"Gappy" Dark as Night

Ronny groaned when he got the text

 "Hey. Watup man, hows everything."

He knew that James had likely seen the Facebook picture that had garnered 55 likes and 35 comments, and had something to say about it.

The picture had featured everybody. Sarah, Jen, Mikey, Vaughn, Kwame, Stevie, and Ronny himself, of course. It was a smorgasbord of alumni from the award winning brassband at State U. It was an elite group, featuring only 12 members at a time, and admissions was extremely selective. Under the direction of Dr. Lois Stephens, who had been at State for  the group's entire 15 year history, the group had won many national and international awards.

 In his time at State, Ronny had been president of the group. He had organized auditions, served as a liaison between Dr. Stephens and the horn players, and was the face of the group on campus. He had managed social events, found gigs for the group, and been the point of contact when the group went on tour yearly. The job had been difficult, but it had been highly rewarding.

At the time he had won the position, he had only been a sophomore, but he had somehow won the respect of his peers older than him. He was kind but firm, conscientious but decisive, and he made the brass band a priority of his collegiate existence. His greatest contribution had been starting an alumni group that actively sought to keep former members in the fold. He had organized the band's first annual "Play Along" in which group members past and present performed a concert for friends and family, raised money for the group, and ended by having a huge keg party. In three years of leadership, he was responsible for having raised $35,000 for the group, and had ushed in what had financially been the strongest position the group had ever been in.

 That had been 5 years ago and now, as a seasoned alumnus, he was still quite active. He visited State regularly as he lived in the city only 45 minutes away, and he knew every member of the current band,  down to the youngest freshman who was almost 9 years his junior.

 On Saturday, while Ronny had been waiting for some buddies of his at a bar in the city, he had seen Sarah and Jen, quite unexpectedly. They were  trumpet players a year older than he who he hadn't realized had recently moved to the city . They rejoiced at the chance meeting, shared drinks, and called friends of there's from the band who they knew lived relatively near. By the time the night was over, 7 of them had happily gathered, consumed beers, taken pictures, and had a great time.

 Now, throughly hungover in his bed having been out til 4am,  Ronny strained to read the new text that was coming into his phone.

"Did you meet up with anyone, or watever," James had inquired cryptically.

 Ronny got out of his bed, and trudged to the bathroom to take a beer shit. After washing his hands, he moved to the coffee machine to start a brew. As the coffee filtered, he thought about James.

 They had been the same year, and both were trombone players. James was outstanding on the bass trombone, and Ronny had played tenor. They had been the only two from their class to make the esteemed group their freshman year, and they had become fast friends. By the end of freshman year, it was clear that Ronny was becoming a star in the group. His consistent work ethic, and affable personality had already made an impression on the group, and it was obvious he was the future of the leadership of the band.

 James had been jealous. He masked it by throwing out joking barbs about Ronny's trombone playing, claiming that he lacked musicality. He laughed about the fact that Ronny looked "as black as night,"  even though his own skin was only a bit lighter. For the gap in between his teeth, James called Ronny "Gappy," and he always had something to say about Ronny's love of oversized jeans.  When, at the end of their freshman year,  Ronny won a solo over James and another of the trombone players, James jokingly claimed it was because Ronny was "whoring himself out" to the director,  Dr. Stephens, who was already in her 50s.

 Ronny had taken it all in stride. He clearly saw past the "jokes," and he recognized his friend just needed to blow off steam.  He could understand why his friend was developing envy. Even he recognized that his rise in the group had been somewhat arbitrary, and he felt bad for the fact that his friend wasn't better liked.

 In the fall of the following year, when Ronny had won the presidency, James' jealousy crested another level. At the discussion in which the group decided on Ronny's candidacy, James had said that he believed that Ronny was selling band arrangements to College State, their rivals. When the group had protested this wild accusation, he had changed tactics, claiming that he was certain that Ronny's affair with Dr. Stephens would "come out" and ultimately "slam the band's reputation." Evidently, James' jests had crystalized into reality in his mind.

