{"id":2938,"date":"2019-03-04T09:15:55","date_gmt":"2019-03-04T16:15:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/?p=2938"},"modified":"2019-03-04T19:33:46","modified_gmt":"2019-03-05T02:33:46","slug":"tober-finds-his-way-part-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/archives\/2938","title":{"rendered":"Tober Finds His Way Part 2"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"rainy<\/a><\/p>\n

On the third day of their new life in the farmhouse at the end of Snake Creek Road, Amelia and Consuela wake in their bed to the sounds of Sharon and Tober talking quietly and moving about in the kitchen.<\/p>\n

\u201cTober is going away today,\u201d says Amelia, speaking softly in Spanish and pronouncing Tober<\/i> Toe-Bare. \u201cI like him. Do you like him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d says Consuela, embracing the cat-sized teddy bear she brought with her from the facility where she and Amelia lived before coming to live with Sharon and Tober. \u201cHe told me he was coming back soon. Maybe tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot tomorrow,\u201d says Amelia, shaking her head. \u201cHe told me, too. But not tomorrow. Maybe the next day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m hungry,\u201d says Consuela, sitting up. \u201cCan we eat now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSharon will give us food,\u201d says Amelia, speaking just above a whisper. \u201cThey have so much food here. Did you see? In the refrigerator? Milk and eggs and tortillas and bread and cheese. Sharon will give us food.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t you call her Mama?\u201d asks Consuela, getting out of bed. \u201cI do. She\u2019s our mother now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d says Amelia, shrugging. \u201cIf she doesn\u2019t take us back to that place today, maybe I\u2019ll call her Mama.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe won\u2019t take us back,\u201d says Consuela, shaking her head. \u201cShe said we can live with her forever.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe told me, too,\u201d says Amelia, climbing out of bed and opening one of the drawers under the bed to find her clothes for the day. \u201cBut\u2026 I don\u2019t know if it\u2019s true.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Tober\u2019s little electric pickup has a range of three hundred and fifty miles on a single charge of the battery, so he plans to spend the night in a motel in Yachats Oregon, which is three hundred miles from Fortuna, and then drive the rest of the way to Portland the next day, another two hundred miles.<\/p>\n

He loves Amelia and Consuela, and he\u2019s sorry to be leaving them just as they are becoming accustomed to him, but he is eager to leave the gravitational pull of Annie and Maybe, and he hopes to find some extraordinary stones on the beaches in Oregon.<\/p>\n

The day of his leaving dawns sunny and cold, and he is deeply touched by the girls following him to and fro as he loads the cab of his truck with his violin, a knapsack carrying various necessities, a small suitcase of clothes, four big jugs of spring water, and a bag of food: nuts and raisins and apples and bananas and bread and goat cheese.<\/p>\n

\u201cTake good care of our mother,\u201d he says in Spanish to Amelia and Consuela, the girls wearing coats that Tober and Augie wore when they were little boys. \u201cI\u2019ll be back in a few days with Augie, your other new brother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGoodbye Tober,\u201d says Amelia, speaking English.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdios hermano,\u201d says Consuela, speaking Spanish. \u201cI hope you find many pretty rocks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope so, too,\u201d he says, waving goodbye to Sharon who is standing on the porch watching her little daughters say goodbye to her big son.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u2206<\/p>\n

When Tober reaches Fortuna where the two-lane country road merges onto the four-lane interstate, he has a pang of sorrow about Annie, but resists his impulse to drive by her place; and seemingly in the next moment he arrives in Eureka, population 25,000, the largest town he\u2019d ever been to until a few months ago when he and Sharon accompanied Augie to Portland.<\/p>\n

He enjoyed that gigantic city for the first two days they were there, and then his nerves began to fray. The incessant noise became physically painful to him, and the countless people, most of whom seemed oblivious to him and to each other, ceased to fascinate him. But the most upsetting thing for him about the city was what he perceived as the violent subjugation of nature, which he felt as a threat to his own life.<\/p>\n

