Two Violins, One Love, BAE

Chapter 2 Brett waits for Eddy at the airport and gets stuck on the Gigue

Brett looked at the arrivals screen and sighed. How bloody typical. "Be at the airport, be on time for once," but now his plane was delayed. One whole hour.

Brett knew he had a bit of a punctuality issue, but snarky comments when you haven't seen each other for a month - a month and two days to be precise - felt rather unfair.

Brett wondered whether Eddy had realised that he was much more thin-skinned than he let on. Or perhaps Eddy knew but didn't let on that he knew. Then Brett didn't let on either that he knew that Eddy didn't let on that he knew that he, Brett, was much more thin-skinned than he let on...

Oh, come on, man, get a grip! This was getting too complicated. He didn't need that kind of complicated thinking just now. 

The airport was noisy, full of bustling people and families screaming, or timid-looking old couples rushing with their luggage towards the departure gate. The bright flashing neons, the announcements, the digitalised bell sounds - Eddy would be able to tell him immediately what notes they were and make up a story with the letters, or more likely taunt him with his perfect pitch.

Brett sighed again. If he wasn't careful, he'd get a headache. No he wouldn't. That was Eddy's. Eddy was the one who got the headaches, and the tummy aches, and sometime the bad dreams. Whereas he just soldiered on.

Brett stuffed the camera back inside his bag. He'd been getting ready to record Eddy's arrival through the gates for their vlog until they'd announced the plane had been delayed at its refuelling stop in L.A..

"Anymore delays, and I'll think you've switched to the viola, Eddy, mate," Brett thought.

He'd had too much coffee and sticky doughnuts already. There was nothing else to do but walk back towards the waiting area.

That was one whole hour when he could have stayed at home and practice. He was working on a Bach partita at the moment, the D minor, not his usual passion, but Eddy had said he should "step out of his comfort zone". And it was coming on pretty well, if he may say so himself.

During one of the last face times he'd had with Eddy, he'd played the Courante to him and Eddy said,

"It's not the technical difficulties anymore, it's the stillness. You look like you've found that special still place, man."

Brett felt really good hearing that. He hadn't felt really good during that month apart, but that was a rare moment.

Eddy added, "From the stillness you get to feel the natural pulse of the piece. Don't add to it. Sound is good too, really rounded... but LESS VIBRATO, peuh-lease."

"Damn it, I like a good romantic vibrato. I fell in love with the violin so I could play Sibelius's violin concerto with a VIBRATO!" Brett had replied.

"There's more to life than a thick vibrato, bro," Eddy replied. 

And after that, Brett hadn't felt so good. Were there many more things to life that Eddy had discovered perhaps, in N.Y., which Brett didn't know about? Things that didn't include him anymore?

He'd felt sad, looking away from the screen, and fiddling with his pegs.

But Eddy had just laughed and said the partita was beginning to make sense "almost by itself without him putting too much of himself in it." And that was NOT some bullshit Eddy was repeating from the month-long masterclass he'd just attended at the Juilliard. Nope. 

Brett looked around him. He was in the waiting area. He looked for a free bench, smiling to himself. 

That was typical Eddy. Looking for the magic. The moment when things happen by themselves, like telepathy. Like their almost telepathic connection which made it unnecessary to speak often. Until now perhaps. One month - and two days - apart. How would they reconnect?

Brett found a bench facing the arrival screens and sat down.

What about if they had to speak more. Speak about themselves, that is. Talk about what they felt. What he felt, him, Brett. The rel-... nah, not the R word. They never mentioned the R word.

But maybe they'd have to talk about how they saw the future?

Nah. You don't speak about the future either. You stay in the moment! That's why they loved music. It brought you in the moment.

"The NOW," Eddy would say, pressing his palms together, going all Lǎo cōngmíng rén, wise-old-Asian-man-with-a-beard on him 老聪明.

Eddy for sure had that special still place inside him, and that was why Brett never minded when Eddy played first to his second violin. There was something special and beautiful about Eddy, and it flew out of him spontaneously. Brett was sometimes jealous of that spontaneity to be honest, but he knew it came from an effort to overcome natural... shyness.

That's what it was. Natural. All of it. And unself-conscious. You needed to lose your self-consciousness, lose yourself, when you performed, and Eddy could do that. He was like a flower revealing itself, and Brett's mum would say "Zeng ren mei gui shou you yu xiang!"

So Brett always forgave him. Everything. Even the fact his own mum seemed to like Eddy more than himself at times. He smiled.

Okay. Maybe not quite everything.

Because, that was a bit rich actually, to say, "oh Brett, step out of your comfort zone", "try the partita in D...  That chaconne at the end. Massive. How good is that!"

Wasn't he, Brett, always the one who tried, and dived head first, and took risks. And took the initiative. He smiled again. He certainly took the initiative. He did.

Brett looked up. A woman and her boyfriend on the bench opposite him were staring at him. Brett realised he'd laughed out loud and was still grinning broadly. He quickly wiped his expression off and returned to his favourite default face. The deadpan.

He could carry on smiling as much as he wanted on the inside, and no one would be the wiser. That was his speciality. Divert, befuddle, only smile with the eyes, only for a fraction of a second. That was his magic. He should have been a wizard.

Confundo! Take that, Muggles! The couple opposite was now staring vacantly at their phones. See? It worked. He should get a job with the Harry Potter franchise.

Brett closed his eyes and went through the score of the partita in his head, drumming imperceptibly with the fingers of his left hand on his knee. You didn't know a piece until you knew it by heart. He could make up for the lost practice this way. It wouldn't be all wasted time after all.

He got right to the end of the Gigue, second movement, last one before the mighty Chaconne. "C#, E, F, G, A, E, D, C#..." This was fast, his mind was singing... then half way through the bar, "B, A, E..." Brett's mind got stuck. What came next? That never happened usually. He had the Gigue at the tip of his fingers. Come on, man.

Start again, "C#, E, F, G, A, E, D, C#, B, A..." but again, half way through the bar, "B, A, E... B, A, E...."

BAE. And he's stuck.

One month and two days, and he was beginning to lose his mind. He had stepped outside his comfort zone, he was beginning to realise, and in more ways than one. Wasn't he the brave one, the one who had encouraged Eddy to be brave too, and take up that scholarship and spend one whole month away in the best US music school?

Brett was the one who'd stayed behind in Brisbane, and who had missed his friend so much. Only now, as he sat on that bench, he was willing to admit it. Him, Brett, who always jumped first, who soldiered on, who just "did it". He felt crushed. He looked down at his knees. The truth be told, he was lonely, he'd been horribly lonely all month.

His chest swelled up and he let out a big sigh. He tried to remember. From the start. Before he even knew what loneliness meant. Before he'd ever had anything he would miss, if you took it away from him. He smiled a little because right from the start, he'd been the one who'd taken the initiative, of course. Who "did it." Brett raised his head and sat up straight. And this time he decided, he would not hide his smile from the Muggles.