They were at church. Â He was practicing with the praise band. Â His position in the praise band is very eclectic. Â He sings some, he plays a rhythm drum, occasionally blows on a trumpet, and has even been known to shake his hinny tambourine. Â Last night was no different.
She was snapping photographs. Â That’s one of the things she does to pass the time when she attends practice with him. Â Everyone has gotten used to ignoring Her. Â Perhaps He has gotten too used to ignoring her.
She said, “I like the way theÂ tambourineÂ is hanging off your trumpet. Â That would make a good photograph, especially with the sun glinting off the brass like that.”
He said, “That trumpet is a very expensive tambourine holder, but it seems to work.”
She said, “There’s a sunbeam coming in through the window and spotlighting it. Â It would make a great photograph but I don’t want your legs in the picture.”
He said, “I need the tambourine where it’s easy to grab.”
She stared at him. Â He looked at her quizzically, wondering why she looked annoyed. Â She pointed her index finger at him, moved her hand to the right and clearlyÂ enunciated, Â “Move!” Â He stepped aside. Â She snapped the pic. Â The sunbeam was gone. Â The tambourine no longer glowed, and, Lenora, one of the back up singers in the band, was giggling.
She looked at Lenora and said, “I don’t know why I try to be subtle. He doesn’t get hints. Â If I want him to respond I need to be direct and to the point.”
Lenora commiserated. “My husband is the same way. Â I think all men are. Â I doubt they know any other way to communicate. ”
She agreed. Â “All they want are the facts. Â Nice and simple.”
He said, “That’s not fair! Â We text and we email. Â We’ve moved beyond just the fax.”
She groaned. Â Lenora snatched her microphone off the stand and swung. Â He put his hands up. Â Lenora pretended to bludgeon him. Â The music director yelled, “Hey! Â This is a church! Â If you two have to fight, don’t damage the equipment!”
Lenora paused, stared at her microphone for a moment, then carefully returned it to the stand. She resumed the faux-bludgeoning with her fist.
The music director said, “Thank you. Â That’s much better. Â Now, do I need to call you lawyer, or can we finish this practice?
He said, “Well, you can call me a lawyer if you wish, but I usually only respond to my name.”
The music director took a deep breath, adjusted his guitar and began to count, “And a one and a two …”