Band Cramp

The waiting room was white and somehow dingy. The hospital corridors were devoid of all colour beyond one red line which ran horizontally across the walls, like a dead heart monitor. Even the ward had been unnatural in its shade.

Gareth sat, keeping Nathan company, after a horrific night of desperate attempts to resuscitate Robert McCormack. It was clear, however, that the outcome had already been decided. Nathan wept in emotional turmoil. Gareth couldn't stand to see his best friend in such a state, and several attempts at humour had been lost on him.

They were lucky to be alive. Nathan had come out with a bruised leg, more than anything else, whilst Gareth's hand was his only casualty. Kara's nose was her only target. Yet, Bob faced the full blow thanks to making a fatal error - he didn't wear his seat belt.

'It snapped,' Nathan repeated through sniffling, 'as there's no way Bob wouldn't have worn it. It's not like him...'

With several pats of reassurance, Gareth sighed and sat back. His thoughts were on how Bob used to protect Nathan from Gareth, and how they'd always end up in mild fights. Now he was gone, Gareth felt like a lesser person from their mindless squabbling.

A blonde woman burst through the corridor doors and into the waiting room. She was thin and much older, possibly in her 40s, wearing a terracotta woollen jumper despite the summer heat. With her uncannily gaunt face, Gareth guessed it could only be the person he'd never met until now - Nathan and Bob's mother.

She glided to Nathan and ignored Gareth.

'Where is he?' she snapped.

'Gone, mum. He's gone,' Nathan simply responded.

'You...' she broke into tears, awkwardly, causing several waiting room occupants to look up in bemusement.

'They took him to the morgue. They need you to sign some paper work or something. Wasn't paying attention,' Nathan fumbled.

With a sniffle and a wipe of her eyes with a handkerchief, Nathan's mother composed herself.

'Your father will be most displeased, Nathan. You know what he's like.'

'Where is he?'

'At work. He said he needed to keep working. I'd like to think it's to take his mind away from this, but... well, you know him.'

She dabbed her eyes several more times until the dribbled mascara had been removed, completely. This gave Gareth the perfect time to be supportive.

'Bob's in a better place and we'll honour his memory, always.'

'Robert,' she assertively glared back, 'was a careful and calm individual. He protected his brother and the best place for him is right here.'

Gareth furrowed his brow, somewhat annoyed at this response, before letting it go - emotions were running high, after all.

'I'll have to love and leave you for now, Nathan. It looks like I've a lot of work to do, but... we'll try and discuss this as a family, this evening,' she assured, giving Nathan a quick hug.

Just as she strolled out of the doors, Warren barged in with Kerry-Anne.

Warren nodded at Gareth, who assertively nodded back. Meanwhile, Kerry-Anne sat next to Gareth.

'You've been through a lot, Gareth. I'm sorry if I've been hard on you,' she said in an unusually soothing voice.

'It's... okay?' Gareth shrugged, unsure of how to respond.

Despite his on-and-off relationship with his mother, Gareth relished these moments of calm and serenity, when she wasn't blaming him for something that really didn't matter. Gareth remembered the conversation that had occurred after Chase and Warren had left the house, when Darren had bruised his eye - he was blamed for wearing clothes which lacked "street cred" and called him a walking target. It was statements like that which Gareth thought unfair and unwelcoming, but Kerry-Anne was still his mother, so she was still there for him in a loose, sort-of way.

'They'll be all right. Death happens. We move on. Just don't go joy-riding again, or I'll lose you for good,' Kerry-Anne continued.

Gareth nodded, awkwardly. It wasn't as if they were joy-riding, but now wasn't the time to get into another argument with her.

'What do you wanna do now, Nath?' Gareth asked his friend.

'I...' Nathan paused. 'I want to head back to band. I want to take my mind off of this.'

'Let's do it, then,' Gareth nodded, grabbing Nathan's arm and holstering him up.

'You're sure about this?' Warren interjected at that moment.

'Yeah.'

'I'd best drive you back to camp, then. But, er... my car only has one passenger seat, so I'll have to make multiple journeys. Camp grounds aren't too far, so you won't have long to wait,' Warren sighed. 'Best take an energy drink or two to make it through the day,' Warren sighed.

At least they'd be safe within the confines of Warren's smart car. After the crash, Gareth had felt unsavoury and unsafe riding in the ambulance to the hospital. It would be nice to be in a small car, instead.

'I don't know why you're bothering with band, but keep safe,' Kerry-Anne said, disappointed.

Gareth nodded, jamming his hand into his pocket and stroking the familiar medallion which held him together. I'm doing this for you... and for dad, Gareth thought in response.

'Mind if you stay here with the kid, for a bit?' Warren asked Kerry-Anne, who nodded in response. Gareth watched as his mother awkwardly put her arm around Nathan, feeling she wasn't the best person for reassurance.

