{"id":1008,"date":"2016-07-26T02:03:59","date_gmt":"2016-07-26T02:03:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/staging\/?p=1008"},"modified":"2026-03-14T19:09:51","modified_gmt":"2026-03-14T19:09:51","slug":"rudy-kremberg","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/rudy-kremberg\/","title":{"rendered":"Rudy Kremberg"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

Golden Ears <\/h3>\n

Jonah stared at the leather recliner and imagined she was still sitting there, listening to the Urlicht movement of Mahler\u2019s Resurrection Symphony, her eyes closed, a shock of reddish brown hair tucked behind each ear. He pictured himself running his fingers along the curved outlines of those perfectly shaped ears, and as the sad music played in his head he felt his heartbreak and desire flaring up again. And remembered his promise.<\/p>\n

He snapped out of it. The chair was empty, of course. She was long gone.<\/p>\n

His car keys and house key were on the top shelf of the equipment rack, beside the envelope on which he\u2019d scribbled her hospital room number\u2014by now he\u2019d memorized it. He took the keys, then hesitated, still not sure if he should stay home and forget the promise, forget her. If keeping his word would be a mistake. Hadn\u2019t he made enough mistakes already?<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThey\u2019d met at work. Her name was Crystal, and for most of that spring she\u2019d been delivering the mail while he\u2019d been sorting it\u2014they were scheduled to switch in the summer. He\u2019d found her friendly and achingly pretty, had figured she was out of his league even before he\u2019d heard she had a boyfriend. All of which had only fueled his fantasies. And was there anybody in their department, male or female\u2014Toni was openly lesbian\u2014who hadn\u2019t fantasized about her?<\/p>\n

But it wasn\u2019t until she\u2019d asked him about his \u201cfancy equipment\u201d that their relationship changed from a strictly working one to something else entirely.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe sound must be awesome,\u201d she\u2019d said in the dead of a Friday afternoon, after she\u2019d come back from her last run. Their supervisor had gone home early, and Toni was finishing the week\u2019s cataloguing behind the partition on the far side of the mail room. As long as they kept their voices down, they\u2019d be out of earshot.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess Toni talked to you,\u201d Jonah said, caught off guard by the compliment.<\/p>\n

The other day Toni had found him leafing through the copy of Hi Fi Review he\u2019d borrowed from the pile of magazines waiting to be catalogued. She\u2019d asked him if he was an audiophile, and he\u2019d told her he\u2019d just bought the CD player shown on the cover\u2014\u201cThe Digital Age Dawns with a Bang,\u201d the tagline had read.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo what kind of music do you like?\u201d Crystal asked.
\n\u201cClassical,\u201d he told her.
\n\u201cYou mean Beethoven and symphonies and stuff like that?\u201d<\/p>\n

She was looking at him intently. It was intoxicating.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d he said. \u201cThe romantic period, starting with late Beethoven. Not so much the earlier composers.\u201d
\n\u201cUh-huh,\u201d she responded. Then she smiled.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nOn Monday she came to work with dark semicircles under her eyes\u2014one of them might have overlapped a bruise, but Jonah couldn\u2019t be sure. He\u2019d assumed she was about his age, in her mid twenties. That morning, though, she looked ten years older.<\/p>\n

During the break after her first delivery run she noticed him looking at her and smiled again. It was a weak, rather forced smile, but her shiny red lipstick made it stand out. When the refreshment truck arrived he offered to pick up her coffee.<\/p>\n

\u201cDouble cream and triple sugar,\u201d she said, giving him the money.<\/p>\n

Her hand was trembling when she took the coffee from him five minutes later. If not for the plastic lid, she would have spilled it on her jeans.<\/p>\n

\u201cAre you all right?\u201d he asked.
\n\u201cSo you like romantic music,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cI like Rachmaninov and Mahler the best,\u201d he told her. \u201cDo you like that kind of music, too?\u201d
\n\u201cI don\u2019t know anything about it.\u201d
\n\u201cYou probably heard it already. Like in movies.\u201d
\n\u201cWhich movies?\u201d
\n\u201cBrief Encounter, Death in Venice. Lots of others.\u201d
\n\u201cNever heard of those,\u201d she said. \u201cWhat\u2019s your favourite record?\u201d
\n\u201cMy all-time favourite? I guess it would have to be Mahler\u2019s Resurrection Symphony. Georg Solti conducting the London Symphony Orchestra.\u201d
\n\u201cResurrection. Sounds religious.\u201d
\n\u201cTo me it\u2019s\u2026inspiring, especially the last movement.\u201d<\/p>\n

