Part 14 (1/2)
”Yes, and where is the proper place to pick or strum the guitar?”
”Around the sound hole.”
”Yes, ” the man said quickly, his blue eyes flas.h.i.+ng, ”and what do we call this sign?”
”A treble cleffsign.”
”Yes, Joseph, very good, Joseph,” the man said, turning to the Bonannos for confirmation. Rosalie seemed to be blus.h.i.+ng with pleasure, while Bill sat watching his eight-year-old son standing in front of the instructor's desk, appearing to be enjoying this moment. There had been no wheezing or coughing from Joseph, and this pleased Bill most of all.
The instructor asked Joseph to be seated next to Rosalie while Charles was brought in. Charles tried without success to keep Tory from entering, too, and after an exchange of pus.h.i.+ng and shoving at the door, the instructor invited both Tory and Felippa to come in and be seated, asking only that they sit quietly. Then the instructor smiled at Charles and delivered the same introductory speech that Joseph had heard, and soon Charles was being asked the same questions. While Charles's replies were not as precisely accurate as Joseph's had been, the instructor seemed no less ecstatic, and at the conclusion of the questioning he turned to Bill and Rosalie and said, ”In all sincerity, Mr. and Mrs. Bonanno, I think your boys here are truly gifted, truly gifted. Does either of you have a musical background?”
”I played the piano,” Bill said.
”Ah, yes yes, ” the man said, nodding, ”that's it, that that's where it must come from.”
The man then stood up, reaching into the drawer of his desk, and held up two small gold-colored plastic trophies.
”Boys,” he said, almost solemnly, ”I now want to formally present a token of congratulations to you both. You have demonstrated not only an ability with rhythm in your previous instruction, but now you have shown an understanding of the fundamentals, and I'd like to give you these trophies which mean that you've both made 100 in your examination, the highest mark.” The boys, smiling, accepted the trophies and stood silently.
”And now, Mr. and Mrs. Bonanno,” the instructor said, ”the next step is up to you. We have determined that your sons have what it takes to go on with their music, and we wonder if you can see your way clear to allow them to continue.”
”What can we do?” Bill asked, sensing the sales pitch coming, the whole reason for today's production.
”We will give your boys advanced lessons in guitar once a week for three years, including the sheet music free, with the purchase of an electric guitar for each boy. They are now ready to expand their talents with an electric guitar, which we will provide for a special low price of $495, and the boys will also be allowed to join our junior band. Our first band meeting is tonight at seven o'clock, and so you're just in time to start. With a down payment, we'll extend the credit to pay for the guitars and amplifiers. All you have to do is look over this application form here and list the banks and stores where you keep an account, and we'll get your boys started without delay.”
The man handed Bill the application blank. Bill took it but did not look at it, and he certainly had no intention of signing it. And yet, while he recognized this whole program as a gimmick to sell guitars, he did not necessarily think that an investment of $495 for each boy's instrument, plus three years of weekly lessons, was unreasonable. Bill a.s.sumed that his father had spent at least that much money on his piano lessons, and Bill had often wished, while listening in nightclubs to skilled musicians, that he had mastered an instrument. Although Bill did not now have the thousand dollars to spare on two electric guitars, this did not mean that he could not somehow raise the money. He hated to find himself in a position where a shortage of money prevented him from following his instincts, which at this moment urged him to enroll both sons in the guitar cla.s.s, but he knew that he needed more time to figure out where the money might come from. He looked at Charles, skeptically, and asked, ”Are you sure you'll practice every day if I decide to buy these guitars?”
”Yes,” Charles said. Joseph also nodded. Bill then turned to Rosalie, who was busily b.u.t.toning Felippa's coat and adjusting Tory's hat, avoiding his glance. Bill looked at his watch, and then said quickly to the man, ”Look, my wife has to get to computer cla.s.s right now, and I have to drive her. Let me get her there, and I'll bring the boys back at seven o'clock and we can handle this then.” Bill knew he would not return at seven, for he had a meeting with a few men, and the older boys were going to Cub Scouts while Rosalie went to computer cla.s.s; but he wanted to get out of the music store as quickly as possible, finding the situation suddenly awkward and embarra.s.sing.
”Fine,” the man said, smiling. Bill turned to leave with the children; but before he was halfway to the door, he heard the man calling after him, ”One moment, sir, take these with you.” The man was carrying two silver cases containing new electric guitars, and also the amplifiers. Bill hesitated, but the man insisted that he take them, explaining, ”Let the boys see how they like them. They can practice at least a half hour before you come back, and they'll be better prepared for the band.”
Charles and Joseph exclaimed their approval, and Bill accepted the instruments with thanks; he carried them but to the car and carefully placed them in the trunk.
”Bill,” Rosalie said softly, urgently, ”we can't afford to do this.”
”We'll talk about it later,” he said, sharply, not wanting to discuss it in front of the children. As Bill got into the car, he waved at the man who stood watching from the store window, and headed for home.
