Patrick Kneess: A Fictional Narrative

Patrick knees are split as far apart in the seat as possible. He’s sat in many concert halls many times over, and he still can’t understand why the seats are so small, the rows packed in so tightly together. He arrives quite early and alone so he can sit in the middle of the row in the middle of the auditorium. This way he can avoid that whole dance of trying to allow big hipped women and round bellied men past him in his chair. The turnout tonight is good. It’s the orchestra’s Christmas concert, and he’s fallen asleep on the sofa many nights listening to the sharp wines Greensleeves, his mind, in those few hazy moments, at ease.
Sloane arrives just as the conductor, a stately-looking blonde woman with posture which transforms the moment …show more content…
Oleander, every word, willfully ignoring her father.
“Sloane---“
“Dad,” she says sharply.
He adjusts himself in his seat, crossing his leg over the other.
Corey is second chair cello. Come next year, Patrick always says, wholeheartedly, but Corey seems content where he is so he doesn’t push. For now, he is happy to play “O Come All Ye Faithful” at half-tempo in his for hours, and Patrick tells himself that this is more than okay. He sees Corey look into the audience. He does so not, as Patrick hopes, looking for his father, but more surveying the crowd, trying to feel like a part of the orchestra, part of a group, so that his nerves don’t fail him.
Mrs. Oleander’s surprisingly delicate hands fly up and the children play an “A” to tune. Then, after a moment of quite tuning, the soft music begins. Patrick watches Corey’s eyes glaze over the music, every so often, his expression of childish concentration changing to one of ease. Corey is watching Mrs. Oleander for certain cues, his little black head swaying in time with her motions. His elbow is stiff, his wrist fluid, just like Patrick taught him.
“I know this. What’s it called again,” Sloane asks, fumbling for her program.
“Greensleeves,” is his