He watched for her reaction, concerned he was coming across as pedantic, that he was blowing it, but she seemed to be waiting for him to elaborate.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt almost makes me believe we can actually rise up from the dead and that the trouble we put up with in life is worth it, because we\u2019ll get rewarded in heaven in the end.\u201d
\n\u201cIf we\u2019re good.\u201d
\n\u201cRight. Only if we\u2019re good.\u201d
\n\u201cMaybe you could play the record for me,\u201d she said. \u201cOn your system, I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n

At first Jonah couldn\u2019t believe his ears.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d like that,\u201d he answered. \u201cI\u2019d like it very much, but\u2026.\u201d
\n\u201cYou\u2019re wondering about my boyfriend?\u201d<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t say anything.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about him. I\u2019m not seeing him anymore.\u201d<\/p>\n

The dark bruise-like spot under her eye distracted Jonah. He wanted to question her about it, but the feeling that this would be too intrusive, that it would somehow jinx the inroads he was making, held him back.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen?\u201d he asked, struggling not to sound too eager.<\/p>\n

She suggested the following Friday, and that was how their first date came to be.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nHe would have taken his car, a secondhand Datsun his father had gotten him for his eighteenth birthday, but the transmission was acting up and he had to wait until next payday to get it fixed. She didn\u2019t seem put off, though.<\/p>\n

After work they walked to a nearby Chinese restaurant. Over pork dumplings and egg drop soup he told her he was an only child, that his parents had infected him with their love of classical music when he was a kid, treating him to Toronto Symphony Orchestra concerts at Massey Hall and the Nutcracker ballet at the O\u2019Keefe Centre. They\u2019d died in a traffic accident a year and a half ago, he went on, and their house had passed to him. So had a little money, enough to cover his hi-fi expenses if he stuck to a stringent budget. He confided he\u2019d had a girlfriend, stressed that he\u2019d cut all ties with her after he\u2019d caught her cheating on him. Crystal in turn talked about her dream of becoming an actress, how she\u2019d worked as an extra in movies and TV shows and hoped to find an agent. Her parents had moved to Vancouver in \u201978, and she\u2019d been with her last boyfriend since then. He was an unemployed musician in the process of starting up a band, or trying to. He was also the one who\u2019d first told her she ought to be in show business.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe got tired of waiting for me to make it big,\u201d she said. \u201cI told him it was going to take time. I told him I wanted to learn about acting and save up for lessons. But he said what for, you\u2019re already learning for free because you\u2019re acting every day, it\u2019s part of life. He said we had better things to do with the money.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t help you at all?\u201d
\n\u201cDidn\u2019t lift a finger. And that\u2019s just one of our problems. Was one of our problems.\u201d
\n\u201cDon\u2019t be discouraged,\u201d Jonah said, feeling a powerful urge to kiss those too-red lips. \u201cI bet you\u2019ve got what it takes.\u201d<\/p>\n

She broke into another smile, bashful but radiant.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s so sweet of you,\u201d she said.
\n\"\"
\nThey took the subway from the restaurant to his place. After he\u2019d gotten used to being alone in the house he\u2019d rearranged the living room to accommodate a new stereo system, relegating his parents\u2019 old system to his bedroom. The living room had excellent acoustics, and the top-of-the-line gear he\u2019d splurged on demanded nothing less. The CD player, his latest acquisition, had cost close to a grand. The other components had set him back even more.<\/p>\n

She settled into the recliner in the prime listening position, equidistant from the two floor-standing speakers. He brought her a glass of the Chardonnay he\u2019d picked out for the occasion, poured some for himself, then watched her as she took in the array of knobs and dials on the equipment rack.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo where\u2019s this cool thing you just bought?\u201d<\/p>\n

