Drug-haunted violin virtuoso dies at 60
A short story
by
John W.
Tuohy
The rain soaked him to the bone and the
gloom overcast drained all of the humor from him. How many days had it rained?
Three? No, four. And the cold, that raw winter cold.
He had not expected to see them at the
burial, especially not on a miserable day like this. He had to stand with them
at the burial since standing apart from them would have seemed, confrontational,
so he stood with them. In that frame of
things it surprised him when Wolfe leaned in front of Schuler and whispered “Mary,
join us for drinks afterwards. We’ll lift a pint to our friends passing” he
mentioned a place, the Harp and something.
He said yes but he resented it. He felt he
should have said no.
“Pint indeed” he mused “where does he think he
is? England? We don’t lift pints in America, we drink a beer
and beer is cold and it’s not the right weather drinking beer or anything else”
He left well before they did and decided
to take the coward’s way out and go home. He would never see them again anyway.
Pink indeed.
On the solitary and silent drive back to
Georgetown the roads were covered in a thick grey fog that seemed to take on a
life of its own as it floated from the Potomac and melted across the roadway.
He parked on 35th street,
bounded down the sidewalk, shielding his head from the rain when he spotted the
warm, soft glow of coffee shop’s lights on O Street, beckoning his weary bones.
Coffee. Warmth. He’d take it. His boney fingers are cold and white. The thick
smell of freshly brewed beans relaxed him and removing his wet raincoat and tweed
country walking hat he order a cup from a tall and lean young man behind the counter.
“Black, no sugar”
He took a seat with small round wooden
table that looked out into the cold and dreary Georgetown streets and folded his
cold hands around the cup and relaxed to the rhythmic sounds of the rain
falling on the tin roof above him. The bright lights gave the café a sense of
protective coziness and that was what he needed at that moment.
Guilt
got the best of him. It always did. He
called Wolfe and said “Ernest here. Look, I’m in Georgetown at a coffee place
on 35th and O, there’s plenty of parking. It is far too early for
drinks. Come by here. I’ll flip for the coffee.”
Wolfe
agreed, reluctantly and grumbling, but he agreed. Mary would come with him of
course because Mary had absolutely no backbone around Wolfe. It was why they
made such a successful partnership later on.
He put down the phone and returned to the
events of the day. So he was dead. He was so young. Only 60. And then looking
around the café filled with the fresh young faces of Georgetown students he
though “My God, sixty, am I really so old that I hail six decades as young?”
So,
maybe he wasn’t young. It was more that he always seemed young because he was
so vibrant even at the end when Cirrhosis killed him.
He
took a deep breath and sighed louder than he had intended causing one of the
students at a table full of student to turn and give him a scornful look. He sneered back at him and the boy looked
away. “Scorn” he thought “It’s what youth does best. Well that, and travel in
packs.” He was solitary man and always
had been.
Returning to his gaze out the window he
watched them park at the far end of the street and start to job towards the
café, covering their heads from the rain drops. He turned and ordered two teas,
Earl Grey, and a coffee for Wolfe and returned to the view on the street. He studied
them carefully. Glee, the departed soul’s wife, although lovely, tall and
graceful as ever, looked old and tired. The lines in her stately face were deep
and shouted out her weariness.
Mary, once the protégé from the departed, walked
slightly behind her of course. Beautiful but timid. Younger than all of them.
She had been their secretary, of sorts, and now she was another friend who
remembered things past. And then there
was Wolfe. God help us all. Look at how large he’s gotten. By the
time they were close to the door, the teas and coffee were ready and he
collected them and placed them at the table, just as they entered.
He stood and greeted them all,
embracing Glee, kissing Mary’s hand and offering a curt nod to Wolfe and then remained
standing through the traditional shuffling of positions and then he sat.
Mary
unbuttoned her heavy coat to reveal her still slim and curvaceous figure and
turned to him and said “It’s all like a bad dream isn’t it?”
