From the Story Files, #3

Posted on Tue 4th Apr, 2017 @ 9:00pm by

447 words; about a 2 minute read

Remembering love lost.

The crowd in Orchids & Jazz tonight was quiet, the way Jade Lantz liked it. People talked and laughed, a few swayed together on the small dance floor by the band platform, some sat with a drink and listened to the smooth jazz that flowed from the talented fingertips of The Cymbidiums, backing up Dora Deshan. Her tour with Orchids & Jazz would soon be over, and Jade would be sorry to see her go. She had a warm mellow voice that perfectly suited jazz music and the ambiance Jade liked to have pervade the lounge.

Tonight, Deshan was getting off half an hour early. She'd asked and Jade hadn't minded. The El Aurian sensed a little romance in the air, even if it was the short-lived kind. The club owner and her alto sax were filling in with the three-piece combo until midnight when Dennie Moran would take over with a couple of hours of piano, mostly requests from the audience.

Jade was feeling a little melancholy this evening, so when she lifted the sax to her lips, a soft blues tune drifted out, and the Cymbidiums caught on to the mood and followed her lead smoothly. Playing was effortless. She closed her eyes and floated in between the notes she played, a medley of tunes that segued from one to another for almost 25 minutes ... At Last, Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, I Can't Stop Loving You, Unchained Melody, Stardust, Someone to Watch Over Me, Misty ... and one man's face drifting from song to song, from place to place, in her memories.

How she'd loved the music, and the man who introduced her to it. She rarely let herself think of the past, rarely remembered why the beautiful jazz tunes were so important to her that she had built her livelihood around them. Tonight, though, was special. It had slowly crept over her as the day progressed, this feeling of nostalgic loss, and then she'd noticed the date.

She threw herself into the music, allowed herself to drown in it, to skim lightly over the goodness while she pushed away the sorrow. Finally, she came to the last one, and she played the notes with a mix of joy and regret for several minutes. As she brought the half-hour to a close, the words to the chorus of the final song curled through her mind.

And now, I'm glad I didn't know
The way it all would end, the way it all would go.
Our lives are better left to chance.
I could have missed the pain,
But I'd have had to miss the dance.

She wouldn't have missed dancing with Charles Redbird for anything.

 

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