He pointed at the CD player. \u201cIt\u2019s the first model to come out. They say it\u2019ll revolutionize hi-fi.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks impressive.\u201d She gazed at the power amplifier, preamplifier, tuner and turntable. \u201cAll this stuff must\u2019ve cost a fortune. At least a few hundred, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

Jonah told her how much, and her eyebrows shot up.<\/p>\n

\u201cI guess you\u2019ve got a good security system,\u201d she said.
\n\u201cI\u2019m shopping around for one.\u201d He stepped over to a shelf laden with vinyl records, pulled out a boxed set and removed a disc. \u201cI want you to hear this first. It\u2019s the classical piece I was telling you about. It\u2019s not out on CD yet.\u201d<\/p>\n

He opened the acrylic lid of the turntable and placed the record on the platter, tightening it down with the clamp that attached to the spindle. He carefully cleaned the stylus with a tiny brush dipped in a special solution, pressed a button to rotate the record at thirty-three revolutions per minute and passed an anti-static brush over the surface. Ever so gently, he then lifted the tonearm from its cradle. After nudging it into alignment, he flicked a lever to lower it onto the first track.<\/p>\n

\u201cGustav Mahler\u2019s Second Symphony,\u201d he announced. \u201cAlso known as the Resurrection Symphony.\u201d<\/p>\n

He sat down just as the bass strings of the London Symphony Orchestra growled out the opening notes. She started, and he got up to adjust the volume. When the violins joined in he was struck by a harshness in the upper midrange. He tolerated it for a minute or so before stopping the record.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe speaker cables are still new, too,\u201d he explained. \u201cThey need another fifty hours to break in. That\u2019s why the violins sound rough.\u201d
\n\u201cThey sound pretty good to me.\u201d
\n\u201cThey should sound sweeter, more open. The imaging should be more precise.\u201d
\n\u201cYou must have golden ears,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n

He put on the second disc of the two-record set and played the fourth movement\u2014the Urlicht or \u201cPrimeval Light,\u201d as it was titled. The most important thing here wasn\u2019t the orchestra\u2019s string section but Helen Watts\u2019 angelic voice.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s so sad,\u201d Crystal commented on the singing. \u201cWhat language is that?\u201d<\/p>\n

He told her it was German and translated: Man lies in greatest need. Man lies in greatest pain. I would much rather be in heaven. He paused, admiring her beauty as she listened with her eyes closed. I belong to God and to God I want to return, he finished after the melody changed key. Dear God will give me a light. Will light my way to eternal bliss.<\/p>\n

\u201cI like the last part,\u201d she said when the song had ended. \u201cDo you have any rock?\u201d<\/p>\n

He played his new Billy Joel CD, the 52nd Street album. She loosened up, swaying to the rhythm of \u201cBig Shot.\u201d He was still painfully aware of the harshness in the upper midrange\u2014it was even worse than it had been on the Mahler record. Regardless, he couldn\u2019t take his eyes off her, couldn\u2019t ignore the desire raging inside him. When \u201cHonesty\u201d started he got out of his chair, bent down beside her and kissed her on the mouth.<\/p>\n

They moved to the couch and made out. As \u201cHonesty\u201d gave way to \u201cMy Life\u201d she let him unbutton her blouse, and for a while he was oblivious of his surroundings, of the flawed sound coming from the speakers. He thought he heard her murmur his name at one point, but when his hand strayed to her panties she resisted.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot yet,\u201d she said softly. \u201cI need\u2026just give me time.\u201d<\/p>\n

He ran his fingers through her hair, trying to act as if he wasn\u2019t taken aback.<\/p>\n

\u201cI really like you,\u201d he half whispered. \u201cI\u2019ve always liked you.\u201d
\n\u201cI like you, too.\u201d<\/p>\n

They kissed some more, listened to the rest of the album. Later he walked her back to the subway.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s get together again soon,\u201d she suggested.<\/p>\n

He was going to invite her to the Toronto Symphony Orchestra\u2019s upcoming concert, but she preempted him.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you want to see me in a movie?\u201d<\/p>\n

Of course he did, he was quick to reply.<\/p>\n

So they made a date to see Class of 1984 together, a drama about a high-school music teacher\u2019s clash with a gang of delinquents. It had been filmed in the city and was opening in theatres next weekend. She was an extra in it, she told him proudly.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nHe got his transmission fixed, and around half past seven on Saturday he picked her up at her apartment. An hour later they were sitting side by side in the crowded theatre, watching the movie.<\/p>\n

