Brushed

By Joe Ducato

 

The great conductor’s eyes turned inward to a time before he was a skeleton in a bed. He dreamt about, remembered a boy; a run-a-way who, after wandering dark city streets for hours, found himself in an alley standing in front of a door that had the words “Swann Theater - Deliveries Only” painted on it. The boy stared at the door like it was Holy.

The scent of the night nurse’s perfume pulled him back. If he could’ve opened his eyes, he would have fallen in love. She never stayed long – just long enough to scribble something on her pad. When he knew she was gone, he returned to the alley.

The boy pushed the door. It opened, revealing a fat man sitting on a cargo trunk eating a sandwich. The man’s suspenders highlighted his unusually large gut which, between the suspenders, looked like a bowling ball wedged between 2 ski poles. The rest of the room was filled with dusty stage props.

“B’Jesus…,” the Buddha-like figure muttered, lowering the sandwich, “I thought that froze shut years ago.”

The boy studied the name stitched over the man’s shirt pocket.

“Ted,” the run-a-way lipped.

“That’s right. Caretaker now - just Caretaker. When I was kid, they said I was Well-Fed Ted. My daddy was an aristocrat. He was Well-Bred Ted and had high hopes I would be too, but I wasn’t. I was way more well-fed than well-bred. Now I’m Caretaker - just Caretaker.”
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, something sleek, red and fast whizzed by the boy’s leg, brushed it, then disappeared into the shadows.

“Jesus on toast!” Caretaker barked, “Fox lives!”

“Did he follow me? Did I let him in?”

“Fox never follows,” Caretaker laughed, “Fox always finds.”

The boy lowered his head.

“I ran and I don’t know why.”

“Few do,” Caretaker noted.

“I was with my mother and her new boyfriend and my sisters. They said we were all going someplace nice…”

“China Gardens I bet. Best egg foo young! I always wondered, if you keep egg foo young long enough, does it become egg foo old?”

“…but I ran and now I’m lost.”

“Seems so, yes.”

“Too many turns, too dark too fast.”

“Dark is like that.”

The large-bellied man stood. He was taller than the boy had imagined.

“Fox brushed you,” Caretaker said, “I saw it. Best to come in. There are rats out there bigger than hot rumors.”

The runaway looked at Caretaker then bravely stepped inside.

“What do you say, can I give you the nickel tour?”

Caretaker waved, then turned and waddled towards the back of the room where there was a thick, red curtain. Once on the other side, they found themselves standing at the back of the stage facing empty seats. Caretaker pointed to a spacious domed ceiling.

“I’ve never seen a place like this,” the boy gawked.

“Takes your breath away, don’t it? A hundred gallons of paint up there, meticulously brushed on by 50 workers on scaffolding as intricate as a spider’s web. Paint has real gold in it. Do you see them, the notes?”

The boy looked confused.

Caretaker shrugged, “I thought maybe when Fox brushed you…”

He turned quickly and resumed the tour.

“It was built before the war. You know about the war?”

“I think so.”

“It was the first of its kind, talk of the mid-west. Productions from all over the country came here - top notch. Maria Callas was here. When the war ended, this is where we came to honor what we’d lost and give thanks for what was left. The wood is still damp with tears.

“Notes?” the boy asked.

The other nurse, the clumsy one, came busting through like an in-law at Christmas. She checked the morphine line then scurried away, then he went back to The Swann.

The run-a-way couldn’t take his eyes off the ceiling. He could feel his heart, the heart of the restless.

Caretaker looked up.

“Thousands of them up there, maybe millions.”

He looked down at the boy with crystal clear eyes.

“I think you may need the rooms.”

“Rooms?”

“Yes, most have needed the rooms.”

Caretaker led the run-a-way back through the red curtain, then down a dimly lit hall. He stopped near 3 doors and put his hand on the knob of the first door.

“This is ‘The Room of I’.If you can’t get out on your own and you want to leave, just say the word and I’ll let you out, but then I can’t guarantee you’ll be able to see them.”

The boy nodded. aretaker opened the door, the boy stepped in and Caretaker closed it.

The boy looked around. Lining all 4 walls were costumes on long bars. The run-a-way shyly touched a velvet jacket then slid it aside revealing a full-length mirror. He stared at his reflection then moved on to another garment and slid that one, revealing another mirror.

He methodically went around the room moving costumes until all the mirrors had been revealed. Then he stood in the center of the room and looked in every direction. Lost boys were everywhere he looked.

“What do I do?” he asked.

“Think,” was Caretaker’s answer.

The boy circled the room not knowing what to do or how to get out without asking Caretaker. Every time he tried the door, it remained locked. He saw himself everywhere. Finally, he collapsed to the floor, lowered his head and wept. When he ran out of tears, he lifted his head. It was then he saw that his reflection had left every mirror. In one mirror he saw the eyes of Fox. The door opened. Caretaker was there. The boy stepped out. They went to the next door.

“This is easy,” Caretaker reassured, “Break the stone and the key is yours.”

Caretaker opened the door. The boy stepped in. This room was brightly lit. Only a wooden table containing a small stone and a large hammer and chisel occupied the space. The boy was confident that the chisel, being so large, could beak the stone with ease, but the stone proved harder than he thought. He worked for what seemed like hours, worked until his arm felt like it would break, then again, he fell to the floor, exhausted. He had taken the nature of the stone for granted.

 

Finally, determined, he got up and with great concentration and patience struck the stone in just the right place and the stone broke. The boy took the key and unlocked the door. Again, Caretaker was outside waiting. The boy felt sharp eyes on him but didn’t know where Fox was.

The great conductor stirred. The orderly came in, emptied the trash and left. The conductor again, went back. Caretaker opened the 3rd door; the boy stepped through and looked confused.

“We’re back in the theater. I’ve already seen it.”

Then he looked up. In the dome he saw hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of musical notes. Caretaker stood by the glowing boy.

“Every note that ever came out of an instrument or voice box is still up there for those who can see them, but especially for those who can learn from them.”

The boy was wide-eyed.

“They move in so many directions. If I turn my head in just the right way, I can put some together, make a sound no one has ever heard before. Will I always be able to see the notes?”

“As long as you stand outside yourself and go about your work with patience and determination. Even when you are thousands of miles away. Even when brick and wood no longer stand, the music will be there, inside you. Go find your family. You have all that you need.”
The boy lowered his head and looked around The Swann.

“And Fox?”

Caretaker looked toward the shadows.

“Fox always finds. I’m afraid I may have lost my faith for a moment, but now thanks to you...”

The boy looked up and put more notes together playfully in his mind.

The great conductor drifted towards the dirty hospital ceiling. The golden dome opened. Endless notes that had become endless possibilities were now endless stars that showed the great conductor the way home.

 

Joe Ducato from Utica, NY has published in Adelaide Literary Magazine, Santa Barbara Literary Journal, Modern Literature, Avalon Literary Review and Bangalore Review and among others.