When he told Titus about feeling so threatened in Portland, Titus said, \u201cWell\u2026 that kind of place is<\/i> a threat to life. Because you grew up here, October, surrounded by wilderness and not many people living here, you learned to relate to the earth as your mother, and that\u2019s why you feel her anguish when you go to places where people are hurting her, though that\u2019s not their intention. They are unaware of what they\u2019re doing to her. Each of those millions of people in Portland is just like you. They were born and need food and places to live. The problem is we humans got out of balance with nature when we killed off all the competing species that kept our population at a reasonable number. Just as the pumas keep the deer from being too many, there used to be things that kept humans from being too many, like poisonous bacteria and tigers and famine. But then we got antibiotics and guns and refrigerators and grocery stores, and now there are too many of us. That\u2019s what you were feeling in Portland. Not just that you<\/i> were threatened, but all those people you saw, they were threatened, too, and you felt that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you feel when you go to a big city?\u201d asked Tober, hoping to overcome his fear of Portland so he can enjoy himself when he visits Augie there.<\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t been to a big city since I was thirty,\u201d said Titus, chuckling. \u201cThat\u2019s more than fifty years ago now, the last time I went to San Francisco. My good friend Moses Armstead, we were in the Army together, he became an actor and was in a play in a big theatre down there. So I took the Greyhound bus from Eureka to San Francisco and went to that play four nights in a row. I didn\u2019t like the play very much, but I loved seeing Moses up on that stage. He was so happy to be in that play, making his living as an actor. I slept on the sofa in his apartment and every day we walked around the city together. There were lots of beautiful women, and I was happy to see them. There were lots of beggars, too, and that made me sad. But what I remember most vividly about San Francisco was a woman playing her guitar and singing in this tunnel you went through to get to the subway. She was wearing a black and white shirt like the black and white of those dairy cows, Holsteins, with long sleeves and cufflinks made of silver dollars. And the shirt was tucked into a dark brown leather skirt that came down just enough to cover her knees, and she was wearing a red cowboy hat and shiny black cowboy boots. Her nose was small and straight and she had dark green eyes like Augie\u2019s, and her lips formed a heart she\u2019d painted glossy red. She was a really good guitar player, as good as Augie, but it was her voice that astonished me, like there was a hawk keening inside her and the keening came out as the most beautiful singing I\u2019ve ever heard. That\u2019s what I think about whenever I think of San Francisco. I think of that woman dancing as she played her guitar, her skirt swinging as she played, and her beautiful voice echoing in that tunnel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Twenty miles south of Gold Beach, Tober turns off the coast highway and follows a dirt track a hundred yards to a bluff overlooking a white sand beach stretching as far as Tober can see to the north and south. He locks his truck, takes his violin and a bag of walnuts with him, and follows a slender trail down through a lush stand of dune grass to the beach.<\/p>\n

He has no intention of playing his violin on the beach, but he would never leave the valuable instrument where it might be stolen, however remote that possibility. Olaf Bokulich, the principal First Violin of the Eureka Symphony, sold Tober the forty-thousand-dollar violin and seven-thousand-dollar bow two years ago for just twenty thousand dollars because he, Olaf, is profoundly enamored of Sharon, who also plays violin in the Eureka Symphony, and she had mentioned to him that Tober was ready for a better instrument than the very good violin he\u2019d had since he was thirteen.<\/p>\n

A widower in his late sixties, Olaf makes no secret of his adoration of Sharon, and to every rehearsal and performance of the orchestra he brings her a gift: a bottle of wine or a basket of fruit or a book or a CD of classical music or a gift certificate to a fine women\u2019s clothing store in Arcata. Having made it abundantly clear that she has no interest in being in a relationship with him beyond cordial friendship, Sharon graciously accepts Olaf\u2019s gifts and occasionally goes out with him for an early supper before a rehearsal.<\/p>\n

A few years ago, Tober and Augie asked Sharon why, if she didn\u2019t want to encourage Olaf\u2019s romantic pursuit of her, she accepted his gifts.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know him very well now from playing in the symphony with him for all these years,\u201d she explained, \u201cand I know if I don\u2019t<\/i> accept his gifts, his feelings will be terribly hurt and he will cease to be our happy section leader. It gives him great pleasure to give me things, and so long as he understands that I consider him a generous uncle, and not relationship material, I enjoy our friendship. Should he ever become more aggressive in pursuing me, I will put a stop to it, believe me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober has been playing the violin since he was five, Sharon his primary teacher, and he was an accomplished violinist when he bought the hundred-year-old French violin and the seventy-year old German bow from Olaf; but his two years of practicing with the exquisite instrument has lifted his playing into a whole other realm, and he can\u2019t imagine going back to a lesser violin.<\/p>\n

He stands twenty feet back from where the waves are exhausting themselves on the porous sand, and he sees no obvious fields of stones to the south. However, when he looks northward, something tells him to go that way, so he does, and he\u2019s pleased to see no signs of humans ever having done anything on this stretch of coast except walk here.<\/p>\n

A mile along the wild shore, he comes to a rain-swollen stream transecting the beach, and he is delighted to see troves of small stones exposed on either side of the stream.<\/p>\n

Leaving his violin and bow atop his jacket on the dry sand out of reach of the waves, Tober begins a careful search for the two kinds of stones he\u2019s interested in. One kind are stones possessed of energies he can feel when he holds them in his hand; and for the purpose of selling stones to Germaine who owns Eclectica, a most unusual gift shop in Arcata, or to Maybe for resale at Good Used Stuff, he is on the lookout for beautifully-shaped stones.<\/p>\n

Sometimes beauty and special energy reside in the same stone, and these are the ones Tober sells for prices that strike most people as absurdly high, since these are not crystals or rare gems, but merely stones. Yet there are people willing to pay hundreds and even thousands of dollars for some of Tober\u2019s stones, for these people believe his stones are rarer than gold; and that is how Tober earned most of the money he used to buy Olaf\u2019s violin and bow.<\/p>\n

He searches for an hour, his time limited by his desire to reach Yachats before dark, and finds eleven stones he knows he\u2019ll be able to sell for good prices, and one stone brimming with vibrant energy\u2014a perfect equilateral triangle, each side about two-inches long, coal black, with rounded edges, a third-of-an-inch thick, and smooth as silk. He knows Germaine will give him at least five hundred dollars for this stone, though he intends to carry it in his pocket for some weeks before parting ways with such a splendid companion.<\/p>\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u2206<\/p>\n