She appeared in only one scene. The setting was a downtown street at night, where the delinquents had just piled out of a club and the music teacher\u2019s inebriated colleague was trying to run them over in his car. Crystal was an anonymous passerby in the background. She was on-screen for maybe three seconds.<\/p>\n

Afterwards he took her to an upscale Italian restaurant. She talked about being an extra and complained it was hard to make a living as an actress, that her parents had discouraged her from even trying. His tongue loosened by wine, he told her how close he\u2019d been to his own parents, how music like the Resurrection Symphony had given him solace since he\u2019d lost them\u2014while part of him doubted that people survived death and went to heaven, another part liked to believe that such a place existed and his parents deserved to be there. He caught himself getting emotional and switched the subject back to Crystal\u2019s family. She, too, was an only child, but she\u2019d had a falling out with her mom and dad and wasn\u2019t in contact with them anymore.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happened?\u201d he probed, then saw how she looked away. \u201cYou don\u2019t have to tell me if you don\u2019t want to.\u201d
\n\u201cWe were arguing all the time,\u201d she said. \u201cThey didn\u2019t like some of my friends. They\u2026stopped talking to me. We\u2019re still not talking.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jonah was itching to ask why her parents didn\u2019t like those friends and if her boyfriend had been one of them, but he sensed he\u2019d touched a sore spot, that it would be better not to press her on the subject.<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope you can work things out,\u201d he said. \u201cThey have to talk with you sooner or later. They\u2019re your parents, after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

Crystal shrugged. \u201cWhat I don\u2019t get is they used to tell me it\u2019s good to forgive, it\u2019s the Christian thing to do. To err is human, to forgive divine. You know the old saying. They drilled that into me and didn\u2019t practice what they preached.\u201d<\/p>\n

With a twinge of guilt he thought of his ex-girlfriend, the one he\u2019d caught cheating. She\u2019d made a tearful show of remorse, had practically begged him to give their relationship another chance, but he\u2019d dumped her anyway\u2014his anger and distrust had proved insurmountable.<\/p>\n

Crystal was quiet as he drove her home. Something else seemed to be weighing on her, eating away at her. All the same, when they got back to her apartment she invited him inside. She had a simple, basic stereo system in her living room. After a few beers and a joint, with Cat Stevens playing on the turntable, they made out again, and again she stopped short of going all the way, telling him she still needed just a little more time. She sounded reluctant, torn between waiting and letting herself go.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs something bothering you?\u201d he asked her.
\n\u201cI\u2019m okay,\u201d she insisted.
\n\u201cI\u2019m not\u2026getting in the way or anything, am I?\u201d
\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d
\n\u201cYou said you broke up with your boyfriend. I was just wondering if\u2014\u201d
\n\u201cWe\u2019re still seeing each other?\u201d<\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s over,\u201d she said, and took his hand in hers. \u201cIt\u2019s been over for a long time, but he didn\u2019t want to admit it. Even though we kept fighting. The only way to break up was to go cold turkey. So I told him to move out of here.\u201d
\n\u201cI didn\u2019t know he was living with you. Did he give you any trouble?\u201d
\n\u201cI told him if he moved I wouldn\u2019t blame him for anything. I said I\u2019d always be his friend. That made it easier for him. He\u2019s gone now, thank God.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jonah looked her in the eye. Was she acting? He could have sworn she was genuinely relieved her boyfriend had left.<\/p>\n

\u201cI want us to be together,\u201d he said, holding on to her hand. The rapturous middle movement of Rachmaninov\u2019s third piano concerto began playing in his head, Earl Wild at the keyboard and Jascha Horenstein conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra. \u201cI really do like you a lot. I can\u2019t help it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut you hardly know me.\u201d
\n\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter. I think I\u2019d like you no matter what.\u201d<\/p>\n

Was that a flicker of surprise in her expression? Surprise and scepticism?<\/p>\n