With a gentle push, Gareth turned to head to camp in the Warren-mobile.

********************

'Last night, I lost a dear friend and brother. He was the best. Give him a drum stick, he'd pepper the room all day with drumming. Give him a bottle of cola, he'd do that same thing. He always drummed. He wouldn't stop. He also suffered from a condition that made him snap with aggression and pain. Now he's literally snapped. Now he's gone. So what I want to do is remember him in the best way possible - he loved Adonis, so let me march the remainder of this year in his memory,' Nathan announced to the field of Adonis members.

Everyone had their heads lowered as they stood around Nathan, on top of Chase's black box.
'Thank you, Mr. Nathan McCormack. In memory of Mr. Robert McCormack, let us all lower our heads and undertake a minute of silence,' Chase commanded, solemnly.

Everyone did so in perhaps the most excruciatingly long minute Gareth had ever encountered. At first, he thought about Bob's arrogance and protective nature, but then his thoughts turned to Nathan and how he must be feeling. He recalled his old cocker spaniel, who was getting on in years when he was a young child. He loved that dog. They would often play in the garden, back when the garden was usable, and they'd take it in turns to chase one another. Gareth would often lose on his tricycle, but he didn't care. When Maevis died, he was distraught. It was like someone had removed a great chunk of his childhood. He'd mourned for several weeks before he was back to his usual self. Bob wasn't a dog, however. Nathan must be going through something far worse.

At last, the minute was up.

'As we now endure an empty marching spot, I have made an executive decision, based on the bickering I've endured these past few weeks. Thus, I bestow Mr. Robert McCormack's drum spot to Elisa,' Chase explained.

'What?!' Elisa spluttered.

'You cannot play a percussion instrument, but I assure you that you're the best on the glock. Mandy and I have discussed the use of a contraption which can lock the glock top to your wheelchair. You will be able to march the glock.'

Elisa's face lit up in response, which in turn caused Nathan to smile for the first time since the accident.

'Hang on, mate, that's not fair!' Lofty called out. Chase turned to face him with a "yeah, so what?" look upon his face. 'I've been wanting to march all year and you've given Elisa a bloody marching spot!'

'I've been wanting to march all my life, Lofty, so back down,' Elisa retorted.

'But I'm a quick learner! I even know Bob's marching dots already!'

'You should've been watching the drum major, not the field,' Chase's brow furrowed.

'Besides, a car crash caused this to me. I lost the use of my legs. It only makes sense I take Bob's spot,' Elisa continued.

'A little sensitivity, Lofty,' Chase nudged the stout loud-mouth, before continuing, 'but as I suppose you have pushed your flabby body harder than ever before, you can have Elisa's spot.'

'Eh? But that's pointless, I'd be doing the same-'

'Another word and you lap it.'

Lofty clamped his mouth shut.

'Hang on,' Elisa reconvened, 'I won't be able to play the glock and march at the same time. I need both hands to wheel myself.' She paused for a moment, as if not wishing to suggest she needed help on the field. 'What if Lofty pushed my wheelchair?'

There was a brief bout of silence.

'Out of the question,' Chase snorted.

'Why not?' Elisa pursued.

'Your eagle eyes may have noticed Lofty has a tendency to topple over, even when standing still. He will cause you more harm than good, out there.'

'I can handle it,' Lofty piped up, this time not fearing a vengeful retort for speaking out of turn, 'and so can my beefy legs.'

Mandy whispered something in Chase's ear as he deliberated. He gave her a spiteful look as she smiled back, almost maliciously.

'Fine. You've lapped the field so many times that your legs resemble an elephant's on steroids. You get to push Elisa,' Chase scowled.

'Thank you! This means so much to-' Lofty started, but decided to remain silent from Chase's murderous stare.

'Continuing with the camp at hand, we will submerge our bodies in the swimming pool, learning to breath anew. Percussion, prepare to submerge your sticks. Pit, colourguard, prepare... to practise on your own for a while,' Chase commanded.

And so, after a bizarre experience of breathing whilst rotating their bodies in a swimming pool, all whilst the percussion played underwater, Gareth felt that the Sunday was a cathartic and positive release after the horrors from the previous evening.

After loading the dreaded truck with the band equipment, Warren turned up and took Gareth home in an unsettling silence, for the most part.

'We have a parade next weekend,' Gareth muttered.

'Hm?' Warren responded.

'We've got to learn some rubbish carnival tunes and march in a block down the road,' Gareth humped, thinking of all the tunes Adonis would play as they marched down his street. He bitterly despised them.

'Oh yes, the town carnival! That's crept up on us, fast. Adonis usually lead the floats through the streets.'

'Floats?'

'You know, the lorries and things,' explained Warren.

Whatever the case may be, the carnival parade was going to be interesting.