On the road again, enjoying the passing scenery\u2014the ocean and beaches and spectacular rock formations to his left, the green hills to his right\u2014Tober holds the triangular stone in his right hand and thinks about the singing cowgirl Titus remembers from San Francisco.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what I want to do,\u201d he says to the road ahead. \u201cI want to touch people with my music the way she touched Titus.\u201d<\/p>\n

Having said this, he imagines finding a place in a park in Portland where he can play his violin for the people who are just like him, people who need food and places to live and other people to love.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u2206<\/p>\n

In the late afternoon, after one more stop to search for stones, Tober arrives in Yachats, checks into his room at the Fireside Motel on the northern edge of town, starts recharging his truck battery, and lies down to rest a little before supper and watch movies on what Titus calls the mind screen: Maybe handing him a thousand dollars and saying No hard feelings<\/i>, Sharon watching Consuela carefully fill Igor\u2019s bowl with kibble, Annie awaiting him naked in her bed, Titus saying, \u201cJust think, October. The next time you make love with a woman, you\u2019ll be able to please her because of all the wildly good things you learned from Annie.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u2206<\/p>\n

When the first stars of the evening appear in the cloudless sky, Tober walks into the little town to have fish & chips at a place called Lunasea<\/i> where he and Augie and Sharon stopped on their way to Portland in August.<\/p>\n

The waitress reminds him of Annie, though she looks nothing like her. Something in the way she saunters as she makes her rounds of the few tables, never in a hurry, reminds him of the day he and Titus were in the Double D Steakhouse<\/i> in Fortuna and Annie waited on them, and as she sauntered away with their order, Titus said, \u201cShe seems very interested in you, October, in case you\u2019re looking for a girlfriend.\u201d<\/p>\n

He\u2019d forgotten Titus encouraged him to pursue Annie, perhaps because he never again associated Titus with Annie, for she never wanted to accompany him when he went to be with Titus and Tina.<\/p>\n

That should have told me all I needed to know<\/i> he thinks as he watches the waitress blabbing with the elderly couple at the adjoining table except I was obsessed with making love with her.<\/i><\/p>\n

The waitress smiles warmly at Tober and says, \u201cI forgot to ask you if you wanted anything to drink. We\u2019ve got a delicious Pilsner on tap, if you like Pilsner.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m only nineteen,\u201d says Tober, shrugging pleasantly. \u201cI\u2019ll have a lemonade if it\u2019s not too sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNineteen?\u201d she says, skeptically. \u201cI thought you were twenty-five.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow old are you?\u201d he asks innocently.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow old do you think?\u201d she asks, arching her eyebrow.<\/p>\n

Tober waits for a number to pop into his head. \u201cTwenty-seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

She laughs. \u201cAdd ten, sweetheart. I\u2019ve got a daughter two years younger than you. And the lemonade comes in a bottle. You won\u2019t like it. Way too much sugar.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWater\u2019s fine,\u201d says Tober, gazing at her. \u201cYou give new meaning to the word ageless<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you give new meaning to the word charming<\/i>,\u201d she says, sauntering away.<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u2206<\/p>\n

In the morning, his battery fully charged, Tober goes to Green Salmon, one of the two coffee houses in Yachats, to have breakfast and write down the dream he woke from, a dream in which he was fleeing from unseen pursuers, carrying his violin in one hand, a tiny yellow bird in the other.<\/p>\n

He takes his violin and his notebook into the busy caf\u00e9, and while standing in line to place his order, he looks around for a likely place to sit\u2014all the tables occupied and no one in any apparent hurry to leave. There is an empty seat at a table for four, the three occupants intriguing to Tober: an elderly man with frizzy white hair and a pointy white goatee, a solemn middle-aged woman wearing a forest green serape, her black hair in a long braid, and a jittery girl with black hair in pigtails and brilliant blue eyes wearing a tan Boy Scout uniform and a purple tie.<\/p>\n

Having placed his order, he makes his way through the voluble coffee drinkers to the table of the intriguing trio, and having judged the middle-aged woman to be the alpha, he makes eye contact with her before nodding to the older fellow with the goatee and smiling at the jittery girl.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I share your table with you?\u201d he asks, bowing ever so slightly to the woman.<\/p>\n

\u201cPlease,\u201d she says, gesturing regally to the empty chair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d says Tober, sitting down and setting his violin case on the floor beside him.<\/p>\n

The elderly man purses his lips and asks, \u201cWhere are you from? We know all the local musicians, so you must be from somewhere else.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober smiles at the man\u2019s New Jersey accent and says, \u201cI live near Fortuna, south of Eureka. I recognize your accent because it\u2019s identical to my mother\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWould you play your violin for us?\u201d asks the girl, wiggling in her chair. \u201cPlease?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d love to,\u201d says Tober, nodding, \u201cbut I don\u2019t want to bother the other diners.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow civilized of you,\u201d says the woman, her New Jersey accent mild compared to the old man\u2019s. \u201cWe know virtually everyone here at the moment and I\u2019m sure none of them would object to hearing a tune.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll go ask Glenna,\u201d says the girl, jumping up and running to the counter.<\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome to Yachats,\u201d says the man, his eyes twinkling. \u201cI\u2019m Phil Vogel. This is my daughter Ruth Livingston. The restless scout is Sylvia, Ruth\u2019s daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Tober,\u201d says Tober, delighted with Phil and Ruth and Sylvia. \u201cAre you musicians?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI play the piano a little,\u201d says Phil, miming playing a keyboard, \u201cbut I wouldn\u2019t call myself a musician. I was a recording engineer for forty years. Ruth, on the other hand, is a very fine musician, and Sylvia will be once she starts practicing a little more diligently.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you play?\u201d asks Tober, looking at Ruth and sensing she is deeply sad about something.<\/p>\n

