"Oliver, you like music. I know you do." It was true. "We have a teacher—a Master Drummer. A lot of people have never drummed before, and they always have a good time."
"I don't have a drum."
"We sell them—simple ones. I have an extra one. I'll bring it for you." She was enthusiastic and meant well. He couldn't say no.
The morning of the trip was cool and foggy. The group was to meet at the Conservancy and then be bussed to Wolf Neck State Park. Jennifer spotted him as soon as he drove in.
"Morning! I love your jacket." She reached out and felt it between her thumb and first two fingers. That Mark.
"Morning, Jennifer. Yeah, it's nice. Linen," he said, but he was damned if he was going to mail it to her.
"I brought your drum; it's in the car. I'll get it." She skipped over to a white Volvo and took a drum from the back seat. "You're going to love this." He accepted it, feeling foolish. She handed him a wooden striker. "You can hold it any way that is comfortable." She took it back and tucked it between her left arm and side. "Like this, or straight up, if you're sitting."
"O.K., I get it," Oliver said.
"We'll be leaving in about ten minutes." He took a seat near the front of the bus and tried to look relaxed. The drum was shaped like a miniature conga, handmade with a skin head that was lashed tight. He rested it on his lap and watched cars drive in. Twelve or fifteen people got on the bus, most of them his age or younger, mostly women in twos and threes.
Jennifer bounced in and sat beside him. "We'll pick up a few more on the way. There's another group coming down the coast. I hope it doesn't rain. Think positive thoughts, Oliver."