Talents On the Run

The Taxi

The town was filled with taxi after taxi, including ours. New York City that is. The night time sky beamed the ominous glow of the moon across the city’s residents and acted as a light to all. Other than the moon, ads on top of the taxis illuminated the faces of many others, trying to get past the cramped New York streets to get to who knows where. Christopher, Brant and I sat in the last taxi car of the three taken up by the Gifted Arts students. I laughed to myself when I thought about the other cars, how Sherri had personally argued that she should be in the same car as Mr. Lovet and that he should also sit next to her. Mr. Lovet agreed to her scheme but we, in taxi three, all agreed that he only did it because he knew how Sherri could get. In fact, we all knew how Sherri could get. Very, very, grouchy.

“Well look at that, Christopher is asleep.” Said Brant as we both looked up at the front seat. His eyes were closed so gently and his mouth was parted ever so slightly, sort of like a fish.

“He sort of looks like a fish.” I said as Brant played with my honey brown hair that spilled over his lap and onto his seat. I laid long ways with my knees propped up and head across his lap. My eyes looked back up to Brant as he snickered at my comment. When our eyes met, I began to talk again. “Doesn’t it make you want to sleep too, though? He looks so peaceful, well, if there ever was a peaceful fish.” Brant laughed that time, his voice louder than before and his eyes closed.  

“Your laughter tells me you’re wide awake.” I said and pushed up so that my head was now leaned up against Brant’s left arm and shoulder. The Italian taxi driver then changed the radio station to a classical music station, probably for the sake of sleeping Christopher. One of the songs was a piano piece I had learned only the two weeks before with the help of Mr. Lovet or Vince as he liked us to call him when the other teachers and students weren’t around. I was a pianist protégé. At the age of three, I sounded out ‘The Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy” on my aunt’s piano. With the help of her many surveillance cameras, my moment was caught on tape for my family to forever treasure. And thus the rest of my life began.

“Well I’m just wound up. And besides now your hair is all over my face.”

“Oh, you mean like this?” I said and quickly turned my head from side to side so that my hair wiped his face. Brant ‘puhhed’ and ‘pehed’ at the feeling of my hair in his mouth and on his face.

“You know if I had a weapon like yours you would be getting it right now?” Brant said, referring to my head full of straight, thick, over the shoulder length hair. I laughed and closed my eyes, thinking about the week ahead of us. We were going to a couple of plays and operas around town which would cover the music students: Brant on the guitar, James Foreman on the drums, Sherri on vocals and me on the piano; the actors: Vivien Morris and Craig Dosher; and of course Christopher because he was a playwright and there wouldn’t be plays or operas without them. 

Mr. Lovet had arranged for us to watch or talents which meant the musicians would stand in the orchestra and play their instrument for a portion of the time. The actors and Christopher got the privilege of standing behind the scenes at the sides and occasionally acting as background actors.  Believe it or not, Christopher was so melodramatic that he was able to act as well as write.

There were two more Gifted Arts students: Rima Zernan, and Gale Everhart. Their talents required different events. Rima was a dancer so we would be going to a ballet where she would perform for a bit. Gale was almost a professional photographer and artist so we would also be going to The Museum of Modern Art. All of it sounded so nice to me in my head because I had to have been thinking about it for ten minutes at the most. I realized it when I heard Brant whispering my name.

“Star. . . Star. . . Are you asleep?” Said Brant who was looking down at me with a sweet smile plastered on his face.

“Yes big bro.” I said to him as I scooted closer to him again and put my head on his shoulders. Brant and I were next door neighbors and had been for twelve years out of my seventeen year old life. Of course we were like brother and sister.  When the traffic moved about an inch, I began to shiver; the taxi driver clearly liked his car cold and icy. Brant pulled me into a big brotherly hug to warm me up.

“It’s okay, Star. Go to sleep.” He whispered softer than I thought possible and I feel asleep warm and happy thanks to Brant and one of the best cities in the world.