Leave some commentzzzzz I eat that shit up xxxxx
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"Oliver, have you seen my hat?" his mother called from a room over.
"I don't know Mom, the red one?"
"Yes, I don't know where it went!"
Oliver looked down to where Hope stood by his side, giggling. She wore a bright red hat that was too big for her head, flopping over her eyes. Oliver grinned.
"You know what Mom? I don't think I have," Oliver called back.
This caused Hope to giggle even more, fidgeting where she stood. The whole family was getting ready to go out to see the college symphony, as per Oliver's request. His parents had thought it was a splendid idea, better than him going out to another bar at any rate, and it was something the whole family could do together which was always a yes in their books. Oliver had dressed for it too, wearing a blazer jacket with slacks. Hope was in a rumpled pink dress and their mother's red hat, the latter of which would probably not last much longer.
"I just don't know why it isn't where I left it!" Their mom's voice floated distressed from the other room.
"Calm down Naija," Oliver's father could be heard trying to pacify their mother. "It will turn up somewhere."
"We have to leave in five minutes!"
Oliver sighed, figuring he should put an end to the charade. He knelt next to Hope.
"Hey Hope," he began. "I think it's time to give Mommy's hat back now."
"No!" she twisted away from him, tugging the hat further down on her head.
Oliver bit his lip, thinking.
"If you give Mommy's hat back, I have a better hat you can wear. It's the most special hat in the world."
Hope peeked out at him from under the brim of the red hat. "Spe'sal?"
"Special, that's right," Oliver said. "Only for you."
After a couple seconds of deliberation, Hope nodded enthusiastically. Oliver tipped the hat gently off her head, then called out to their mom with only a slightly raised voice so as not to disturb Hope.
"Hey Mom! Hope found it!"
There was some general rustling and muttering, then his mother appeared with a frantic face and hair sticking straight up into the air. She immediately grabbed the hat from Oliver and started fixing it to her head.
Oliver felt a tugging on his sleeve. He looked down to where Hope looked up at him expectantly.
"Spe'sal?" she asked.
Oliver smiled. "Come with me. We gotta be quick okay?"
"Okay!"
Oliver led her to the living room, where they kept pots of fake flowers stacked around family pictures on the mantle. He popped a couple plastic stems from their fixed places and started twisting them into a circle. When he'd finished the crown, he turned around and showed it to his little sister.
"What do you think?"
"Pretty!" Hope shouted, reaching out to gently touch the white flowers. "Pretty!"
Oliver lifted the crown and put it on Hope's head, adjusting it so it nestled nicely in between her tight curls. She kept reaching up to touch the flowers reverently as they trotted back to where there mom waited in the kitchen.
"Is everyone ready to go?" Oliver's father asked, standing gruff and tall by the door to the garage.
The entire family went and piled in the station wagon, Hope continuing to touch her crown and Oliver trying to avoid talking to his parents.
Instead, he thought about the upcoming concert. He read online they were going to play a piece by Rimsky-Korsakov called The Scheherazade. He'd listened to it on YouTube about a million times the night before so he knew enough about the piece to be able to write a comprehensive review. And the more he heard it, the more he liked it. The violin solo was absolutely gorgeous. The whole thing was almost an hour long, but definitely worth it. It was like hearing a story play out onstage. Olive just hoped that the collegiate orchestra could pull it off. A bad first chair violin could easily destroy the entire thing.
Once they arrived at the concert hall, Oliver was too busy getting his notebook and pen ready to grab a program. He'd get one after the performance, he decided, because he'd have to mention the soloists by name for the review. Then they were sitting down in the concert hall.
The orchestra sat ready on the stage, missing only the presence of the concertmaster and the conductor. Oliver eyed the seat where the concertmaster, or the first violin, would sit. Whoever it was better be good, he thought.
"It says here they're playing the Sh... Shee..."
"Scheherazade," Oliver supplied to his mother in a whisper.
"Ah. Do you know if it will be good?"
"I hope so," Oliver said, not wanting to sit through an hour of shit playing.
But then again, writing scathing reviews was pretty fun.
Just then, the auditorium started to clap. Oliver whipped his gaze to the stage where the concertmaster must be coming out.
Wait a second... Oliver squinted. Was that hair... blue?
He had to blink several times, but there, on stage, was Baby Parker with a violin clutched in his left fist.
"Holy shit," Oliver whispered. Then, to his mom, "Let me see that program."
He made a grab for the program, and watched as Baby bowed to the audience. Baby lifted the violin to his chin, still not sitting down, and played a smooth note loud enough to ring throughout the entire auditorium. The rest of the orchestra joined in behind him, all melting into the same pitch.
"What was that?" his mom whispered.