“Let’s
not discuss it” Susan said as she removed her coat and hat and then pulled him
closer and gently kissed his forehead and said
“Let’s just talk about the old time, shall we? The good times.”
“I don’t like this chair” Wolfe said
“Terrible view”
“Would you like my seat” Mary asked with a
smile.
Wolfe
looked over the offering and said “No. That seems only worse. I’ll take yours
Earnest”
“Screw you” he replied. It was the only way
to handle Wolfe.
Wolfe
looked around the shop with disdain. He did disdain well. His eyes looked over
the faded black and white tiles on the walls and ceilings and asked “What is this place?” It has the feel of
morgue”
“It’s a coffee shop” Earnest answered “It’s
a place where nice people go to drink coffee. I bought you one” and pointed to
the cup in front of him. Wolfe took the cup, placed it close to his nose and
smelled the coffee. A flask appeared
from his rain coat. He poured a bit into the cup.
The young man behind the counter pointed an
accusing finger at Wolfe and said
“There is no liquor here, sir”
“I
know dear boy” he answered pouring a pinch more “That’s why I brought my own”
Susan
sat to my left and clasped my hand in hers “How are you Earnest?”
Mary leaned forward in her chair to hear his
answer. He felt nervous and played with the rim coffee cup.
“I’ve been better” he answered as he
inspected the cup.
“You’re depressed over what happened
recently” Susan said.
“Why” Wolfe asked “What happened recently?”
“She
means” Mary answered “His death. Depressed over the death”
“I
am not depressed over his death” He said and added as an afterthought “All
right maybe a little depressed.” He paused again and said “I’m very depressed
over it”
“People
die” Mary said as she aimlessly stirred her coffee. “If only I had……”
Silence fell over them.
“If
only you had what?” Wolfe asked.
She
shrugged. “I don’t know”
“I
gave up on him.” Earnest answered sadly.
“We all did” Mary replied with a
tilt of her head.
“Well I certainly didn’t” Susan said.
And she was right in that. She had stayed with him through it all, even after
he divorced her, she was there for him
“I feel numb” she said to no one in
particular. “It all seems so meaningless. It took me five hours to get ready
this morning and I can’t recall a single moment”
“Have you asked yourself the question” Wolfe
said “Is this something worth being depressed about?”
He leaned forward when he spoke. He always
did that, leaned forward into person’s space and I hated it when he did it and
I was thankful for the table between them.
“What
sort of an asinine proposition is that?” Earnest asked “You want me to be happy
over this?”
“I want you to see it for what it is.” He
answered with a shrug “And what it is, what it’s all about, is that it’s about
time. It’s about time he died”
“Oh that’s lovely” Earnest said “I’m so
glad you came along to the funeral. You’re a delight, really”
“Oh Wolfe” Susan cried “What in heaven’s
name is wrong with you?” She pushed her tea to the side, crossed her arms and
leaned back in her chair.
“Wolfe. Really” Mary added.
“He was confined to his bed for the past
eight months.” He said and then added loudly, “He wore a diaper because he had
no control of his bowels” and at that a very young student, a girl, turned and
crinkled her nose at him causing Wolfe to return the look to her and add “Oh
grow up kid, we all have bowels and every now and then they do whatever the
hell they want to us”
Returning
his attention to them he said “He hallucinated. He cried.”
“That’s enough” Susan said
“He howled. He demanded. He begged.”
“Wolfe” Mary said “Enough”
“He vomited. He was on a constant painful
withdrawal from something for the past ten years only to become addicted to
something else. And you tell me you are depressed that all that is over? Well
I’m not”
“Why are you so angry, Wolfe?” Susan asked
snapped.
“I’m not angry” he answered “I’m simply
saying that for once in its long creepy career, death, that goddamn thief,
finally came at the right time “
“I have always wondered if you were
mentally ill” Earnest said
“Let him be” Mary added. “It’s his way of
healing”
“And
how are you healing” Earnest asked her.
