. He took care not to drink more than a bottle. From time to time, he glanced at the next table where Jamie was. Once, twice, their eyes met and she smiled each time. Lars smiled back.

Lars then noticed his sister passing by Jamie’s table to mingle; Gladys was doing a tough juggling act entertaining her guests. He had finished his beer so he excused himself from the men and took his opportunity at the next table. Gladys saw Lars approaching and she called him and introduced him to her friends from the church theater group that she had just joined a couple of months ago. Julius, Bea, then some more names which Lars easily forgot were enumerated by Gladys. Then Gladys introduced Jamie. Lars looked at Jamie, and they both smiled. Jamie offered her hand to Lars. Lars caught on and shook her hand and they both laughed. Then Lars sat down at that table beside Jamie.

“You know each other?” Gladys asked, amazed that her friend was already laughing with her brother.

“Your friends are my friends, sister dear,” Lars answered. He took a fresh bottle from the beer case nearby. “No, I answered the door when she arrived.”

“Yeah, after fifteen years,” Jamie said. The three of them burst laughing.

“Yeah, that’s my brother, King Lethargy,” Gladys said. “Wait, you guys have to excuse me. I have to check on my classmates at the next table.” She pecked Jamie on the cheek, took her wine glass, and walked away. At last, Lars thought.

The beer cases were filling up with empty bottles and Gladys’s theater friends were getting louder and louder as was everyone else. But Jamie wasn’t drinking much; the beer bottle in front of her was only half-empty.

“I see you’re halfway to your ninth bottle,” Lars said.

“Hush, that’s just my first. I really don’t drink much,” Jamie said.

“Me neither.”

“Really now? If I’m not mistaken, that’s your father in the next table right? The one beside the pile of empty bottles.”

Lars laughed. “Just because my father drinks doesn’t mean I do, too. I think Gladys is the one who inherited that.”

“Yeah, you're probably right. I’ve seen her drink.”

“So you go to MCU? I think I’ve seen you in your uniform at the jeep terminal.”

“Yeah, I do. How about you, where do you go to school? I’ve seen you, too, but I couldn’t tell just from your white polo, your black pants, and your guitar.”

“UST. Music major.”

“A musician, wow. I’m taking accountancy.”

“An accountant, whoa.”

“Don’t you always have your iPod plugged on?”

“Yeah, can’t live without it. I plug it on almost every time, except in class.”

“Really. Do you know that plugging on earphones for just an hour multiplies the amount of bacteria in the ear seven hundred times?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No, it’s true. That makes your ear an ecosystem.” They laughed. “Wait, you’re a musician. Can you sing now? The guy that’s been hogging the videoke is clearly drunk,” Jamie said.

“I sing only if there’s an accompaniment. My guitar’s downstairs. Come on, I’ll sing you something I wrote myself.”

“Really? Your own song?” They excused themselves from the table that was getting louder and rowdier by the minute and by the bottle. They went downstairs.

Lars found his guitar on the sofa where he left it.

He also realized that he left the DVD playing when he went upstairs with Jamie. But before he turned the player off, he noticed that Eric Clapton was still playing and that he was sustaining a dissonant blue note. A trick Lars loved.

Jamie sat beside him on the sofa. Lars could feel her warm, bare shoulder brushing on his shoulder and her leg pressing against his leg. His mouth ran dry and his breath began to come in in quick, silent gasps. His heart clogged his throat.

Lars tuned his guitar, starting with the topmost string then working his way down the rest of the strings. His fingers were trembling slightly and his palms were sweaty.
Lars strummed a chord.

“Okay Jamie.” Lars cleared his throat twice. Jamie smiled at him with a sleepy gaze then tucked her elbows in to listen. “I’m ready.” Jamie inched closer.

But before Lars could start, something vibrated in Lars’s pocket. It felt like a tremor of the earth rather than a vibration of a mobile phone. One message received, it said. “Oh sorry, Jamie, “ Lars said, fumbling with his pocket. He unlocked the keypad and pressed the Read button.

“Hi baby! Had a tough day. I miss you.” It was Catherine.