A Brass Wail by Andrew Kim
He heard the crackle of a needle placed on vinyl echoing throughout the massive theater just before it started once more. Crimson curtains rose and revealed two figures in a tangled embrace so close that they could’ve been melded together. Looming above them was a lamp post of intricate Venetian design. Its four heads bathed the embracing figures in a warm glow. A moment or two passed before the crackle of the vinyl was accompanied by the sound of strings, and the figures poised and posed.
The figures stepped to and from the lamppost as the strings from the vinyl played a melody that dipped and rose in time. Of the two figures, there was a man dressed in high-waisted slacks and a tailcoat. The other, a woman, wore a frilly blouse that, when tucked, hung slightly over a long, sleek skirt. With faces caked in powdery white and pink blush, which clashed violently with the arched and creasing smiles they wore. Lips a deep and bright scarlet. Their teeth faintly flaxen, yet pristine in structure. They gazed at each other and the audience with wide open eyes. They’d twirl out and spin into each other’s arms in as much time as the waving pace of the song allowed. Moving in two-step strides before waiting a beat and repeating.
Moments after the dance started, someone began weeping. He sat in the dead center of the theater, several rows back. The only audience member. He wailed in rising and falling arcs that peaked nearly suddenly and slowly fell in cascading bounces. A strange, piercing harmony accompanied the crackling strings that threatened to drown them out entirely. The man leaned over the chair in front of him with his arms outstretched towards the dancers. He moaned and mumbled unintelligible words and looked with sad, wanting eyes. He’d sob and cover his face with a hand and pound his head with a balled fist while cursing himself. From there, he’d pause for breath only to look back up and plead to them, but he would not stop crying for long. His arms stretched out like feeble, frail vines reaching to the sun for warmth. With frostbitten fingers reaching for a bonfire that seemed to grow farther after every waking moment.
There were times it would seem as if the man had stopped crying. When his lament would crescendo and fall into silence for moments. In those moments, he’d watch silently with tears streaming, only for him to pick back up like before. The dancers carried on with indifference, their grins akin to great yellow crescents. Seemingly without blinking. Despite the man’s reedy and horn-like cries that occasionally engulfed the strings from the vinyl, they danced on seemingly without hearing him. The music never changed.
At once, the vinyl had ceased emitting anything other than a crackling sound. When the music stopped, the dancers turned to face the auditorium, still holding hands; they sent kisses to their audience. After a while, they let their palms fall to their sides while they stood and looked out into the dark to take a bow with smiles as wide as ever. There was no encore. With their heads still bowing to the floor, the curtain fell, and they disappeared.
The man in the auditorium sat weeping silently, head hung over his lap, never ceasing his whimpers. Not even when an exit door opened and the sound of wooden-heeled shoes drew closer to him. Nor when an attendant scooted across the row to him and urged him to leave. The man just cried. Occasionally, he’d mutter unintelligible curses—to whom the attendant couldn’t tell. The attendant attempted to persuade the man to come with him, urging him to cease his tears. The attendant shook the man’s shoulder while the man shook his head in response. Finally, the attendant asked the man, Haven’t you had enough? To which the man said nothing. Accepting defeat, the attendant walked away—the click-clacking of his shoes echoing throughout the empty hall. The exit door creaked open, and for a moment, a warm auburn glow pierced the shadow-filled auditorium. Before entering the light, the attendant pivoted—his shoes facing the darkness, hesitant to leave it to its own devices. After a moment, the door creaked and slammed, letting a deafening crash linger in the silence. The man waited to watch the dance once more.