“My usual way” she answered “Guilt and
trying to bargain with God to make it all not true”
“Well
I’m not angry” Wolfe said again.
“It’s
all right if you are angry” Mary said “Anger covers pain. There are other
emotions under the anger and you will get to them in time”
“Thank
you Doctor Mary” Wolfe said.
“Why
don’t we discuss something pleasant?” Mary
said.
“I know
what we can do” Susan said happily “We can all meet again, like we used too in
the old days. Sunday’s. Remember how it was on Sundays? We can have that again.
There’s the four us and he’ll be with us, in spirit. What do you say?” It’ll be
just like it was, just like it should be. One big happy maladjusted family.”
No one was interested.
“What
will you do with his things?” Wolfe asked.
“His
things?” Susan asked indignantly.
“Well
his instrument….his…things” Wolfe said haltingly. He knew he was in trouble.
Susan
turned her slender body to face him “What do you mean what will I do with them?
“Well” he said slowly “will you donate them to
a charity? Sell them perhaps? There is a
market certainly. I could probably fetch well into the six figures or more for
his instrument if you’ll allow me to make inquiries”
“I’ll
do no such thing.” Susan snapped “I’ll keep them where they are, where they
belong.”
“Why?”
Wolfe said equally loudly “He left you nothing except debt. So why won’t you
let me sell them for whatever I can for you?”
“Why?”
Susan shouted emotionally “Because they are his, they are his belongings”
“He’s
dead and gone and your broke and here” Wolfe said flatly.
“You
know he never liked you and now I can see why” she answered.
“Now
come on, that’s uncalled for.” Earnest said
“Heartless
little schemer.” She added and then turned her back on him.
No one spoke but after several seconds.
Finally Earnest said softly “However the heartless little schemer is correct,
Susan. He is dead and you should start thinking about…”
“That
doesn’t mean everything changes.” She snapped “That isn’t what it means. Only
people like you think like that”
“Yes
I recognize that this is a somewhat inappropriate statement to make at this
time” Wolfe said.
“When
has in inappropriate ever stopped you?” Susan snarled.
“All right” he said emphatically “Okay.
Fine. You talk about not being liked?”
“I think we need to get off this” Earnest
interjected “Before we say more things we don’t mean”
“I don’t know why I’m here.” Wolfe said
loudly “I didn’t like him very much” and then he corrected himself “Not at the
end” and turning to Susan he said “And I knew him for years before you
arrived. There wasn’t much about him to
like at the end”
“I prefer to recall him as in his fantasy
life” Earnest said “The glamorous life. The ideal of him”
“When
did you hear from him last, Earnest?” Mary asked
“Oh,
five years was it? Yes. Five years. But we were on again off again constantly.
He would stop the drugs, stop the boozing and seem genuinely interested in
focusing on music again. But he had declined as a performer although some of
the old spark was there every now and then. He told me he was embarrassed by
the bookings he was getting. Retirement communities, that sort of thing”
“After
he got ill last summer, he just decided to die.” Susan said “He stopped playing
entirely. It was too painful for him. He felt like his career had been ripped
from him, and he didn’t have the great venues to play in anymore and it just
crushed him.”
“Ripped from him by whom? Fate?” Wolfe
asked “He screwed himself, plain and simple”
“They
closed the doors to him.” Susan said angrily “He was blacklisted. You know
that. You know that more than anyone else”
“He
was blacklisted because he lost control of himself and as a result everything
around him disintegrated, his career his family. Everything.” Wolfe said “How can anyone with that much opportunity be called a
victim? ‘He had everything handed him and he messed it all up.''
“When
did you see him last?” Earnest asked Wolfe.
“Oh”
he rolled his eyes and calculated “Last year…no …yes, last year when he had
that liver failure issue. I phoned. Didn’t actually see him”
“I
didn’t hear about it” I said
“We
kept it under wraps.” Susan added “He wanted it that way”
“He
should have died then” Wolfe said twirling a plastic stick in his tea.
