The Santa Society - Chapter 1: The Prodigal Son

It was 7:30 Eastern Time when Miriam called Isaac. However, in Seattle it was only 4:30, which meant that the final Jazz Orchestra practice of the Puget Sound Jazz Observatory was just about to come to a close, before breaking for Thanksgiving.

Rhythms floated around and past each other, dancing and skittering, jumping up and down, and then somehow seemingly sideways. Some sections were featured at different points of the song well the other sections provided rhythm and a stable backbone on which the other parts floated along, while the percussion played five finger fillet with the melody,  threatening to slice it open as it danced just out of reach.

The guitar, a green Gibson hollow body, with the most smooth and natural sound that anyone has ever heard, was about to embark on a soulful journey when suddenly a peice of chalk flew through the air and clanged off the bell of the alto sax, bouncing off at crazy, nearly impossible angle where it hit the bell of the tuba , before spiraling into the spit filled depths.

The music ground to a halt and the tuba player groaned and set his tuba on the floor resignedly, sighing, "Not again..."

The alto sax player's eyes were wide, and trying to look anywhere except for the front of the room where there stood 31 year old bubbling furnace of rage,  which was currently staring her down like a drill sergeant who had just been called "Mom."

When nothing seemed forthcoming, the guitar player slowly raised his hand and said tentatively,  "Uh...  Mister Weber? Uh..  Wh -" 

"Alex," Mr Weber snapped suddenly. "What mode were we just playing in?" 

Alex checked his sheets.  "Lydian mode sir." 

"And what happens if you play a major mode with a flat and 7th? Class?" 

"Myxolydian mode sir."

"And does mixolydian mode sound good in the composition that we were playing a moment ago?"

"No s-"

"WRONG! It sounds freaking fantastic when you want to inject a little bit of melancholy and a bittersweetness into a composition. It's  heartbreak for people don't have time for heartbreak but need to have the feeling anyway. It is an amazing MODE... when done with intent." 

He paused moment to catch his breath and to let them catch theirs.

"BUT WE ARE IN THE FREAKING LYDIAN MODE UNTIL I SAY OTHERWISE!"

Everyone jumped in their seats as Mr Weber raised his baton again,  speaking in a loud schoolteachers voice, "Okay then, from the beginning-"  groans filled the practice room.  "One and two an-"

His mobile phone rang. Everyone gasped.  Mr Weber's No-Phone policy was the stuff of legend, and sometimes nightmare.

But Isaac knew there were only two numbers he allowed to reach him at any time,  and both knew better to call him this early in the afternoon... Unless...

"Alright we're done for the day. Get going. Shannon GET that scale mode DOWN, or so help me... " He let the threat hang, but curled his hand into a claw and shook the back of it at her menacingly.

She looked frightened, but eager at the same time. "Yes Mr Weber."

"Thank you!" He said with overstated relief in his voice.

He grabbed the still ringing phone and ducked behind a section of mobile sound baffling.  He picked it up just before it went to voice mail.

"Mom?" He didn't mean for his voice to come out hard and harsh, but his emotions always ran a little high right after rehearsal.

But she didn't seem to notice. "Isaac," she began. She sounded like she was going to berate him for a moment, but she was always better at shifting gears than he was.

Then just before she spoke again she gave a great sniff if her nose, and Isaac realized from years of experience that his mother had been crying. 

His mind jumped ahead several steps. "Grandma... she's not d-" He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought, but his mother cut him off.

"No she's-" He had the impression she was trying not to say the words "not dead" as much as he was trying not to think those words. "She's just had... an episode. The doctors used the term CVE or CVA, but I don't-"

"A cerebrovascular event, or accident," said Isaak, who realized he watched WAY to many hospital dramas, but was thanking House MD at the moment. "Grandma had a stroke?"

"Is that what that means?" said his mother distractedly. "I had thought so, the way she seemed when I brought her into the hospital... she couldn't speak without slurring, she could only smile on one side, and... " she hesitated, clearly trying to maintain her composure but still sounding a bit forlorn when she said, "She couldn't remember my name..."

"Oh, god, Mom, I'm sorry... is there anything I can do?"

She took a deep breath and regained her composure. "Yes," she said simply. "She's asked for you."

Isaak froze. This could only mean one thing, and it was the thing he had been dreading since his grandmother turned 75 or so... "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously. 

"You know exactly what I mean Isaak."

He groaned softly. "But Mom-"

"No 'buts,'" she said. "She told me to send The Sleigh to get you."

Isaak blinked at that for a moment. "Wow," he mused. "She really is serious."

The Santa Society by Bob Swanson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.
Based on a work at http://billyuno.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-santa-society-prologue-part-1.html.