Grace by Calvin Baker Page B

crazy.”
    â€œI’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, kissing her atop the head, where the walk and the heat had lifted her scent to the crown of her scalp. I inhaled her fragrance deep into my diaphragm, deep as memory, and if I had my way I would have never ceased.

12
    I had left my room key at the front desk of the hotel, where I had not been for several days. When I returned that night and asked for it, the night clerk looked at me appraisingly, without recognition, and what felt like undue suspicion.
    â€œ Et, vous-êtes? ”
    â€œ M. Roland. ”
    â€œ Et, quel est votre numéro de chamber? ”
    â€œ Au dernier étage. ” It was the only room on the floor, and the only one in the hotel with a balcony.
    â€œ Et, que faites-vous, M. Roland? ” he asked, attempting to seem nonchalant, but obviously wondering why I did not keep set hours.
    â€œI’m a writer,” I said briskly.
    â€œI see,” he nodded, still looking confused. “And how come you speak French, you are American?”
    I had tried to humor him before, but was unamused by his insolence, and gave him a look to let him know what part of the desk I needed him to operate. His cheekiness may have been motivated by anything. It may have been something specific. I didn’t care as long as he got my key, and called me if there was a goddamned fire in the middle of the night.
    â€œAh, oui ,” he snapped to attention, scrambling to retrieve the keys. “You know, I once saw Miles Davis perform, many years ago at Olympia, when I was a young man. It was raining, and I did not have a ticket, so I wait by the gate. When the usher isn’t looking I sneak in, and run, and do not look back.
    â€œWhen I stopped running, I am in the front, with all the special people. There is a seat free, and I take it. Nobody say nothing. The lights went dark and it was the most amazing concert I have ever seen. At the end the people next to me, in the furs coats, invite me to another party, because they see how I love the music, or maybe see I listen in a different way.
    â€œThe party was in a small, petit , petit club, maybe the size of this reception, and when Mr. Davis come, everybody shut up. He went to the front of the room, and still does not say anything, and he turn his back on us. It is like, fuck you, my appointment is with the music.
    â€œHe create a space that nothing can enter but pure music. He begin to play, and it is even better than at the concert, and no one say nothing the whole two hours. It was the best night of my entire life. And it is only because a spirit see me, and take me from the rain and put me in the concert, and the same spirit put me in the party. Life is like this, no?”
    â€œWhen we seize it, my friend.”
    â€œOr are fortunate and remember what gives us happiness, and see possibility to have it.”
    We were friends after that, and his words were still with me the next morning when I left the hotel, easy-hearted and centered, to see Genevieve. On my way to her place I stopped to buy bread at our favorite pâtisserie , and oranges for juice from the fruit seller. It was still early when I reached the top of the stairs to the atelier, the quiet morning light streaming through the skylight in the hall, where I could hear her footsteps on the other side, so knew she was awake.
    When I knocked there was no answer. I called out to her, full of a joy that had welled up inside of me for no seeming reason, but still she did not respond. I knocked again, louder, before fishing in my pocket for the key. As I turned it in the lock I heard unintelligible sounds from the other side, but the security chain was fastened and the door would not budge.
    I rang her on the telephone, but could not reach her that way either, so thought she must have been wearing headphones, or earplugs. I wrote a note, and slid it under the door, before leaving her breakfast on the table outside in the