“Oh ease up will you please?” Earnest said.
“Why?
I speak the truth.. There have been other concert violinists with the same
problems and they did not just give up. Their careers did not suffer. Other
concert artists have gone into decline, accepted it, and just moved on, but for
some reason, our boy could not bring himself to move along.”
A group of students slowly made their way
into the cafe
“Must they open that door every
time they come in and leave?” Wolfe growled as he cast the evil eye on some
departing students.
“Well yes, that’s the entire
purpose of a door” Earnest said “It serves no other purpose”
“It lets in the cold air” he
snapped.
“We’ll have them exit through the
back, how would that be?” Earnest said
“Why don’t we just meet in a bus
station or something?” he snarled.
“You have no idea what bus station
looks like.” I said “For all you know this is a bus station.”
“And what happened between you and him?” Mary
asked Wolfe.
“He
stopped talking to me ten years ago.” He answered “I booked to play for a large
condo community in South Florida. The money was good. Glamorous? No. But a good
paycheck. I brought it to him in person. He was drunk or maybe he was high, but
he was in a foul mood. He was insulted. Kept screaming “A condominium!”
smashing things. Threw a lamp at me. That was the last of us. Then he called
earlier this year. We spoke for a while. Never mentioned Florida”
He stared out into the rain and then turned
to Susan and said “It’s astounding how much of what he did to us we simply
decided to forget”
Although she was looking out the window, Susan
reached across the table and taking Wolfe’s mighty hand in her own and kept it
there.
“Mercurial. He was a mercurial performer” Earnest
added “It was what I called him in the first column I wrote about him. He
didn’t know what it meant. He assumed it meant mediocre”
“He was barely educated” Wolfe added.
“So I look up from desk the next morning and
there he is, red as beat, my column in his clenched fist demanding to know why
I called him mercurial. I reached across the desk opened the dictionary and
read the definition “Wonderful word mercurial. Related to the Roman God
Mercury. Unpredictable, lively, active, brilliant, impulsive, consistent.” He said “Oh. Well in that case do you want
to go and have a few drinks?” I said yes. He needed an agent. I abhorred
writing columns so I told him I would be his agent. He agreed. We were both
good and drunk by then. But I represented him for seven years. Never had a
written contract between us. I booked him in more than 100 concerts a year back
then. He grossed almost a million bucks a year just from the shows. And then
there were records.
“What happened between you two?” Mary asked
Earnest
“I was with him one afternoon” Earnest
replied with a deep sigh “we were both drinking, this was in the beginning of
the end and he asked me “Why aren’t I on television anymore?” and I lied and I
didn’t know. Well we argued, as drunkards do. So in the spirit of complete
meanness, I phoned…I’ve forgotten his name, the producer up in New York, he’s
dead now. I get this producer on the line and he asked him, on the
speakerphone, “Why is our boy not on television anymore?” and the producer
doesn’t miss a trick and says “Because your boy is an unreliable drunk” and he
hung up. A few weeks later I got a
letter from the questionably esteemed Mister Wolfe seated here on my right
stating that he was now representing our boy”
“I thought he would be a good client” Wolfe
said nervously and turning to Earnest added “And I did not pursue him, he came
to me”
That
was lie, they all knew it, but the course of the conversation
changed.
“Where was the second wife? Why wasn’t she
there today” I couldn’t remember her name but I could picture her beautiful
face “What’s her name?”
“The
bitch from hell.” Susan offered.
“What
was her name?” Earnest asked.
“That
was her name” Susan countered.
“It
was her title, actually” Wolfe offered.
“Why
did he marry her?” I asked “She was so awful.”
“She
thought he had money, he thought she had class” Susan said recalling her face
“Jesus, he really was a hick back then wasn’t he?”