\u201cPiano,\u201d she says quietly. \u201cAnd violin.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now Sylvia comes rushing back to the table with permission from Glenna, the caf\u00e9 manager, for Tober to play a tune or two.<\/p>\n

\u201cOn that note,\u201d says Tober, putting his violin case on the table, \u201cwhat would you like to hear, Sylvia?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever you\u2019d like to play,\u201d she says, holding perfectly still as Tober brings forth his lovely old violin and bow.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell\u2026\u201d says Tober, quietly tuning his violin, \u201cI\u2019ve been working on a new sonata that sprang from a few bars in a Second Violin part in Mendelssohn\u2019s Italian Symphony<\/i>, his revised version. Third movement. Shall I play a little of that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, do,\u201d says Ruth, nodding enthusiastically. \u201cWe dote on Mendelssohn at our house.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober sets bow to strings, closes his eyes, and plays a single long eloquent note that silences the fifty people in the place and leads into a brief melancholic song inspired by Tober\u2019s recent heartbreak\u2014his playing eloquent, his tone breathtaking.<\/p>\n

When he finishes the song, everyone in the place applauds, he bows, and several people call for him to play something more. So he blazes through a few fanciful variations on \u201cNorwegian Wood\u201d by the Beatles, and sits down to more applause and Bravos<\/i>.<\/p>\n

As he\u2019s putting his violin away, Ruth says, \u201cThat was fantastic. I can\u2019t tell you how much I appreciated that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI loved<\/i> what you played,\u201d says Sylvia, gaping at Tober. \u201cOh my God, I just loved<\/i> it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d says Tober, smiling brightly. \u201cThank you for asking me to play.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you in town for long?\u201d asks Ruth, her eyes sparkling. \u201cI\u2019d love to play with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ve got to be in Portland by this afternoon,\u201d says Tober, shrugging apologetically. \u201cBut I\u2019ll be coming back this way with my brother in a couple days, and I could play with you then. Yachats is where we recharge our electric truck.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStay with us,\u201d says Phil, nodding emphatically. \u201cWe\u2019ve got a guest house nobody\u2019s in right now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll try to get the piano tuned before you come back,\u201d says Ruth, getting her phone out of her purse to find the piano tuner\u2019s number. \u201cSo\u2026 today\u2019s Saturday. Think you\u2019ll be back here Tuesday?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s the plan,\u201d says Tober, figuring backwards from the coming Thursday. \u201cWe want to get home by Wednesday night so we\u2019ll be there all day for Thanksgiving.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGreat,\u201d says Phil, clinking his mug with Sylvia\u2019s. \u201cTuesday it is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhere do you perform, Tober?\u201d asks Ruth, enchanted with him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt home,\u201d he says innocently. \u201cWe had a quartet, my mother and brother and I and a friend, the Snake Creek Quartet. We played in Arcata a bunch of times, and played for weddings and benefits and things like that, but Augie\u2019s in graduate school now so I just play on my own or with my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou should play at Carnegie Hall,\u201d says Sylvia, matter-of-factly. \u201cOr on America\u2019s Got Talent<\/i>. You\u2019d win easily.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHold that thought,\u201d says Tober, going to get his omelet.<\/p>\n

On his way to the pickup counter, several people tell him how much they enjoyed his playing; and when the young woman behind the counter hands him his plate of food, she says, \u201cWe want to comp you breakfast. Hold on a sec, I\u2019ll give you your money back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh gosh, no,\u201d says Tober, blushing. \u201cPlease keep it as a tip, and thanks so much for letting me play.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAny time,\u201d she says, nodding hopefully. \u201cYou made everybody happy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0 \u2206<\/p>\n

On the road again, Tober ponders his good fortune and realizes that playing in the Green Salmon caf\u00e9 was the first time in his life he has ever performed in public without Augie or Sharon or both of them playing with him, and though he enjoyed playing solo, he would much rather have played with Augie or Sharon or\u2026 maybe someone else.<\/i><\/p>\n

He wishes Titus or Augie were with him so he could tell them how different he felt performing alone\u2014being the sole focus of attention making him feel so much more vulnerable than when he performs with others.<\/p>\n

\u201cYet it may have been that very vulnerability,\u201d says Tober, speaking to Titus, \u201cthat created such a powerful intimacy with the audience.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot to mention,\u201d he imagines Titus saying, \u201cyou\u2019re a different person than you were before you had a lover and then lost your lover. Those experiences are in your music now, October, so the people resonate with you now as never before.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

When Tober reaches the town of Reedsport, he leaves the coast highway and heads inland on Highway 38, a two-lane road that closely follows the mighty Umqua River to Interstate 5.<\/p>\n

