And Everything Nice (3 page)
An hour in, Richard made some announcements. First, that members weren't only expected to attend weekly practices. There would also be separate practices for each section. All leading up to the concert in December.
It sounded like a big time commitment. If I stayed.
Richard said, “Lastly, I've got the sign-up sheets here for the small groups and solo parts. I'll leave them on the piano. If you want to try out, sign up during the break. Auditions will be held in a few weeks' time. Now, let's take fifteen minutes.”
Anna said, “I'm going to try to beat the line to the washroom.” And took off. Almost everyone else scattered. A bunch mobbed the piano and the sign-up sheets. A group of smokers headed outside, cigarette packs in hand. Several women Joanne's age, including Joanne, trooped off to the washroom.
I didn't need to pee and I didn't smoke, so I stayed sitting. I turned on my phone and texted Nathan a report:
I'm at choir practice. It's not bad so far. I know. I can't believe it either. Most of the people here are nuts though. In a funny way.
XO
I checked my emails and my Facebook news feed. I stood up, stretched, looked around the church. The pew behind me was emptyâ no sign of the two chatty women, or of Sticky Fingers. I saw Anna though, almost hidden, in a back corner of the nave. She was sitting on a wooden chair with a high back, like a throne.
She seemed to be writing in a notebook.
Brandon was working his way down the pew behind me, sliding on his ass toward the center aisle. “Are you changing rows?” I said. Trying to be friendly.
“What?” He looked blank. “Wasn't I sitting in this row?”
I shook my head. “No, you were up here, with me. But I won't be insulted if you switch.”
“No,” he said. “I'm just confused. I'll be back. I have to go do something first.” And he slithered down the pew and scooted to the back of the church.
Sticky Fingers lumbered over and sat down. Followed by the two women from before. Woman #2 entered talking. “So how pregnant are you?”
A female voice I hadn't heard before said, “Six months. But I'm huge. Don't ask how much weight I've gained.”
Woman #1: “I've seen bigger at that stage.”
Pregnant said, “I've got three months to go and I'm already losing my mind. I can't sleep. I can't concentrate at work. And I could have sworn I had a hundred bucks in my wallet earlier today. Now I only count eighty.”
Woman #2: “I try not to carry cash. The less I have on me, the less I spend.”
Pregnant said, “I only had that much because I've been collecting at my office for a wedding gift for my boss. But I was sure I'd collected a hundred bucks.”
Woman #1: “Maybe you used the gift money to buy lunch. Consider it your commission.”
Woman #2: “Yeah! Why should you shop for the office for free?”
“Good point,” Pregnant said. “Oh hell. I have to go pee. Again.”
When I heard her get up and go, I half turned in my seat. And pretended I wasn't totally scoping out the two women. They were about the same age as Annaâ mid-thirties, I'd say. They weren't as good-looking as her, but they weren't ugly. Especially now that they were smiling. At me. Woman #1 said, “Hi, I'm Carmen, and this is Kristi.”
“Hi, I'm Steph.” I pointed to my name tag.
Kristi said, “I heard you say before that you're new to the choir this season. We are too. What do you think of it so far?”
“I like it more than I thought I would. I've never sung in a choir before. Have you?”
Carmen had sung in choirs and other groups before, for sure. And she'd done years of vocal training. She'd found out about this choir when she and Kristi became friends with Pauline, the tenor section head. She'd urged them to join, and now here they were.
Carmen said, “So that was Anna Rai sitting next to you, right?”
“Yup.”
“What's she like?”
“She seems nice. The same as she seems on tv.”
Kristi said, “We were talking before about that
Noontime
show she's on. She does these bits on food and decorating and home stuff. Have you seen those?”
“No.”
Carmen said, “In the segment I saw, she hosted a champagne brunch at her house. That's some swanky house she's got.”
Kristi said, “Must be nice to get paid the big bucks for being born pretty. Though there's something mannish about her jaw, have you noticed? I'd get that fixed if I were her.”
Carmen leaned forward. “The dumbest part was when she pretended to make a six-layer coconut cake, then pretended to eat it. She took one bite and made, like, sex noises. When everyone knows there's no way she eats cake in real life. Have you seen how skinny she is? Her arms and legs are like sticks.”
Kristi: “She must have spit out the cake off camera.”
Carmen: “Those shows are so fake. They probably hire actors to be her friends. And the house is a set. You have to wonder who she slept with to get that gig.”
I didn't know what to say. I had no reason to protect or defend Anna, but I didn't want to tear her apart either. Not like those two piranhas.
When the pianist played the fanfare again, I saw Anna get up and come toward us.
I turned around and faced the altar. “No wonder she goes off by herself during the break,” I said.
Carmen said, “What was that?”
But Richard was talking about the next song to work on, and Anna and Brandon had slipped back into the pew, so I didn't have to answer. Didn't want to either.
N
athan didn't get why I decided to join the choir. When I told him about my first night at practice, he said, “It sounds like everyone bugged you. So why go back?”
“Not everyone bugged me. Anna Rai was nice. This guy Brandon was okay. And Richard, the choirmaster, is kind of funny.”