“No”
I said “I think he was just young”
“You
could spot her a mile away” Wolfe said
“Well,
now we could, yes” Earnest replied
“She’s the one who turned him to drugs.” Mary
said “He was innocent drunk before” her.
“She didn’t even have the class to show up
to the man’s funeral” Ernest said.
“Well thank God for that because she’s dead”
Susan said happily.
“Dead?” Earnest repeated.
“Seven or eight years ago” Susan said “Put a
gun in that lovely mouth of hers and pulled the trigger”
“I understand no one claimed the body” Mary
added.
“Jesus” Earnest whispered “She was so
beautiful”
“What
about the mother?” Wolfe asked “You never hear much about his mother.”
“A
drinker” Susan said taking a sip from Wolfe’s flask “very tragic. Dead too.”
“I
heard” Wolfe said “his father pushed him, mercilessly. He pressured the kid to
practice for hours at a time.”
“Well
that’s the oldest tune in the book though isn’t it?” Earnest said.
“He
told me” Mary said “That it was his old man who got him into Juilliard.
“He got booted out though” Wolfe said.
“Why?” Mary asked.
“Generic disciplinary reasons is what I’ve
always read’ I answered.
“He seduced a teacher.” Susan said flatly.
“A man or a woman?” Wolfe asked. He was
fishing for gossip.
“You’d love it if it were a man wouldn’t
you?” She answered.
After a brief lull in the conversation,
Susan said “Well his rise was
fast his descent was so painfully slow.”
Wolfe added “I heard that when he returned home from the international
competitions Moscow to Idaho….”
“Colorado” Mary corrected.
“All right, Colorado.” Wolfe said “I heard
that when he returned home from Moscow to Colorado that his father had
choreographed a publicity stunt and that included having the boy’s horse met
him at the airport.”
“That’s a long drive for a horse isn’t it?” Mary
asked.
“And” Wolfe said tossing more gasoline on
the fire “Let us return to the august Carnegie Hall. He sold the place
out?”
“Yes we did” Earnest answered.
“But to that I say, so what?
Putting asses in seats does not equate to talent, we’re not Hollywood you
know.” Wolfe said “The entire point of that concert, if you will remember was
to prove that he had the right stuff for a long term career that he wasn’t a
pretty boy flash in the pan. And all of you saw what happened, you were all
there. All that he managed to do was to reinforce the image of a musician
wonderfully adept at light repertory and at sea in Brahms.”
“Show some Goddamn tact will you?” Earnest
begged
“He succeeded but for the wrong reasons.” Wolfe
said firmly “It’s the same with all of these competition winners. They never
have a chance to recover. His is a cautionary tale of what can happen
when a gifted young artist, still personally and musically immature, is turned
into a global commodity for a spate of wrong reasons. His entire package
was nothing more than mastery over a small body of 19th, 20th
century showpieces that were intended to show off the violinist's art. That was all well and good in the beginning but as the years went
by it grew old”
“He didn’t mature” Mary added “as a
musician”
“And” Wolfe continued “as expected the
critics took him task increasingly for what they saw as, correctly I should
add, of flash over substance.’you used to
be able to start an artist in Carnegie Recital Hall and build them up over
seven years. Now you have a couple of competition winners who reign supreme
over a limited ability until the next couple of winners come along and pushes
them out of the way.''
“But” Earnest interjected “they always said
that about him, from the very beginning “His repertoire relied too heavily on
flashy pieces that lacked depth” but it didn’t bothered him, not in the
beginning anyway. Nothing bad could touch him and he knew it. He used to say to me “Aside from technique of
the highest caliber, you need the glitter. The conviction of your own style.
The polish."
“He had no polish” Wolfe said
looking directly at Earnest “Not the right kind. He had flash. There is a difference you know”
“He was never an introspective
artist, he said that once” Earnest said in his defense. “He told me “Ernie, the
problem with introspection is that it has no end.”