At the east end of Reedsport, Tober stops for a hitchhiker, a not very tall but enormous woman with short gray hair wearing a ratty brown coat and gray sweat pants and black rubber boots. A bulging bag of groceries stands on the ground beside her and she\u2019s holding a raggedy little white poodle under her left arm; and Tober almost doesn\u2019t stop for her because he senses something sinister about her, though she appears to be harmless.<\/p>\n

Tober leans across the seat, rolls down the passenger side window, and says to the woman, \u201cI\u2019ll need to rearrange a few things before you get in.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d she says wearily, her voice raspy. \u201cI\u2019m only going twelve miles. Gonna start raining any minute now.\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober gets out of his truck, stows his violin and knapsack behind the seat, and comes around the nose of the truck to open the passenger door for the woman.<\/p>\n

She hands him her dog and climbs in with much grunting and groaning, and when she\u2019s all the way in, Tober hands her the dog and her bag of groceries, goes back around the nose of the truck, and resumes his place behind the wheel.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m Tober,\u201d he says, smiling at the woman.<\/p>\n

\u201cLauren,\u201d she says, struggling to get the seatbelt across her body, but it is too small for her girth. \u201cNot Laura. Not Lorna. Not Laurie. Lauren. This is Gully. She rolled in something dead. That\u2019s what you\u2019re smelling.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about the seatbelt,\u201d says Tober, easing his truck back onto the road. \u201cI\u2019ll drive carefully.\u201d<\/p>\n

Now the clouds burst and heavy rain begins to fall.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was close,\u201d says Lauren, her breath rancid. \u201cI thought somebody I knew would come by, but nobody did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you not own a car?\u201d asks Tober, noting how the truck is listing starboard with so much weight on that side.<\/p>\n

\u201cI own one,\u201d she says, nodding slowly, \u201cbut it doesn\u2019t run right now. Needs a new radiator and brakes and stuff. I don\u2019t really need it except for going to town, and people give me rides, so\u2026\u201d She nods. \u201cWhere you from?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEureka,\u201d he says, repulsed by Gully\u2019s sickly scent.<\/p>\n

\u201cI went to college at Humboldt State,\u201d she says, nodding. \u201cFor a year. Very polluted around there. You might not think so, but it is. I know because I spent a long time trying to find a place where I could afford to live that wasn\u2019t toxic for me. I\u2019m sensitive to chemicals and carbon monoxide and microwaves, so I did a lot of research before I moved here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFortunately, I live a long way from Eureka near the mouth of the Eel River,\u201d says Tober, wondering how Amelia and Consuela are getting along in their new home. \u201cNot very polluted there.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s what you think,\u201d she says, sneering. \u201cThey spray chemicals everywhere now. You can be in a forest fifty miles from the nearest town and the place will be soaked with chemicals and pesticides. And if there\u2019s a cell tower anywhere nearby, you\u2019re being fried with microwaves twenty-four seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you do, Lauren?\u201d asks Tober, changing the subject as his truck labors up a steep stretch of the road. \u201cWith your time?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I\u2019m ill,\u201d she says, glaring at him, \u201cso I have to rest a lot. And I do a lot of research on my computer about my illness and various healing modalities. I cook and try to keep my place clean, but it isn\u2019t easy because I get tired so quickly. I have a boyfriend who comes by a couple times a week, so\u2026 I\u2019m on disability, so\u2026 what do you do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a violinist,\u201d says Tober, thinking about this morning and how when he played the last note of his variations on \u201cNorwegian Wood\u201d, everyone in the caf\u00e9 beamed at him\u2014what a lovely moment that was. \u201cAnd a carpenter and\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI play the guitar,\u201d says Lauren, cutting him off. \u201cNeeds new strings. Won\u2019t stay in tune. I used to be pretty good before my fingers got so swollen.\u201d She shrugs. \u201cThat\u2019s part of my illness. My thyroid is damaged from chemicals and my hormones are all fucked up from toxins and microwaves, so\u2026 it\u2019s just another few miles. I\u2019d appreciate it if you could drive me to my house. I\u2019m about a half-mile off the highway so I\u2019m out of range of fumes from diesel trucks and car exhaust.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll be happy to drive you to your house,\u201d says Tober, feeling woozy and sick to his stomach.<\/p>\n

And guessing the cause of his malady might be Lauren, Tober rolls down his window, despite the rain and the cold, and breathes deeply of the untainted air, and his physical distress diminishes somewhat.<\/p>\n

When they reach Lauren\u2019s ramshackle mobile home in a sparse forest of young fir trees, Lauren invites Tober to come in, but he declines, saying he\u2019s in a hurry to get to Portland to see his brother.<\/p>\n

\u201cPortland\u2019s a toxic death trap,\u201d she says, squinting at him. \u201cWould you help me get out? I think I might fall if you don\u2019t help me.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Tober comes around to the passenger door, takes Gully from Lauren, sets her on the ground, and gives Lauren a hand climbing out of the truck.<\/p>\n

And Lauren does almost fall, several times, as Tober helps her to her front door, which he opens for her<\/p>\n

\u201cCould you help me sit down before you go?\u201d she says, breathing hard. \u201cAnd get me some water?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCertainly,\u201d he says, sickened by the stench of rot permeating her home.<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