“Isn't it like being at work, though? Having to deal with people's egos and listen to their bitching? I thought you got enough of that at the store.”
“It's different at choir. I'm not the boss, so I can do whatever I want. And watching these people act out is like watching a soap.” I swung my leg over his on the couch. “Maybe it's because I work in customer service, but I like seeing how people behave and interact in social situations. I'm curious that way.”
Was I, really? Or did I just like how Anna's words sounded coming out of my mouth? I wasn't sure.
“Don't get me wrong,” Nathan said. “If you like it, do it. But if the girl who sat behind you and sang too loud makes you crazy, don't.”
That's what was weird. Kristi and Carmen and the dudes with attitude
had
made me crazy. But in a way that made me want to go back for more.
At the second practice, Anna and I sat in the same pew as before, in front of Kristi and Carmen. The way high school kids pick a seat on the first day of class and stick with it the whole year.
After we'd taken out our music and stowed our bags, Kristi and Carmen said hi to me and introduced themselves in a friendly way to Anna. You'd never know they'd put her down, big-time, behind her back the week before.
Anna said, “Are you two going to try out for the small groups and solos?”
Kristi said, “Carmen will. She has an amazing voice. She'll get some solos, for sure.”
Carmen said, “Nothing's for sure, Kristi. There are a lot of factors that go into casting decisions.”
Casting decisions? What did Carmen think she would be trying out for?
Carmen said, “I bet the best parts go to the veterans. Isn't that how everything in life works? It's all about who you know and who your connections are. When it should be about talent. Right, Anna?”
Anna deflected Carmen's comment with a smile. She said, “Brandon would know more about the selection process than me. He sang in a small group at the last concert. Didn't you, Brandon?”
Brandon had slid into our pew from the other end. Anna was in the middle between us, but I could still smell the tobacco smoke on him. He said, “Yeah, I was in the all-guy group that sang âConfessions' last season.” He indicated Sticky Fingers, who was sitting in the pew in front of us this time. “Oscar was in the group too.”
“You guys were good!” Anna said.
I said, “âConfessions'? The Usher song?”
Sticky Fingers turned around, and I got a good view of the huge snake tattoo on his neck. “Yeah.” He let loose a wheezy laugh. “Me, Brandon and a couple of rich lawyers from the bass section sang it. I was the only dude in the group who was a believable thug, but hey. We gave it our all. Right, Brandon?”
Brandon said, “We sure did.” And he winked at me behind Oscar's back. As if to say,
Can you believe I sang in a group with this lowlife?
At the break that night, Kristi and Carmen started more introductions among the tenors. Within a few minutes, I'd met twenty people. I knew I wouldn't remember all their names, so I gave them nicknames. Among the women: Green Hair, Freckles, Pregnant and Old Hippie. Some of the men: Tall Guy, Pointy Shoes, Kramer and Ponytail.
Two practices and weeks later, I still didn't know all their names. But I knew their faces and their voices. I'd also gotten to know Anna better. And become curious enough about her to set the pvr at home to record her show.
Joanne walked into the room one night when I was fast-forwarding through a
Noontime
episode. As soon as the “And Everything Nice” segment title came up on the screen, she said, “Wait. Is this based on that old sexist poem? âSugar and spice and everything nice, that's what little girls are made of '?”
“Seems to be.”
“Let's see it.”
The opening shot showed Anna sitting at an antique desk in a sunny living room. The camera zoomed in on her hand, writing in a notebook that looked like the one she'd had at choir practice.
The camera panned up to her face. She said, “Some people consider it old-fashioned to write in longhand, with a pen, on paper. But I love to record my thoughts about what I've seen and heard and read each day.”
Joanne said, “Hey, I like that. A plug for journal-keeping. Go literacy!”
Anna's voiceover continued over a montage of images. “Recording my impressions of people and places is like writing a book of memories.” She taped a maple leaf into her journal. She made an I've-got-an-idea face and wrote something down. Her hand added the last two words to the sentence:
I love the brilliant colors and cool breezes of fall
.
Joanne said, “Could she be more trite?”
“What does trite mean, again?”
“Banal, hackneyed. Lame.”
We were back to a shot of Anna sitting, facing the camera. “The act of writing helps me remember what I've done,” she said. “And what I want to do.” She closed the notebook. “And today, I want to go to a local farmers' market and buy some root vegetables!”
“That notebook she has?” Joanne said. “It's a fancy French brand that aspiring writers use. Hemingway used them.”
“Why do you even know that?”
“How often do I have to tell you? English teachers know everything.”
On screen, Anna stood in front of a market table. She held a squash in her hand and talked to a farmer.
“This is boring,” I said.
“Do you think she'll cook that squash with sugar and spice?” Joanne said. “Because that would be ânice.' Five bucks says she does.”
“No bet. She will do that, for sure. Niceness is her thing. Her niche.”
“Poor her then,” Joanne said and went upstairs to prepare her classes.
T
he following Monday, I got an email from a guy named Andrew, the assistant to the regional director. It said:
Hi Stephanie: