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It was a well known fact that Professor Brewer and Dr. Rose couldn’t stand each other. This was a shame since they had to work together most of the day considering Professor Brewer was the staff accompanist for all of Dr. Rose’s choirs. There was no denying either man was unfit for his job. Professor Brewer played beautifully and sensitively, always deeply respectful of when to play louder on solo interludes within pieces and when to pull back to showcase the ensemble. He had a warm personality, befriending the first-year students by helping them write out their dictation in their scores and modulating easily whenever they wandered into a foreign key by accident so as not to expose their mistake. The graduate students all adored him because he was always willing to play whatever complex pieces they wanted to program on their conducting or chamber recitals. He’d arrive a cool five minutes before their rehearsals, nearly sending said graduate student into a panic, but he’d sit down on the piano bench, roll his shoulders back, and sight read the music perfectly every single time.
If Professor Brewer had one thing in common with Dr. Rose, it was this same level of perfection. After his family had lost their fortune, Dr. Rose had thrown himself into the one thing left he trusted in the world: his hands. He’d quickly achieved fame as a conductor and when he’d completed his doctorate, he’d set up shop at the first university to offer him tenure. Most of the students knew they were lucky to sing in his choirs because surely Dr. Rose would leave them for a more illustrious position any time now. That said, his choirs were highly competitive and unique.
The Jazzagals were an all-female acapella group with an unfortunate name the school of music wouldn’t allow Dr. Rose to change no matter how many times he petitioned to have it changed. When Dr. Rose had arrived, they’d been little more than a student run abomination dedicated to performing old covers of 80s pop songs and going out for margarita Mondays at the local dive Mexican place. Dr. Rose had transformed them into an internationally elite acapella group known for their strict attention to detail and a repertoire that spanned from Hildegard von Bingen to Alessia Cara. After his work revitalizing the Jazzagals, Dr. Rose turned next to the Men’s ensemble, the self-proclaimed Rose Buds, who competed on the national circuit for collegiate Glee clubs. They were a bit more relaxed than the Jazzagals by nature and were often given new compositions from the composition program to test out. Both choirs were great but everyone knew Dr. Rose’s true pride and joy was Rose Cantorum.
Rose Cantorum was the only choir to meet every day and was an ensemble of thirty-six of the best and brightest the School of Music had to offer. Auditions were intense and required a waiver and an NDA in order to participate. There had been rumors of one student getting so worked up over the sight-reading portion of the audition, they’d passed out and Dr. Rose had just awkwardly left the room, but no one could ever confirm that. Once students did get pass the hurdle of the actual audition, they were privy to some wonderful music making and life lessons such as what was incorrect in the world of professional choral singing and how Mariah Carey is really a Lyric Coloratura and a front row seat to the daily Professor Brewer and Dr. Rose show.
“Professor Brewer, so kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Dr. Rose drawled from behind his music stand, casting a weary eye over the man in question from over the top of his thick rimmed black glasses. The bell in the courtyard had just barely chimed and Professor Brewer was clearly out of breath from having run up the four flights of stairs to the Choir Room. His usual crisp appearance was slightly disheveled, sweat visible around the collar of his dark blue button up shirt as he glared at Dr. Rose like he wanted to set him on fire with his eyes.
“You said—” He panted. “—we’d be in—” He drew in a ragged breath. “—the concert hall today!” Professor Brewer’s chest heaved up and down as he all but threw himself onto his piano bench, wincing when he realized it was far too low for him since Dr. Rose had used it for the choir’s warmups. His arms were positioned below the keys and he grumbled as he stood to adjust the bench, fingers flying deftly around the knop to raise the seat. Dr. Rose grabbed the pencil he kept tucked beneath his ear and tapped it against his music stand impatiently as he waited for Dr. Brewer to get himself in order. An alto giggled nervously, and Dr. Rose shot daggers toward the entire section.
“We could always do an alto specific part test if you’d like to comment, altos.” A chorus of strangled gulps and then the altos fell silent once more, the one who giggled tucked into the back behind the section leader for safety. Dr. Rose turned back toward Professor Brewer with a deep frown.