When Tober has put ten miles between him and Lauren\u2019s house\u2014the rain abating and the sun peeking out from behind tattered clouds\u2014he pulls off the highway into a county park on the banks of the mighty Umqua and finds no other cars or people here in what is essentially a parking lot with a boat ramp for launching small boats into the river.<\/p>\n

He parks near the boat ramp, gets out of his truck, takes off all his clothes, save for his underwear, walks down the boat ramp, and immerses himself in the icy flow, hoping to wash away the poisons he absorbed from Lauren.<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Garbed in clean clothes and feeling much revived, Tober resumes his journey along the Umqua, clasping his newly-found triangular stone in his left hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cI wonder if she has that effect on everyone,\u201d he says, desperate to talk to Titus, \u201cor if she\u2019s only poisonous to me because I don\u2019t know how to shield myself from her kind of energy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Another thirty miles on the winding road brings Tober to the small town of Drain, where after cruising slowly through the town in search of a pay phone and finding none, he pulls into a gas station and asks the attendant, a young woman with bleached blonde hair and heavy makeup, if she knows of any nearby payphones.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere used to be one at the post office,\u201d she says, shaking her head, \u201cbut they got rid of it a couple years ago. I\u2019ve got an unlimited plan. You can use my phone.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be wonderful,\u201d says Tober, getting out his wallet. \u201cWould ten dollars be enough? I\u2019m calling someone near Eureka.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh you don\u2019t have to pay me,\u201d she says, handing him her phone. \u201cI\u2019ve got unlimited.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm\u2026\u201d he says, taking the phone from her, \u201cI don\u2019t know how to use these. Could you dial for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean like\u2026 enter the number you want to call?\u201d she says, frowning quizzically.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d says Tober, handing the phone back to her.<\/p>\n

He slowly recites Titus\u2019s number, she enters the digits, and hands the phone back to him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI gotta go pump some gas,\u201d she says, hurrying away. \u201cDon\u2019t steal my phone, okay?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d says Tober, hoping Titus will answer.<\/p>\n

And when Titus does answer, Tober speaks at length about how he felt his spirit being crushed by something emanating from her and how opening the window and breathing the unsullied air revived him somewhat, but when he escorted her into her house, he grew incredibly weak again, as if gripped by some terrible flu, only worse, as if he was dying, and would<\/i> have died had he stayed with her much longer.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that just me, Titus?\u201d he asks urgently. \u201cBecause I\u2019m too open or\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, my son,\u201d says Titus, his voice shaking. \u201cYou met a psychic vampire, and I don\u2019t mean she isn\u2019t human. I mean she is so damaged, so emotionally deformed she has become a psychic leech. I have known several people like this woman, and not all of them were physically ill, but all of them very dangerous. They suck the life out of other people, not just you, October. Everyone who comes into contact with them. It\u2019s a terrible thing. I know of no cure for what is wrong with them, and the best thing you can do if you ever meet another one of these people is get away as fast as you can.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

Tober arrives in Portland at two in the afternoon with three hours to spare before Augie gets home from his Saturday job. So he drives into the heart of the city and leaves his truck in a parking garage under Director\u2019s Park, a big plaza with a large fountain at one end, and goes forth with his violin to find a likely place to play for people.<\/p>\n

Downtown Portland on a Saturday is very different than downtown Portland Monday through Friday, for though most of the nine-to-fivers are absent, thousands of people swarm in from the suburbs to enjoy the commercial and cultural amenities of downtown Portland, and thousands of teenagers free from school for the weekend roam around and hang out in the downtown parks and squares and caf\u00e9s\u2014the wonderfully sunny day making the urban center especially appealing after weeks of rain and cold.<\/p>\n

And everywhere Tober looks there are homeless people, men and women and children, some of them begging from passersby, but most of them just enjoying the sun until the cold and darkness will send them to wherever they\u2019ve found to sleep.<\/p>\n

Director\u2019s Park strikes Tober as good as any place to play his music, so he walks to the center of the square, gets out his violin, and begins to play a slow dreamy version of \u201cMolly Malone\u201d; and he is immediately surrounded by a dozen people, seven of them filming him with their phones.<\/p>\n

By the time Tober finishes playing the old Irish ballad, there are forty-some people around him, many of them filming him with their phones.<\/p>\n

Now a smartly dressed woman approaches him and says, \u201cYou need to open your case so we can give you money.\u201d<\/p>\n

So Tober opens his violin case, the woman places a five-dollar bill therein, and he is inspired to reprise his improvisational rendering of \u201cNorwegian Wood\u201d, exploring the melodic possibilities of the tune for much longer than he did at the Green Salmon caf\u00e9.<\/p>\n

At song\u2019s end, the fast-growing audience cheers, and money rains down into Tober\u2019s violin case.<\/p>\n

Now a middle-aged man wearing a gorgeous purple shirt and stylish black slacks, calls out with a thick Brazilian accent, \u201cDo you play any Joao Gilberto?\u201d<\/p>\n

Tober nods and begins a tender rendition of \u201cThe Girl From Ipanema,\u201d climaxing the iconic tune with a long improvised referencing of several other Gilberto songs before returning to the original \u201cIpanema\u201d melody that brings a roar of approval from the now hundreds of people listening to him and filming him\u2014his violin case overflowing with money; some of the bills blowing away in a sudden breeze.<\/p>\n