"They were all tuning," Oliver told her absentmindedly, too preoccupied with watching Baby sit down in the first chair seat.
He quickly flipped through the program. And there, on the second page after it listed the conductor: Baby's grinning picture stared back at Oliver with his shock of blue hair. Concertmaster. Wow.
The conductor then entered the stage, and the audience started clapping again. Oliver mindlessly joined in, eyes only on Baby. Then the conductor stepped up to the podium, raised his hands, and the music started. Baby had his eyes closed, violin tucked underneath his chin. Oliver waited breathlessly. The flutes came in, slow and high, then mellowed out and the conductor gestured to Baby.
Then it was just him playing, and oh. It was exactly like his voice. Floating above everything else, filling the auditorium, it was a perfect tone quality. Oliver rested back in his seat, realizing that he had been leaning forward on the edge of it.
As the orchestra swelled behind Baby again, Oliver took a deep breath. Baby was good. Incredible, even. So Oliver settled in for what he knew was going to be one hell of a performance.
*
"That violin player was gorgeous," Oliver's mother was saying as they exited the theater. "He made it sound like the violin was singing. Pure magic."
"I can't believe that was a college production, all the soloists were extremely good," his father chimed in.
"The oboe was nervous, and the harp missed her cues almost every time," Oliver informed them.
Both his parents just looked at him. Oliver shrugged, not willing to explain that he'd heard the piece about twenty times in the last day and he knew when people messed it up. He was carrying Hope on his hip, who had fallen asleep about fifteen minutes into the performance. It wasn't worth waking her up. Besides, he knew he could write a kick ass review about this performance.
"Oh look!" His mother pointed across the room. "The musicians are coming out!"
Oliver craned his neck to see, and sure enough there was a familiar tuft of blue hair nestled short and small between the other performers. Oliver grinned widely, and started making his way over.
"Oliver? Where are you going?" his father asked.
"I'm going to talk to one of the musicians, I know him."
Unfortunately, his family took that to mean 'follow me!'. So Oliver was towing his parents and a sleepy Hope on his way to go see Baby.
"Hey, you."
Baby whipped around at the sound of his voice, and Oliver was delighted to see his entire face light up.
"Oliver! What are you doing here?" Baby beamed.
"I came here with my family," Oliver jabbed a thumb behind him. "I'm reviewing the performance for one of my classes."
"Ah," Baby intoned wisely. "Generic English major, how could I forget?"
"Well it's not a very sticking personality trait," Oliver told him.
Baby laughed, glowing. "So? Is it going to be a good review or a bad one?"
"It's going to be stunning," Oliver said honestly. "Baby you were incredible. How come you never told me you played the violin?"
Baby shrugged. "It never came up. I like guitar better anyways."
Oliver shook his head, about to comment on how it was unfair one person could have so much talent, when someone cleared their throat behind him. When Oliver looked over his shoulder, his mom was glaring at him rather pointedly.
"Oh, right," Oliver said a little sheepishly. "Baby these are my parents and my little sister Hope. Mom, Dad, this is... my friend Baby."
They both looked a little confused at his name, but the hesitation only lasted a second. His mother immediately thrust out her hand for Baby to shake.
"Naija Eze, pleased to meet you," she said. "You played beautifully."
"Thank you ma'am," he said.
"It was a very enjoyable performance," his father added.
Baby smiled. "Well, I do try."
Other people were starting to crowd around them, waiting in line to talk to Baby. Baby looked like he was about to say something but was cut off by a cough. Oliver resisted the urge to reach out and put his hand on Baby's back, aching for some kind of contact. But his parents were right behind him and watching his every move. He didn't want something to be interpreted into something it wasn't. Or something that it was.
Baby straightened up to smile at Oliver and his family.
"Well, it was very nice meeting all of you," he said. "I suppose I'll be seeing you soon."
And to Oliver he mouthed the words text me. Oliver grinned, chest warm. He shifted Hope gently to the other hip as Baby turned to greet more of his adoring fans.
"Well he seemed like a fine young man," Oliver's mother commented as they walked out to their car.
"Upstanding."
"He is," Oliver said, and meant it, though probably not in the way his parents meant it. He refrained from mentioning the way Baby could start a mosh bit by screaming a couple of lyrics.
"How did you meet him Oliver?"
"Uh," Oliver gulped. "We... met on campus. Yeah. I ran into him one day and we just struck up a conversation."
"Well I'm glad you're meeting some good influences, finally. That Emmett seems like he parties far too much."
Oliver also refrained from mentioning how Baby had gotten Oliver to order him a drink.
"I'm glad I met him too," Oliver said. "I'm really glad."
And for some reason, the stars on his back seemed to burn just like they had the very first night he laid eyes on Baby Parker.