“If you’d bothered to check your e-mail this morning, Professor, you’d have noticed I wanted to spot check the Britten before we bother messing up the concert hall with it.” Professor Brewer closed his eyes briefly and everyone sat forward in their chairs a little. Would today be the day sweet Professor Brewer finally told Dr. Rose to take a hike or worse? But, as he did most days, he smiled at Dr. Rose through gritted teeth.
“Of course…my apologies, Dr. Rose.” Professor Brewer’s voice dipped low on Dr. Rose’s name and the pencil he’d been holding in his hand let out a small crack as he snapped it in two. He and Professor Brewer shared a long look and just when Dr. Rose opened his mouth to say something, Professor Brewer grinned and asked, “Rehearsal Marking?”
Dr. Rose nodded and then shook his head as if clearing it from the fog of consufion the rest of the choir was feeling at the strange exchange.
“We stopped thirteen after Letter B yesterday. Let’s pick up there.” Dr. Rose said and the rest of rehearsal went off without a hitch.
As the semester went on, a betting pool was started to determine just when Professor Brewer would finally snap. Dr. Rose was seemingly on his case every rehearsal, demanding wildly different playing styles from day to day and always using him as the punchline of his jokes.
“This melodic line has a color to it. I want you to picture the most crystalline blue waters as you sing this melodic line, like the Aegean Sea from the balcony of a yacht while you’re on a tour of the Mediterranean with your wealthy older lover.” Dr. Rose said, a wistful far-off look crossing his face as his expressive hands moved seemingly of their own accord, weaving the picture. “Right now, it sort of sounds more like Professor Brewer’s sad blue button up he got at the Gap.” Professor Brewer nodded at him, swaying slightly as his fingers danced over the keys as he lightly vamped the interlude to the choir’s entrance.
“Nothing wrong with durability, Dr. Rose.” No one could quite figure out why Dr. Rose went all pink in the face at that, but it was quickly forgotten in the wash of sound that followed.
Perhaps part of the reason the student body was so enrapture by the tension between their professors was whenever Dr. Rose referenced his husband, Professor Brewer started acting strangely. A hardness would play out across his face, almost like he didn’t know how to act when Dr. Rose started on about his beloved Patrick. No one had ever seemed to meet Patrick and at this point, the student body was too scared of how Dr. Rose would react to bring this up.
“Twyla, have you ever been in love?” Dr. Rose suddenly asked in the middle of rehearsing Eric Whitacre’s “This Marriage” The third-year soprano, who was often lost in her own thoughts, seemingly drifted off for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.
“I’m not really sure, Dr. Rose. I think I might have loved my ex, but it’s hard to remember if that was before or after he stole my car.”
Dr. Rose shook his head as if that would make the last thought he heard fall out.
“That’s…Twyla once again, I’d love to refer you to one of my friends in the Student Health Center. No, the kind of love I think of when I hear this piece is the way I felt the day I married my husband, Patrick.” There was a cacophonous smashing of piano keys as Professor Brewer’s arm slipped from where it had been resting on the edge of the piano’s lid. Everyone in the room jumped at the noise except for Dr. Rose, who just rolled his eyes like Professor Brewer was the most annoying human being alive and continued.
“I met my husband at one of the lowest points of my life but from the moment we met, he’s shown me nothing but kindness and affection. I love him even more than I love my Breville Oracle Touch Espresso Machine and it’s not just because he bought it for me for Christmas last year.” The students all laughed because everyone knew about Dr. Rose’s coffee obsession. One of the only ways he could be convinced to give make up part tests was to bring him a caramel macchiato, preferably from an off-campus coffee shop. There was a glint in Dr. Rose’s eye as the laughter calmed down, a sort of light that only ever appeared during a concert when the music started to really flow or when he talked about his Patrick.
“I hope that one day you all get to experience a love that makes you feel like you could climb a thousand mountains just because you know that person is waiting for you at the top.” A few emotional sniffles could be heard from the bass section. Dr. Rose waved his hand over in the direction of Professor Brewer. “Now if Professor Brewer would be so kind as to give us four bars from the tenor entrance, let’s dive back in.”