Two children, a boy and a girl, break away from two different sets of parents and chase the fluttering bills and catch them and bring them back to the violin case where they carefully weight the bills down with coins.<\/p>\n

Tober thanks the children and asks, \u201cAny song you\u2019d like to hear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnother Beatles song?\u201d says the boy, his accent British. \u201c\u2018Hey Jude\u2019 is my mother\u2019s favorite.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd you?\u201d says Tober, looking at the girl. \u201cIs there a song you\u2019d like to hear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cUm\u2026 \u2018Are you going to the Scarborough Fair\u2019\u201d she says, gazing in awe at him.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwo marvelous choices,\u201d says Tober, smiling around at the vast audience waiting to hear what he\u2019s going to play next.<\/p>\n

He closes his eyes for a long moment, sets bow to strings, and plays \u201cScarborough Fair\u201d using double stops, so it sounds as if two violins are playing a close harmony; and when the famous song is well-established, he begins sneaking in lines from \u2018Hey Jude\u2019 until of a sudden \u2018Hey Jude\u2019 takes over and \u201cScarborough Fair\u201d nearly disappears until the very end of the song when he plays a fantastically conjoined melody that causes the audience to roar with delight.<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

When his audience has dispersed, Tober goes down on his knees to transfer the small fortune in his violin case to his knapsack, and to put his violin and bow in their case; and while he\u2019s on his knees, a woman comes near.<\/p>\n

She is nearly as tall as Tober, broad-shouldered and beautifully proportioned, her skin dark brown, her long black hair in a ponytail, her face exquisite.<\/p>\n

\u201cI regret to say I only heard the last few things you played,\u201d she says in a deep clear voice, \u201cand I would very much like to talk to you. I, too, am a violinist. Do you have a moment?\u201d<\/p>\n

He stands up and gazes in wonder at her. \u201cI have more than a moment. Where shall we go?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCaf\u00e9,\u201d she says, pointing west.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you know what time it is?\u201d he asks, profoundly smitten. \u201cI have to be somewhere shortly after five.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a little after three,\u201d she says, looking into his eyes. \u201cI have to be somewhere at four. That gives us nearly an hour.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLucky me,\u201d says Tober, sighing happily. \u201cAnd I\u2019m not just saying that.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you\u2019re not,\u201d she says, smiling shyly. \u201cLucky me, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

So they traverse the plaza together and Tober marvels at how strong and graceful she is, so graceful he guesses she\u2019s a dancer as well as a violinist.<\/p>\n

\u201cBy the way,\u201d he says, clearing his throat, \u201cmy name is Tober. Short for October. But everyone calls me Tober. Except Titus, but\u2026 anyway\u2026 what\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJasmy,\u201d she says, her cheeks dimpling. \u201cNot short for anything. A common name in Cameroon where my mother lives.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat a beautiful name,\u201d he says, nodding. \u201cEspecially for a musician who might also be a dancer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2206<\/p>\n

They sit across from each other at a little table in a crowded caf\u00e9. She has a double espresso and a chocolate biscotti; he has chicken salad and French fries.<\/p>\n

When Jasmy finally stops effusing about Tober\u2019s playing, she asks him for a thumbnail sketch of his life and he gives her a humorous five-minute version that makes her laugh again and again\u2014and the more she laughs, the more he wants to make her laugh because her laughter is so beautiful to him.<\/p>\n

When he asks her for a thumbnail sketch of her<\/em> life, she says, \u201cYou\u2019re a hard act to follow, October, but I\u2019ll try,\u201d and proceeds to astound him with her story.<\/p>\n

Raised by her white father and his German mother in their tri-lingual home in Mountain Home Idaho, she started playing the violin when she was six, was volleyball superstar in high school and offered athletic scholarships to both Stanford and UCLA while simultaneously winning acceptance to the Eastman School of Music in New York, and ultimately eschewed both college and music school to move to Portland and start a band and work as a studio musician, her band called Ordering Chaos.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn fact,\u201d she says, giving him a wide-eyed inviting look, \u201cwe\u2019re playing tonight at McMenamins Crystal Ballroom and I really<\/i> want you to come. My father is visiting from Idaho and he\u2019s gonna sit it in with us. He\u2019s a stellar guitarist and\u2026\u201d She takes a deep breath. \u201cWould you play with us?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTonight?\u201d says Tober, laughing. \u201cYou mean\u2026 improvise on a couple tunes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she says, overwhelmed by how much she likes him. \u201cOr on three or four. And maybe do a solo or two. Whatever you like.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds wonderful, but\u2026 is it a club where you have to be twenty-one? Because I\u2019m only nineteen and Augie\u2019s only eighteen, so\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re only nineteen?\u201d she says, gaping at him. \u201cI thought you were at least twenty-seven.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow old are you?\u201d he asks, holding his breath.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess,\u201d she says, giving him a comically expectant look.<\/p>\n

\u201cTwenty-six?\u201d he says, biting his lower lip.<\/p>\n

\u201cMinus six,\u201d she says, wrinkling her nose. \u201cWe\u2019re almost the same age. May I ask how tall are you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuess,\u201d he says, giving her a goofy smile.<\/p>\n