The children talked excitedly, and Rosalie sat quietly next to Bill, feeling frustration and guilt. She wished that she had found out ahead of time the main reason why both parents had been invited; if she had, she might have protected Bill from that which made him most vulnerable, his ego. Rosalie did not doubt that if Bill had had a thousand dollars in his pocket five minutes ago, he would have handed it to the man in the music store, and at this moment he would be as happy as the children seemed to be, riding home with two electric guitars that soon would be vibrating noisily through the house and the neighborhood.
Bill pulled into the driveway and, after carrying the amplifiers and guitars into the living room, he inserted the plugs into the electric sockets and flicked his fingers over the strings, hearing the tw.a.n.g and piercing echo. He strummed the strings a number of times, turning the k.n.o.bs and admiring the sleek design of the red and silver instrument. Then he handed the guitars to the boys, who had been waiting impatiently, and walked into the kitchen, where Rosalie was preparing the children's dinner. It was after 6:00 P.M. and the baby-sitter would be arriving soon.
”Bill, I'm sorry,” Rosalie said, standing in front of the stove. ”It was a mistake. It's an impossible situation.”
”Don't worry,” Bill said, in a jocular way, ”the difficult I do immediately, the impossible takes me a little longer.”
”Let's be serious,” she said. ”We can't afford it.”
”We can't afford anything anything if you look at it that way,” he said. ”I can't afford to fly to New York, I can't afford to drive to Arizona, I can't afford or justify any of the things I do. And if I can't justify what I do, what right do I have in not letting them have music lessons.” if you look at it that way,” he said. ”I can't afford to fly to New York, I can't afford to drive to Arizona, I can't afford or justify any of the things I do. And if I can't justify what I do, what right do I have in not letting them have music lessons.”
”Yes,” Rosalie said, ”but we have so many others things to do. We have the house to worry about.”
”Don't worry about the house. I'll get the money for the house.”
”Where?”
”Don't worry.”
”I am am worried. We're talking here about a thousand dollars' worth of equipment. Before I put that money toward that, I'd rather put it toward the house.” worried. We're talking here about a thousand dollars' worth of equipment. Before I put that money toward that, I'd rather put it toward the house.”
”Look,” he said, ”where there's a will there's a way. When you want something badly enough, you always find a way to get it, right? Just like you somehow managed to find the money for your computer cla.s.s.”
He was touching on a sensitive subject now, and Rosalie said nothing. He had never encouraged her to go to computer school, had tried to avoid the subject whenever she mentioned it during the previous summer. But in the fall, with no financial help from him, she came up with the $1,250. He could only a.s.sume that she had gotten it from her mother, not knowing who else could have given it to her, and not really wanting to know.
”Look,” he said finally, more softly, ”I'm not saying you did anything wrong in taking these computer cla.s.ses. I'm just saying that when you want to do something, you do it. You find a way. You wanted a career, and now you're getting one, right?”
”I'm doing it because I need the money,” she said.
”You're going to be spending more money than you'll ever make out of this career,” he said, ”when you consider the cost of the baby-sitter every day, the cost of your clothes, and the transportation, and all the extras-it'd be cheaper if you didn't work.” It was an old argument that she had heard before, and she was tired of talking about it.
”Who's going to pay for the things I need?” she asked. ”I need fifty dollars a week for myself. I want...”
”You want...” he interrupted.
”I'm tired of asking asking for everything,” she cried out. for everything,” she cried out.
”And I'm tired of hearing this,” he said. He paced through the kitchen as Rosalie took dishes from the cabinet and placed them around the kitchen table where the children would eat supper.
”Rosalie,” Bill said, calmly and authoritatively, ”stop worrying. You don't see me worrying do you? After all I've been through these past few years, you think this this is worth worrying about? After all I've been through, I'm now supposed to worry about a guitar school? I'll get the money. I'll beg, steal, or borrow it, but I'll get it. I've been living on borrowed time for years, and I've learned to survive in dangerous situations, and I've lived with bullets flying around, with bombs going off, with cars coming at you, and is worth worrying about? After all I've been through, I'm now supposed to worry about a guitar school? I'll get the money. I'll beg, steal, or borrow it, but I'll get it. I've been living on borrowed time for years, and I've learned to survive in dangerous situations, and I've lived with bullets flying around, with bombs going off, with cars coming at you, and I have survived I have survived. And you think I'm going to worry now about two lousy electric guitars?”
”Who,” Rosalie asked, wearily, ”is going to pay?”
”I said I'd get the money.”
”How?”
”Somehow I'll get it. Have I ever failed you before?”
She looked at him with astonishment.
”Sure,” he said, sharply, ”sure you always can remember the bad times, can't you? You never remember all the times I've come through, but you sure can remember any little failure!”
”All right,” she said, after a pause, ”but suppose you have to go away to jail, then what? Who will meet the monthly payments for the music school if you're in jail?”