 Of course all this was heresay for Ronny. As the candidate for president,he had not been allowed in on the discussion. Many of his band members, however, confirmed the outrageous accusations made and, from the outset of his presidency, the relationship between James and him was somewhat strained. Still though, Ronny had refused to be wholly upset. In fact, he began to grow concerned for his friend. He observed that James had started to drink very heavily even by college standards, about 20 beers a night, 5 to 6 times a week. Each binge was followed by inconsolable crying. Ronny also noted that James had begun telling tall tales about his sexual conquests on campus, and seemed to forget that he often told the same story over and over again. His trombone playing became ragged and unfocused, and it was clear he was not giving enough attention to practicing his instrument.

 James' depreciating skills on the trombone did not go unnoticed by Dr. Stephens, and during rehearsal she once called him out, privately. She was a soft spoken sort of director which only made her criticisms more deadly. She reminded him that if he did not keep up his skills, she would advise bass trombone players  on the waiting list to issue a challenge against him that could very well remove him. 

One afternoon in late November of their sophomore year, during their daily rehearsal, Dr. Stephens stopped the band and isolated the trombone section. The passage was complex and highly technical, and it was clear that the section was not unison on the musical line.  After listening to the section play together, she went down the line, to hear each person individually. She began with Ronny who played the tenor 1 line with relative ease. Stephens noted that his tuning could use some work, but it was clear he had the kinks of the technique worked out.  The second and third trombone players were similarly flawed. When she called for James to begin to play he just stared at her definitely.  When she asked what was wrong with him he laughed, and shouted in a voice that was thickly slurred with alcohol.

 "Dr. Stephens, are you fucking Ronny? I don't blame you, I just wanna know. You're probably into them dark-chocolate colored niggas aren't you."

 The air in the room had been sucked out as everyone froze. Dr. Stephens blinked, and then said in a remarkably calm voice.

 "James, you may leave. Please, do not ever come back."

 "Fine," James had said, as he staggered out of his seat, his bass trombone dangling perilously in his hand, "I fuckin' hate this shit anyway."

 He had been put on probation and he never did play with the band again. In fact, he had disappeared altogether for an entire semester. He told no one where he went, and did not return anybody's texts or calls. His Facebook page remained completely untouched. He seemed to have vanished in thin air. 

Some speculated he dropped out of school. Others believed that his father had sent him to the military to straighten up what looked to be a drinking problem. Ronny thought that he might be in some sort of mental facility.

 The next year, when James had suddenly reappeared on campus, Ronny had been happy to see him. He had been very disconcerted, however, when James pretended  as though a full 8 months of non-communication hadn't happened. He told the same tales of sexual prowess, and joked about Ronny's "dark as night" complexion.  By this time, Ronny's involvement in the brass band was more dynamic than ever and he had little time for James' offensive jibes. When James left campus again, Ronny hadn't really inquired. The friendship had long been over.

 As a graduate, Ronny had seen James several times at the annual State U. homecoming gathering in October.  James had become extremely gaunt, and he looked very old. Each time they met, they had a conversation where they feigned interest in what each was up to.  Ronny was working as a music arranger for a small time broadway producer and James claimed to be in second or third round auditions for "many opportunities" with the New York Philharmonic and the Boston Pops. James ended each of their awkward exchanges with a suggestion that the brass band alums should get together and "play sometime."

 Ronny never understood this last request. He knew that James knew that group alumni members met regularly; the Facebook pictures and recordings of this were obvious enough. It was as though James were too afraid to outright demand that he be included in alumni events. Yet, his consistent insistence that people "get together" seemed to suggest that he believed that he DESERVED an invitation. It was as though James forgot that he had been thrown out of the group. That he had been a pariah. That he had disappeared for months on end with no explanation. That he had cast his own lot with his extremely odd behavior.

 And now, 5 years out, they were still playing games. The texts in his inbox, though oblique, were quite clear to Ronny. James was basically asking a fundamental question that he'd been asking since he was an undergraduate:

 "How come I don't belong?"

Ronny began to text back but he stopped himself. He wasn't sure he knew the answer. He wasn't sure it was his duty to know.