\u201cSix-three,\u201d she says, nodding assuredly. \u201cTwo and a half inches taller than I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood guess,\u201d says Tober, impressed. \u201cI\u2019m actually an eighth-of-an-inch shy of six-three. Shall we guess our weights next?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she says, wanting to kiss him, \u201cI don\u2019t think that\u2019s something we should talk about on our first date.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs this a date?\u201d he asks breathlessly. \u201cSurely you have a boyfriend. Plays in the band with you? Or he\u2019s a brilliant jazz pianist saxophone player with a combo of the coolest guys in the world. No?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell you must have a girlfriend,\u201d she rejoins, also breathless. \u201cSome stunning astrophysicist opera singer tantric master? Yes?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cActually,\u201d says Tober, growing serious, \u201cI only just had my first real girlfriend. We were involved for six months, and just five days ago, or maybe it was four, she dumped me. I\u2019m actually quite relieved now that I\u2019m mostly over the shock of it. We had almost nothing in common except\u2026\u201d He clears his throat. \u201cNow I\u2019ve undoubtedly told you more than you wanted to know, but that\u2019s how I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWow,\u201d she says, her eyes sparkling with tears. \u201cQuel coincidence. I just got dumped, too. Three months and two weeks and three days ago. But who\u2019s counting?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot me,\u201d he says, his imagination running wild with scenes from his fabulous love affair with Jasmy. \u201cSo\u2026 what time should my brother and I get to Mc-whatever the palace is?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re playing two sets,\u201d she says, her imagination every bit as active as his. \u201cWe go on at eight, and I was thinking you\u2019d play the second set with us. But come at seven-thirty and I\u2019ll introduce you to everybody and you can watch the first set and see what we\u2019re all about. I\u2019ll put you on the guest list. The show\u2019s sold out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAugie, too, please,\u201d says Tober, wanting very much to kiss her. \u201cThat’s my brother. Augie. Um\u2026 so\u2026 seven-thirty. Do we\u2026 how do we\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGo in the front, give them your name, and I will arrange for someone to bring you backstage.\u201d She looks at him, memorizing his face. \u201cI can\u2019t tell you how glad I am I didn\u2019t do what I usually do on Saturday afternoon before a gig, which is practice and then do some yoga and then take a nap. I was too antsy today, so I just started walking and ended up walking all the way downtown, which I almost never do. And when I was about a block away from Director\u2019s Park, I heard you playing those fantastical variations on \u201cNorwegian Wood\u201d, and I started running because I\u2019ve never heard anybody play like you except, in a way\u2026 me. Not exactly, of course, but\u2026\u201d She struggles to find the words. \u201cWith the same kind of knowing abandon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s exactly it,\u201d he says, amazed by her. \u201cKnowing abandon. Trusting the skill we\u2019ve developed from thousands of hours of playing and exploring and trusting that there are no wrong notes, just infinite new beginnings.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d she says, getting out her phone. \u201cI have to go now, but\u2026 can we trade numbers? In case I need to call you or you want to call me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t have a phone like that,\u201d he says, smiling helplessly at her. \u201cI just have the one on the wall in the kitchen. In our house. In California. Near Fortuna. Which is near Eureka. Oh, but I do have this.\u201d He gets out his wallet and extracts one of his business cards. \u201cThis has my phone number and post office box number.\u201d<\/p>\n

October \u201cTober\u201d Quincy<\/p>\n

Composer * Violinist * Carpenter * Gardener<\/p>\n

Fruit Tree Pruner * Collector of Special Stones<\/p>\n

Reasonable Rates * Inquiries Welcome<\/p>\n

She smiles at his card and says, \u201cI love this October \u2018Tober\u2019 Quincy. But what if I want to call you in an hour? Or tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh right,\u201d he says, slapping his forehead. \u201cAugie\u2019s got a local phone number and an answering machine. I\u2019ll give you that number and you give me yours, and I\u2019ll see you tonight at seven-thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOkay,\u201d she says, handing him a pale gray card, the print burgundy.<\/p>\n

Jasmy Beckman<\/p>\n

ORDERING CHAOS<\/p>\n

Violin and Vocals<\/p>\n

Studio Work & Special Events<\/p>\n

\u201cJasmy Beckman,\u201d says Tober, looking up from the card and losing himself in her beauty. \u201cI\u2019ll keep this forever.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u00a0fin<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

On the third day of their new life in the farmhouse at the end of Snake Creek Road, Amelia and Consuela wake in their bed to the sounds of Sharon and Tober talking quietly and moving about in the kitchen. \u201cTober is going away today,\u201d says Amelia, speaking softly in Spanish and pronouncing Tober Toe-Bare. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[5379,5397,3788,5358,5396,5378,5404,5402,5389,1182,5041,5177,5387,1512,5386,2337,19,5248,5321,5405,5407,84,5354,5406,2198,5391,5401,5394,77,5392,5399,49,5403,4419,714,5390,5395,5359,5175,881,5393,5357,5385,9,5400,33,5254,5398,5388],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2938"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2938"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2938\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2944,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2938\/revisions\/2944"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2938"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2938"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/underthetablebooks.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2938"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}