Up In Smoke

Chapter 3: October Part 3

Up In Smoke

Chapter 3: October Part 3


“Connie!”


Connie turned as her best friend came running up to her.


“I didn’t see you on the bus.”


“You wouldn’t have done, I got an earlier one.”


“How come?” Lucy Garcia frowned at her friend.


“I was ready to leave earlier than usual.”


Lucy tried to catch Connie’s eye, but she kept her face averted, afraid that if she did look directly at Lucy she wouldn’t be able to hold her emotions in check.


“What’s wrong?”


“What makes you think anything’s wrong?” Connie replied, a little too quickly.


“How about you’re refusing to look at me? How about I can see it in the way you’re standing and walking?”


Connie felt her shoulders sagging; she shut her eyes against the threatening tears. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Her voice sounded surprisingly steady, despite her inner turmoil.

* * *

The cold wind blew around the field, but Connie ignored it, jogging onwards as if she were the only one out there. She’d never been good at PE, and rarely enjoyed it, but today she welcomed the distraction. With every step she felt more able to control her emotions. Out here the class was more spread out, and there was less chance of anyone seeing her upset.


It was my home. He was my father. Why did this have to happen? The thoughts ran over in her head in time with her pounding feet. I love you too, dad. I always will, and I’ll never forget you.


“Good work, Connie.” The teacher praised her as she ran passed.


Connie felt a small smile appearing on her face. The sadness within had lessened over the time she had been running. Before long she heard the whistle signifying the end of the lesson. She slowed to a walk as Lucy caught up with her.


“Where did that come from?” Lucy panted. “You’re normally right at the back, not the front.”


“I needed to get rid of some anger.” Connie replied truthfully.


“How come?” Lucy watched her friend closely. Noticing how her expression changed from being relaxed to suddenly guarded.


“I don’t want to talk about it.” Connie said the same seven words she been saying all day.


“You’ve changed.” Lucy muttered. “You’re not the friend I remember from last week. What’s going on, Connie? Why the sudden reluctance to talk?”


“I’m sorry, Lu. I’m really sorry. I can’t tell you, not yet. I’m not ready to.” Connie blinked back the tears as she left her friend behind. What’s going on, Connie? I wish I knew.

* * *

“Missed you last week, Connie. Is everything all right?”


“I guess.” Connie shrugged continuing to put her clarinet together.


She felt her teacher’s eyes on her back as she pulled the music from her bag and put it on the stand.


“I hope you’ve been practicing.” Steve watched her securing the reed in place.


She froze for a moment before carrying on. Her expression was carefully guarded and remained blank from any obvious emotion.


“Ok, let’s see how your scales are coming on. F harmonic minor, Trotzig.”


Connie raised the instrument to her mouth. She knew it wasn’t as good as the last time she’d played it, but at least she managed to get through it without making any mistakes.


“Very good. F natural minor, Lebhaft und mit wut.”


Connie glanced at her notes. She wasn’t clear on the German characteristics for her scales, having never studied the German language, only the French language. Great, he would give me that one wouldn’t he?


There was plenty of rage, but it wasn’t very lively. Steve refrained from commenting. He could see her frustration quite clearly.


“All right, F chromatic. Whichever character you want.”


Connie knew which one she wanted to do, but to pull it off was another matter entirely. Instead she went for the one she found the easiest.


“Sehr ruhig. Very nicely done.” Steve placed some music on the piano stand. “How are you getting on with the pieces?”


“Um, ok, I guess.” Connie shrugged.


“Ok. We’ll start with the Victorian Kitchen Garden piece. You were doing well with that one last time I saw you.”


Connie nodded and placed the book at the centre of the stand. Opening it to the right page she took a deep calming breath. I can do this.


“Ready?”


She nodded again, raising the clarinet to her mouth as Steve began the introduction on the piano.


“Put some more feeling into it, Connie!” Steve knew this was one aspect she struggled with a lot. “Let the music flow.”


Connie could feel the tears gathering as she played. Her father had loved this piece. He’d loved hearing her playing it.


