20. That Music

"You're looking for Ewan McClain?"

A man with dark skin and a large nose spoke to Anderson. Anderson offered him the seat next to him, and he nodded and sat down. When he tried to order a glass of whiskey from the bartender, he said he couldn't drink strong liquor before a performance yet and ordered a bottle of beer. He introduced himself as saxophone player 'Joy' and said he had been playing saxophone at Flying Ball for 20 years. When Anderson said then he must know a lot about this place, Joy said he'd probably been here longer than the owner, and that the woman laughing on stage now was, as far as he knew, the fifth Clara.

When asked if he knew about other bands too, he said he was close with people for the first five years, but after that people kept changing so he didn't get close. When Anderson brought up Ewan McClain, Joy asked why he was curious about him. Anderson said his son had turned into a madman, and if left alone, many people would die. Only then did he nod, gulp down a glass of beer, and open his mouth.

"He was quite a famous trumpet player here. Long before I came to this place. I think he had a family, but for some reason he didn't live with them. He got along well with people. How should I say it? He poured his life into music, I guess? Most days he spent with people who made music. Once, a kid about this tall came looking for him here. Said he was Ewan McClain's son. He didn't hide his son. Rather, he proudly introduced him to people as his son without hesitation. They probably stayed here together for a while."

Joy smiled bitterly and drank his beer as he recalled an old friend who had disappeared from memory for a long time.

"He looked quite happy when he was with his son. How should I say it? It was like he wanted the child to understand his life, I guess? He often taught his son the trumpet. After spending a few months like that, the child's mother came to the club. After arguing with him, she eventually took the child and left. After that, McClain seemed to have lost some energy. He didn't come to performances often. He would disappear from the club without a word, and when he came back, he drank a lot. I think he must have missed his son a lot. On days off, he would silently play the same song alone on stage over and over. Then he said he'd go home for a bit and left, and never came back after that."

Anderson said he died in a traffic accident 12 years ago on the way to Allegrin, and Joy nodded silently as if that's what he thought. When Anderson asked about his trumpet, Joy said he probably took it with him the day he went home. When Joy asked if his story helped find his son, Anderson smiled and said he wasn't sure yet. Finally, when he asked what music he taught his son, Joy answered he didn't remember well. Anderson asked if he was happy while he was here. Then Joy smiled bitterly and said.

"Someone once said God gave each person one talent as a gift. But sometimes that talent isn't helpful for making a living. If you had such a talent, what do you think you would do? Would you abandon the talent? And spend time doing work you hate your whole life? Or would you do what you love and live a different life from others? McClain... or maybe most of the friends here are living such lives. While agonizing over such questions with no right answer."

Anderson nodded silently at Joy's words. Then saying thanks for making time, he placed bills on the table and got up from his seat. Just as he was about to leave through the door, Joy spoke.

"Ah, come to think of it, one song he liked to play when he was alone comes to mind. 1973, there's a song composed by Stephen Sondheim. 'Send in the Clowns.' It was the talk of Broadway night after night. Probably no one played that song as well as McClain did."