“He failed completely in the
heavier repertory, Beethoven and Brahms.” Mary said “You know that”
“Because he was never given the
opportunity early on to develop and grow.” Earnest said
“That’s not true” Wolfe said “The
opportunity was there for the taking. He chose not to take it and he paid for
it as a result. The Big Five orchestras barely acknowledged him.
“He played with Philadelphia and
Cleveland” Earnest said
“He played with them once” Wolfe
corrected him “perhaps twice Boston, Chicago New York Philharmonics? Never. The
music directors at those orchestras didn't want to spend their time conducting
his repertory. And had they asked for Beethoven or the Brahms, he wasn't ready.
You can't make a career just on bravura repertory.”
“But you can make a career out of
being charming” Earnest said “And he was charming”
“And he was overbearing” Wolfe
added
“And he could be tactlessness.” Mary
added “He told a conductor once, I’ve forgotten who it was, when he was told
that he would have to perform a duo recital ''I don't intend to share half the
burden with the pianist. It's a violin recital, and I intend to play just
that.''
“My God” Wolfe said as the memory
came to him “He posed for After Dark,
do you remember that? What an uproar that caused! Do you recall that?”
“How can I ever forget?” Ernest answered
mournfully.
Wolfe leaned into Earnest to
closely and whispered “Tell me truthfully. Did you arrange that?”
“You are really obnoxious” He
answered “and no. I did not. He did it on his own.”
Earnest paused and looked out
into the rain and saw them, the two of them twenty years ago in Manhattan at
the photo shoot. He’s lying naked, belly down on a white carpet on the floor,
the auburn red of the violin covering his torso, a bottle of Armand
de Brignac in his hand “Cheer up Ernest!
We’re letting them see a new side of me”
“Managing him could be a
nightmare” Earnest said aloud but barely above a whisper.
“You’re telling us?” Wolfe
shouted. A group of students at a table turned to look at him.
“You are being loud” Mary said
with an eye towards the kids.
“Oh fuck them” Wolfe said directly
to the kids and waving them off he turned to Mary and whispered “Our boy did a
three page spread, shirtless, wearing cowboy gear.”
“I missed that one” Mary said
“What’s After Dark”
“It was this Gay rag” Wolfe
answered. “It was long before you were around”
“Before I was around?” she asked
“Yes, you know, before you two
were involved” he replied
“I think it was a legitimate
weekly magazine, filled with celebrities” Earnest added
“Well he was a cowboy, you know” Mary
said
“Oh please, not everyone from
Colorado is Cowboy” Wolfe said waving her off.
“Yes true” Susan replied “but
everyone from Turkey Ridge Colorado is a cowboy. I’m certain of that”
“Cowboy indeed” Wolfe said dismissively “He
was trained at Juilliard.” And then he turned to Earnest and snickered “You
couched him into wearing those damn boots”
“I did not.” Earnest said “The man wore
cowboy boots”
“Snakeskin they were.” Susan said “Who in
the name of God hunts down snakes for their skin? Where do they get people to
do that sort of thing?”
"He could stand on a horse" Ernest
said “Only cowboys can do that”
“Now there’s a talent every violinist
needs.” Wolfe added with a majestic wave. “Did you advise him on that bit of
trashy behavior as well?”
"He could play violin on a horse.” Mary
said “I saw him do it when we went to his father’s ranch or far or whatever you
call those horse places"
“Oh I’m so sorry I missed that.” Wolfe said
with a condescending air.
“Well anyway, it’s difficult to do.” Mary
added
“How would you know?” Wolfe cracked and then
added “And once again I say unto ye “The triumph of flash over substance. He
could play a violin on a horse but he couldn’t play Beethoven in New York, or
Chicago or anywhere else for that matter”
Pensive for a moment, Ernest took a sugar
packet, examined it, rolled into a ball and snapped across the table with a
flick of his fingers. .Susan ran a manicured finger over the rim of her cup,
squinted and asked Wolfe “What did you just say?”