She had to grip her clarinet tightly so Steve didn’t see her hands shaking when she’d finished playing.


“I think you can do well with this piece, Connie, but you have to relax more when you’re playing it.”


She nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to keep it together. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d broken down in a clarinet lesson.


“Ok, let’s try the Rondo. We can come back to this one later.”


Connie rearranged her music again so that the next piece was visible. She’d been struggling a lot with this one and doubted she would be able to have it ready for her grade exam. Tricky rhythms, lots of accidentals and tangled emotions were not a good combination. She managed to get through the first five bars before stumbling. She frowned and went back over the few bars again.


“Why don’t we try playing it together?”


She hadn’t noticed Steve getting his own clarinet out. She listened as he played the short section, then tried playing it with him. That time she managed to play the nine bar passage pretty well.


“Good, try it on your own again.” Steve said after they’d played it together a few times.


Connie started from the beginning again, and once again fumbled the sixth bar. After another two failed attempts she knew she wouldn’t be able to play it at all that day. She gently placed her clarinet on the instrument stand beside the music stand.


“Excuse me.” She moved away from the stands towards the door of the recording studio.


Steve hung back. He knew she wouldn’t want him to see her when she was so upset, but at the same time he felt she could use a few gentle words of comfort. Before he could take a step after her she was back.


“Are you all right, Connie?”


“Yeah, I’m ok. Things are little…unsettling at home.”

* * *

Carl folded his newspaper and dropped it onto the table in the corner. He stretched and made his way into the kitchen. It was one of his rare days off, and he wanted to be there for Connie when she returned from school. She’d been very quiet over dinner the night before, not that he’d expected anything else, not when she’d found out that her father had died only hours before. As he filled the kettle he heard the front door slam shut and footsteps going up the stairs.





Connie tossed her jacket onto the end of the bed, kicked her shoes into the corner of the room and grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Carl had taken her into the city the weekend before to get some clothes. He’d bought her a few essential items the same night as the fire to keep her going until the weekend. She shook her hair free of the ponytail and headed back downstairs.


She found Carl in the kitchen where he’d just finished getting himself a coffee. She fetched a glass from the cupboard and poured some milk into it.


“How was school?”


“Ok, I guess.”


“You got any homework?”


“A bit.”


“Want any help?”


“What’s with all the questions?” Connie drained the glass and dropped it into the sink. “You can’t replace my father.”


“I don’t want to replace him – ”


“So stop trying to then.” Connie glared at him.


“I’m only trying to help you, Connie.”


“I don’t need your help.”


Carl sighed as Connie disappeared upstairs again. A few moments later he heard the front door slam shut again.





Without even thinking about where she was going or what she was doing, Connie made her way up to the farm. It had changed very little over the last week. The remaining structure had dried out with the lack of rain. The fire and the amount of water the firemen had dumped on the buildings had destroyed just about everything.


She walked up to the remains of her home, falling to her knees at the edge. A little over a week ago she returned home to a house standing tall and proud. Her parents were both there; both prepared to help her get her homework done. Her mother had been baking, and her father was looking at his latest batch of photographs. It was something she would never get to see again. Her father was dead, and her mother still critically ill. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she never heard the car arrive in the yard.





Carl sat behind the driving wheel of his car with Janet beside him. He watched the young redhead that knelt at the edge of the ruins.


“I promised him I’d look after her, that I wouldn’t let her get hurt.”


“You can’t stop her from getting hurt, Carl.” Janet knew she sounded a little harsh and hoped he knew she meant well.


Carl sighed quietly, staring at the figure in front of them. He slowly opened the car door, unfolding his tall figure and going over to her.





Connie felt someone put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up into the dark eyes of her father’s friend. He knelt down beside her as she leaned against him. It had barely been one day since her father had died, but it felt like months. She leaned against his shoulder as the tears started to fall again.


“I miss him so much.” She sobbed as he held her close.


“So do I, kid…so do I.” Carl murmured, feeling a tell-tale dampness on his face.