An Aquatic Symphony

As the musicians tuned their instruments, schools of angel fish and common molly swished by in their masterful style. Other masters, like the ones with their tools of music, continued to warm up like NASCAR stock cars revving their engines.

The auditorium provided wide swaths of glass to see the water and creatures. Huge walls of wood shaped with the symphony in mind accompanied and integrated with the glass. It allowed the acoustics to boost the quality of the sounds emitted from the instruments. Along with a panoply of aquatic life doing their little water dances.

“His retirement date is when?” Oboist Taliba Vasser asked.

“He’ll be out of here by the end of the season,” fellow oboist Willie Blythe answered.

“He’s the worst. He couldn’t conduct a freight train. He should be brought outside to pasture.”

“I think he’s doing a fine job,” violist Shelly Davers pointed out.

“You would, Shelly. Didn’t you both have a thing?”

“I most certainly did not. I simply grew fond of him following his wife’s death. We were never an item, though,” Shelly explained.

Taliba kissed her teeth. “Well, I still think he’s been a subpar leader of this orchestra. We had to fight him to get to this aquarium. He thought it was ‘beneath’ him until we coaxed him into securing a date play.”

“As I remember it,” clarinetist Kenley Gassinger mentioned, “he’s never been on time and his motions are always off."

Taliba tapped her oboe. “Church! The man literally just gets up here and makes a mess of our beauty. Lionel cannot even come close to Reannon. She was the best. She had a run like none other and knew the downbeat.”

“He knows the downbeat,” Shelly insisted.

Taliba and Gassinger looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

“Besides his motions, he’s just too unsure of himself. He lacks confidence after these three years. I know he lost Yellina. I get that. But he should be able to conduct and make a difference between his professional and personal lives,’ Gassinger opined.

“I think you both are being cruel,” Shelly replied. “He’s doing the best he can with what he has.”

“Can you be more phony?” Taliba asked.

Shelly huffed. She turned in her chair and resumed her tuning.

“She’s just upset that she didn’t get to marry the man,” Taliba sneered.

“I’ve never been a violent person. I reject everything the both of you have said against Lionel. It is a shame that we cannot all support our conductor. He is the one that controls the flow, yes, but he’s more than that. He is a fixture of greatness that the city of Wilmington is fortunate to have. As small as Delaware is, we are fortunate to have an out-of-towner like him to be our leader.”

Gassinger tapped his foot slowly. “And the award goes to….”

“I’m serious. This whole bickering about motions and my relationship to him have gone too far. You’re assigned a section. We all are. Unless you’re going to lead a mutiny against him, you should just tune your instruments and engage with the performance. We’re in this wondrous aquarium. Captive aquatic animals are all around us, Their colors, their fins, their faces are all going to be part of our music. The audience will never know this little bit of disagreement. What we have is a chance to send off Lionel on his last tour.”

Taliba replied, “Okay Shelly, we’ll back off from your man.”

Shelly stood up and made a motion to bash Taliba over the head with her viola. Taliba jumped back in horror. Gassinger raised up from his seat.

“This could be a contact sport,” Shelly pointed out. Then Lionel Watkins walked to the stage to much fanfare and applause and Shelly, Gassinger, Blythe and Taliba tapped their instruments and stomped their feet in agreement with their conductor.