“That
he wasn’t a real cowboy” Wolfe answered as he poured more whiskey into his
coffee cup.
“No” Susan said sharply, her lips closed
tightly her clear blue eyes focused completely on Mary’s face. “You said to her
‘before you two were involved’
She
leaned in and stared intently at Mary from across the small round table “You
were involved with my husband?”
Wolfe and Earnest looked across the table at
Mary. There was no saving her from what was about to happen. Her mouth was
open, her eyes were wide, her fingers dug into the sides of her cup. She took a
deep breath.
“That isn’t what I meant” Wolfe lied.
“It was for one summer” Mary said
“It’s all ancient history” Earnest said
cutting her off before she dug the grave any deeper.
The sentence was barely finished when Susan
reached out quickly and slapped Mary across the face. Mary reached up to in
shock causing the cup to tip and spill over the table. The shop fell silent as
every eye watched the drama unfold.
“You two faced” Susan searched for the
words, her face flushed. She raised her hand again but Earnest took her by the
wrist and lowered her arm to the table as Wolfe sopped up the coffee from the
table.
“Every all right over there?” the tall, thin
young man from behind the counter asked in a way that was intended to be
commanding.
“Does everything look fine?” Wolfe asked and then waved his hand
dismissively at the student who stared across the shop as thought they were
frozen in place. “Return to your comma’s.”
“It happened quickly. It ended quickly” Mary
said as she tilted her slender face up towards to white ceiling “ I didn’t know
you then, well I didn’t know you well. He told me that you two barely spoke. He
lied. He lied about everything all of the time. I learned that later”
She looked directly across to Susan and with
her eyes filling quickly with tears she shook her head and said “I was young
and he was beautiful and I was stupid and dumb and you are my best
friend.”
“And you are my only friend” Susan said
taking Mary’s hand “and if a girl can’t slap her only friend who can she slap?”
and Mary laughed against her will and wiped away her tears and Wolfe rose a
meaty hand in the air and shouted “Garçon!
Coffee’s!”
“It’s self-serve” Earnest told him.
“I don’t know what that means” he replied.
“Well its much like your life philosophy” Earnest
said.
“He
was flat broke” Susan said and then taking Wolfe’s hand in hers again she said
“Maybe you should look into selling his things, his instruments and all”
They fell into a moment’s silence.
“The public forgot him.” Susan said “He
became unfashionable”
“He should have known the public
would tire of him.” Wolfe added “Celebrity in the mainstream is a fleeting
thing, nothing more than a disposable commodity in the mainstream.”
It was about that time” Susan added
“when he tried to come back by presenting himself in a more sober and serious
light, but the classical world didn’t want him back”
“Well no one took him seriously
anymore.” Wolfe said “Those people tend to mistrust sudden fame. You know, he
once said to me “Wolfe my lad, fame will make me immortal” but actually fame
killed him. And it killed him a hundred times or more”
“He was so bewilderment by it all,
by the loss of his career.” Susan said “He started losing weight. He drank more
until he stopped playing the violin entirely.”
The young man from arrived with a filthy
white towel and sopped up the spilled coffee and walked back to his position to
the counter causing Wolfe to point a spot on the table and say “I think you
failed to leave some germs here, on this spot”
They were tired from the
subject and the gloom of the day darkened their moods.
“Are we okay?” Wolfe asked to one
and all “Is everything all right between us?”
No” Susan answered “but we will be. We just
have to accept what happened to him was his own doing, really, not ours”
“Well what more can be said?” Earnest asked
“He seemed unable to thrive out of the
limelight. So, he withered and died” Wolfe said. “Even the brightest candles are not meant to
burn too long”
No
one spoke for a moment until Wolfe said “I should take a leak before we leave”
and he did and they waited for him making small talk and when he was finished they
gathered their coats and hats. The rain had stopped and the sun appeared
cautiously from the clouds.