\u201cI know I would,\u201d Jonah declared. Earl Wild and the Royal Philharmonic were urging him along.
\n\u201cReally? Even if I did something\u2026you didn\u2019t like?\u201d
\n\u201cEven then. I\u2019d forgive you.\u201d
\n\u201cIs that a promise?\u201d
\n\u201cWhat a question,\u201d he said. \u201cAre you planning to do something I won\u2019t like?\u201d
\n\u201cI\u2019m not doing anything,\u201d She was on her fourth beer, her eyes sleepy, her lips beckoning him. \u201cI\u2019m staying right here with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Unable to control himself any longer, he pulled her towards him. \u201cIt\u2019s a promise.\u201d<\/p>\n

He kissed her again, more aggressively. He smelled the alcohol on her breath as she kissed him back, felt the buzz from what he\u2019d drunk and smoked. Before he could think too much about what they\u2019d said to each other, he stumbled onto the floor with her, and this time, clumsily but passionately, they did go all the way.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\n
\nPulling up in his driveway at two in the morning, he noticed that the gate to the backyard was open. He latched it shut, then went around to the veranda and unlocked the front door. As he stepped inside, he felt his heart sink.<\/p>\n

Where the new CD player had been, there was now empty shelf space. Someone had broken in. He surveyed the living room in a daze. All of the other equipment had been stolen, too. Even the Billy Joel CD was gone. Whoever it was had entered through the back porch, smashing the window and leaving the floor littered with glass shards. The gear must have been carted out the porch door, which was ajar, and loaded into a truck or van waiting in the driveway. He called the police, then his insurance company. His policy covered him. Still, he was devastated.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nTwo police officers came by that Sunday. They took pictures and notes, asked him if he had any idea who the thief or thieves might be. He didn\u2019t. They told him there wasn\u2019t much they could do and promised to be in touch if there were any developments. One of them gave him a card. He called Crystal four or five times before the afternoon was out. He tried again in the evening and late at night. Nobody picked up, no answering machine kicked in.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nShe didn\u2019t answer her phone on Monday, either, and didn\u2019t show up at work. Toni said she\u2019d called in sick and that her boyfriend had called, asking if she was there. He\u2019d sounded upset.<\/p>\n

\u201cI thought they broke up,\u201d Jonah said.
\n\u201cI did, too,\u201d Toni said. \u201cShe\u2019s been staying with me. She needed to get away from him. Give herself space so she can decide what she really wants to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

He looked at Toni in surprise. \u201cShe\u2019s at your place now?\u201d<\/p>\n

Toni shook her head. \u201cShe was going to head home today. She might be there already. I hope she\u2019s okay.\u201d
\n\u201cSo do I,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n

He wondered what was going on between Toni and Crystal, how close they were, then told himself to stop imagining things, that for all he knew Toni was only being a supportive friend.<\/p>\n

But he couldn\u2019t help feeling a pang of envy.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nAs soon as he got off work he drove to Crystal\u2019s apartment. A rusty, battered van with a guitar painted on its side occupied the parking space he\u2019d used over the weekend. He parked in the adjacent slot. Walking past the van, he spotted her sunglasses on the dashboard in front of the passenger seat. So she had company. Was it her boyfriend? Were they staying together? The feeling she\u2019d been putting on an act came over him. He pressed his face against the van\u2019s heavily tinted rear window, couldn\u2019t see beyond a couple of discarded beer cans.<\/p>\n

Rather than buzz her in the lobby, he followed the footpath to the back of the building. Her unit was on the ground floor, the curtained living-room window overlooking the path. Approaching the glass, he heard muffled noises. There was a slight gap between the curtains. He peeked through it.<\/p>\n

Crystal and a twentysomething guy with shoulder-length hair and tattoos on his arms were standing in the middle of the room, talking animatedly. Jonah couldn\u2019t make out what they were saying, only that they were agitated. On the cluttered coffee table was a small plastic case partially obscured by a heap of white powder, next to what looked like a razor blade and a curled-up paper bill. The case, he realized, was a CD container. He could see just enough of the cover to recognize Billy Joel\u2019s 52nd Street album. And in the cabinet behind the table, its fluorescent display panel illuminated, was a familiar-looking CD player.<\/p>\n

