Grencia Mars Elijah Guo Eckener (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} jazzchagren) wrote,@ 2007-10-21 19:00:00 |
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The kindness of strangers
“That was lovely, young man.”
Gren turned around as he pulled the mouth piece out of the neck of his sax. One of the tourists, an elderly woman dressed entirely in pink and white checks, was standing behind him and smiling in that kind way that always made him ache a little. “Thank you,” he said. He wasn't sure what else to say. Most of the guests at the hotel just took his presence for granted.
“No, it's been a long time since I've heard someone play blues like that. Reminds me of my childhood.” Her voice shook slightly and he turned to face her. He didn't know what he planned to do if she became overly emotional, but sometimes just being in the vicinity helped.
“I can play something else, if you like.” And he could, he'd been practicing during his time in Margate, but the owners of the hotel wanted to maintain a more 'cultured' atmosphere, so he was told not to play anything too upbeat or new sounding. When he heard that he'd had to turn his head and cough away a small laugh. If only they knew how new his music really was.
She smiled and reached her hand into her bag, also pink. “Perhaps another time dear. Here, for you.” She pulled out a ₤10 note and held it out to him.
“Oh, no ma'am, I couldn't. I appreciate it, but just knowing that you liked it was enough.”
She waved it at him and smiled even wider. “Oh come now dear. Look how thin you are. And you need a haircut. It's the least I can do.”
Gren smiled and held out his hand. He couldn't argue with that. She placed the note in it and held onto his fingers for a moment before letting go. “Well, good luck young man.” She turned and hurried for the doorway to the lobby.
He stared down at it for a moment, then shoved it into his pocket. He hadn't ever been told he couldn't take tips, after all. Turning back to the stool his case was propped on he placed the body of the sax in it and then started to fiddle with the mouthpiece so he could remove the reed. He let his lips curve into a small grin, and hoped that she was appreciated and loved by someone, wished her happiness.
Closing the case he checked his watch. It was a little late to show up at the cafe for whatever social night was on, but perhaps some of the people he knew would soon be leaving. It felt like it had been ages since he'd been able to talk to someone who wasn't a guest at the hotel.
“That was lovely, young man.”
Gren turned around as he pulled the mouth piece out of the neck of his sax. One of the tourists, an elderly woman dressed entirely in pink and white checks, was standing behind him and smiling in that kind way that always made him ache a little. “Thank you,” he said. He wasn't sure what else to say. Most of the guests at the hotel just took his presence for granted.
“No, it's been a long time since I've heard someone play blues like that. Reminds me of my childhood.” Her voice shook slightly and he turned to face her. He didn't know what he planned to do if she became overly emotional, but sometimes just being in the vicinity helped.
“I can play something else, if you like.” And he could, he'd been practicing during his time in Margate, but the owners of the hotel wanted to maintain a more 'cultured' atmosphere, so he was told not to play anything too upbeat or new sounding. When he heard that he'd had to turn his head and cough away a small laugh. If only they knew how new his music really was.
She smiled and reached her hand into her bag, also pink. “Perhaps another time dear. Here, for you.” She pulled out a ₤10 note and held it out to him.
“Oh, no ma'am, I couldn't. I appreciate it, but just knowing that you liked it was enough.”
She waved it at him and smiled even wider. “Oh come now dear. Look how thin you are. And you need a haircut. It's the least I can do.”
Gren smiled and held out his hand. He couldn't argue with that. She placed the note in it and held onto his fingers for a moment before letting go. “Well, good luck young man.” She turned and hurried for the doorway to the lobby.
He stared down at it for a moment, then shoved it into his pocket. He hadn't ever been told he couldn't take tips, after all. Turning back to the stool his case was propped on he placed the body of the sax in it and then started to fiddle with the mouthpiece so he could remove the reed. He let his lips curve into a small grin, and hoped that she was appreciated and loved by someone, wished her happiness.
Closing the case he checked his watch. It was a little late to show up at the cafe for whatever social night was on, but perhaps some of the people he knew would soon be leaving. It felt like it had been ages since he'd been able to talk to someone who wasn't a guest at the hotel.