Ellington Boulevard: A Novel in A-Flat by Adam Langer

Author:Adam Langer [Langer, Adam]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Literary
ISBN: 9780385522069
Google: DKU86s2G3DwC
Amazon: 0385522061
Publisher: Spiegel & Grau
Published: 2008-01-20T22:00:00+00:00

attractive, thought he and Muriel would make a better match—but Ike

can’t find it. He tells Maestro that after he quit the band, he quit just about 1 9 4

A N O F F E R I S A C C E P T E D

everything else too—drinking, smoking, playing music, Muriel too. No

love had ever really existed between them anyway—all they had in com-

mon were bad memories, crossword puzzles, books, negative energy, and

need. Yeah, Maestro says, sometimes you have to let people go.

Finally Ike stands, places his forearms on the cement ledge, and gazes

out at the city. Yes, spring is approaching already, and buds are forming on

the trees in St. Nicholas Park. Trucks emblazoned with PHASE ONE DEMO-

LITION are stalled on 139th. Turning to the south, Ike sees cranes, girders, half-finished high-rises. He clears his throat and turns to Maestro. He says

that lately he’s been wondering if he made a mistake by leaving the band.

Then he stops and swallows. No, Maestro tells Ike as he pedals, he doesn’t

think so; Ike did what he thought was right at the time, and no one can

ever fault a man for doing what he thought was right. Ike was always Ike,

played to his own rhythm, never gave a damn about what others thought.

Ike shakes his head. He doesn’t know about all that anymore, he says.

Sometimes he wonders whether the reason he acted as if he cared so damn

little about everything was that he really cared too damn much—about the

music, about his family. He figured the only way he could cope was to keep

to himself. But that was a selfish way to live and he can’t live that way forever; he realizes that he has to start playing again. Still, he’s trying to play for different reasons now, not to blow away the anger and the memories,

just for the joy of doing it. He thinks he could contribute to the band again, take up where he left off.

The timer on the bike dings and Maestro stops pedaling. He picks up a

towel and wipes his chest and forehead, then walks to the roof door and

exits, leaving Ike alone outside in the fading afternoon. The sun has disap-

peared behind a cloud, and a new, sharp chill is in the air. Ike looks at the stationary bicycle, at Maestro’s empty hot tub. The emptiness reminds him

of Herbie at home alone on his pillow, time passing seven times faster than

it does for Ike; he considers if the animal even understands the passage of

time, or if each time he leaves his dog alone is an eternity, a minute no different from a day or a year. At the same time, he wonders if a stranger could take his place in his apartment, feed Herb, walk him every day and night,

and the dog would feel just as happy.

1 9 5

E L L I N G T O N B O U L E VA R D

Maestro pushes open the roof door and, smelling of baby powder, reen-

ters the outdoor area. You

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