He drove back to his place, narrowly averting a collision after he missed a stop sign. By the time he found the card one of the police officers had given him, the initial shock had faded and rage was setting in. His promise was the furthest thing from his mind when he called the number printed on the card.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nIt took another day for the authorities to confirm that Crystal\u2019s boyfriend had stolen the gear and sold it to buy cocaine\u2014except for the CD player, which he\u2019d decided to keep. And yes, the movie date with Crystal had been part of the plan. A way of making sure Jonah wouldn\u2019t be home to interfere with the robbery.<\/p>\n

This information had come not from the boyfriend, who was now in custody, but from Crystal herself. She was in Toronto General, recovering from a concussion and lacerations to her face. According to the cop Jonah spoke with, she was claiming that she\u2019d tried to talk her boyfriend out of the robbery, that they\u2019d gotten into a heated argument after he\u2019d gone through with it. And then he\u2019d hit her. Were they still together? The officer couldn\u2019t or wouldn\u2019t say. He did point out that abusive relationships could be addictive.<\/p>\n

\u201cSometimes the victims find it impossible to break free,\u201d he told Jonah. \u201cSometimes the emotional bond with the abuser is too strong. Crystal never gave you any indication she was stuck in that situation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe\u2019s a good actress,\u201d Jonah said.<\/p>\n

He didn\u2019t think to ask if she\u2019d be charged as an accessory, or if he could get the charge waived. Not right away.<\/p>\n

Instead he brooded over how she\u2019d betrayed him, how her once pretty face must look now. Had she really been opposed to the robbery? Had that triggered her boyfriend\u2019s violence, or had jealousy set him off? Jonah desperately wanted her story to be true but couldn\u2019t let go of his anger, couldn\u2019t trust her any more than he\u2019d trusted his cheating ex.<\/p>\n

He debated whether it was too late to keep his promise.<\/p>\n

\"\"
\nThe keys were still in his hand, his mind still not made up. Maybe a little music would calm him down, help him see things clearly.<\/p>\n

He put the keys back on the rack, powered up the aging stereo receiver he\u2019d inherited from his parents and kept in his bedroom, connected to a turntable and bookshelf speakers of the same vintage\u2014the system was what might euphemistically be called forgiving, a far cry from the high-resolution rig that had replaced it in the living room. He plunked the first disc of the Resurrection Symphony onto the automatic turntable\u2019s platter, pressed the button to play the opening movement, and collapsed on the bed.<\/p>\n

The stormy bass strings startled him, just as they\u2019d startled Crystal. No, this wasn\u2019t what he wanted. He switched discs, and when the tonearm was in position over the Urlicht track he lay down again and closed his eyes. Listening to Helen Watts lamenting mankind\u2019s need and pain, he felt the sorrow and desolation in her voice, and as she sang of a light showing her the way to heaven he found himself wondering if he would ever see such a light\u2026had his parents seen it? That led him to think of Crystal and her estranged parents, and during the brief silence between the end of the track and the beginning of the symphony\u2019s final movement he vaguely remembered a conversation he\u2019d had with her, something involving her friends and a hackneyed old saying.<\/p>\n

A fresh outburst of stormy bass filled the room, followed by a clash of cymbals and an explosion of brass and shrieking strings. The Resurrection and Last Judgment were at hand. He opened his eyes, squinting at the light in the ceiling fixture, and for a crazy moment he was convinced it was the light that was going to guide him to heaven. The next moment he was on his feet.<\/p>\n

He turned the equipment off, didn\u2019t bother putting the record away. The keys were where he\u2019d left them, beside the envelope with Crystal\u2019s room number. He grabbed them, hurried out of the house and locked the door. Even before he knew which route he would take to the hospital, he was starting his car, anxious to get moving.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Away From Shore<\/strong>
\nHolding Dee\u2019s left hand within his, John leaned forward close to her face to brush her wayward hair from her eyes with his right hand. The white room was cool and quiet, except for the medical equipment, and the lights were dimmed to avoid hurting her eyes. The curtains drawn against the warm summer night and the door to the room closed to the distractions of rushed movements and sounds, the space they occupied felt like a failing safe harbor.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":5291,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1008","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1008","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1008"}],"version-history":[{"count":32,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1008\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5428,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1008\/revisions\/5428"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5291"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1008"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1008"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue28\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1008"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}