Jude's Music

Nineteen

My mother was watching me much closer than before. She dropped me off at school and started picking me up so that I wouldn't have to walk home. In the afternoons, she made sure I stayed in the house. After nearly a week of her eagle-eyed behavior, I felt myself beginning to go crazy. I also knew that Jude was starting to feel restless about his promise to Mr. Black. So the only thing I could think of to do was tell my mother that I was joining the school choir, which practiced on Mondays and Fridays for an hour after school. It was a blatant lie, and I felt awful telling it to her. I would've felt worse, though, if I hadn't been able to help Jude. My mother fell for the plot and began to pick me up from school an hour later on Mondays and Fridays. That gave me and Jude time to go to Mr. Black's. As long as I was standing on the steps of the school when my mother drove up to them, she would never know the difference.

Jude and I worked out a way that would make it easier for him to approach Mr. Black's house. First, I had to explain to the old man that my friend had a problem. Rather than go into details about how Jude felt others' sadness to the point where it was crippling, I just said that he was sick and unable to walk far distances. Although I knew Mr. Black didn't like the sound of that, he agreed to meet us each Monday and Friday at three o'clock, right where the green pines gave way to the bare trees on his own property. Then, he would help Jude the rest of the way into his house. He would seat Jude at the piano, and Mr. Black and I would sit as close as we dared and just listen.

Once, when we first began our routine, we were at Mr. Black's house almost over the allotted hour. Fortunately, my mother didn't suspect anything when I reached her a couple of minutes late, but I knew that I couldn't let it happen again. If she ever went into the school to look for me, she'd find that I wasn't in the choir at all. That would cause some real problems. So, to avoid that, I asked Mr. Black to set a timer that would go off after thirty minutes. That worked fine, because unlike the first time he'd played for Mr. Black, Jude didn't ever go longer than twenty minutes when we were there after school.

Through the month of November, Jude and I continued to make trips to Mr. Black's house twice a week. The Thanksgiving holiday came and went, and I couldn't think of anything at all to be thankful for. The first days of December arrived. The weather got colder and grayer, if that was possible. When Jude and I went to see Mr. Black, it took us quite a while just to peel off our coats, hats, scarves, and gloves. Our time to listen to Jude play was nearly cut in half, but that didn't matter, because he didn't seem to have to play quite so desperately. I saw it happening – slowly, but surely. Each day he played for Mr. Black, Jude's music became shorter and slightly less bitter. And in what seemed like no time at all, I was suddenly able to listen to him more attentively. I didn't sink into such deep recesses of grief as I had formerly. I felt shivers of sadness and pulls of emptiness, but they were far less intense. Jude was getting better – I was sure of it – and as a result, his music was turning bittersweet.

In mid-December, I found something that completely reawakened my questions concerning the accident in Moss Lake. Since I had accomplished the goal of getting Jude into Mr. Black's house, I'd forgotten about my attempt to figure out why the old man was so grouchy in the first place.

"It's very cold out today," said Mr. Black as he helped Jude up the front steps of his porch. It was Monday afternoon. Something else had been happening to Jude, and it made me feel totally sure that he was getting better. He was able to go near Mr. Black's house much more easy. In fact, he could get all the way to the front porch before he even needed help, and even then, he didn't black out or go into the kind of state that used to scare me so bad. Jude just got kind of weak when he arrived at the house, but once Mr. Black was there to help him walk inside, he did just fine.

"I had Martin bring me a box of that Swiss brand hot chocolate. There are five different flavors." Mr. Black was also beginning to show more kindness toward us – even me. "I prefer the hazelnut. I haven't tried the mint yet, but I made some up for you. You can tell me if it's any good." He liked Jude better than he liked me, but I was all right with that. Jude was the one with the talent.