The day of the big fall concert arrived, and the entirety of Rose Cantorum was on edge. The preparations had been arduous, and Dr. Rose had grimly given them his signature nod of approval the Monday of that week, but there was still a lot that could go wrong. The first thing that went awry was Professor Brewer was not there at the start of their warmups. Dr. Rose was dressed in his tuxedo with the cuffs undone, his elegant hands twisted together as he fiddled with his wedding ring. The four gold bands he usually wore along with it were removed and tucked into a ring box that rested on the music stand in front of him along with his baton for their pieces that involved the faculty string ensemble
“How the fuck did he manage to be late tonight? We left the house at the same time.” Dr. Rose grumbled under his breath just loud enough for some of the choir members seated on the front row of the riser to hear but they payed it no mind. It wasn’t exactly unusual for Dr. Rose to let an f-bomb fly every once in a while, and although he was clearly talking about Professor Brewer, the students had just assumed they’d both been at some faculty function together prior to call time.
Professor Brewer’s absence hung heavy as Dr. Rose went behind the piano and walk them through several phrases in some of their more difficult pieces, plunking out the chords as best he could, but the choir sounded stilted and unsure of themselves without the familiar comfort of Professor Brewer’s hands on the keys beneath them. Dr. Rose looked more distraught than anyone had seen, visibly shaken and sullen even by his standards. His usual vibrancy seemed dulled even dressed so elegantly beneath the bright lights of the concert hall stage. There was the sound of the heavy stage doors slamming shut and Stevie, the woman who ran the concert hall, shouted, “For fuck’s sake, Patrick. He looks like he’s about to have a heart attack. Get your ass behind the piano.”
Professor Brewer barreled onto the stage, music tucked under his arm and his bow tie askew. Dr. Rose’s face immediately crumpled in relief.
“Sorry, sorry. You forgot this. I know you don’t like to conduct without it in your pocket whenever she’s not here.” Professor Brewer half-yelled, placing a small gold thing on Dr. Rose’s music stand.
“Oh.” Dr. Rose picked up the gold thing, what looked like a large golden A on a gold chain and tucked it into the inner pocket on his tuxedo jacket. Professor Brewer leaned in further and kissed Dr. Rose on the cheek before going to his place behind the piano. There was an audible noise of recognition as the choir began to put the pieces together. Professor Brewer was Patrick.
“Alright, settle down. No need to make a scene.” Dr. Rose said with a sigh. “Professor Brewer, walk them through their arpeggios. I’m going to have a word with Ms. Budd.” Dr. Rose stalked off the stage, but he couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. Professor Brewer smiled at them apologetically.
“Sorry gang. He gets like this whenever he misses his sister. She’s working a press tour in East Asia for about two months and she’s been at his first concert of the year since his graduate work.” He explained, like any of them were listening. Instead, there were all directing their full attention on the wedding ring on Professor Brewers hand that they somehow never noticed matched Dr. Rose’s.
David turned on his heel and made his way across the stage to the sound of thunderous applause, arm spreading wide as acknowledged his choir. They’d sung brilliantly, just as well as he could have hoped for, all anchored by the firmament of Patrick’s accompaniment. He managed to make it through the crowd of adoring parents, faculty, and season ticket holders in record time and supervised the risers being taken apart and stored properly unlike their last masterwork concertl he still had nightmares about twisted metal and his department head’s angry face. Patrick was waiting for him on the couch in the conductor’s green room suite. His bow tie was already off, and he was taping away at his phone, probably ordering David the meat lover’s pizza from Pagliacci’s he always requested post-concert.
David quickly toed off his dress shoes, for once not caring that socked feet were incorrect, and launched himself into Patrick’s lap.
“You absolute fucking loser!” David crowed joyfully, pressing kisses all over Patrick’s face. “Did you or did you not forget our bet?” Patrick laughed, the full bodied, unstoppable kind of laugh as David continued his kiss assault.
“Of course I didn’t!” Patrick shrugged, his smile soft and fond as he finally captured David’s lips with his own. No one had ever kissed David like Patrick did, like each kiss was a gift and David was the most precious thing in the world. Patrick smiled as he pulled back, thumb reaching up to stroke the corner of David’s mouth like he couldn’t help it. “You just looked so upset, I couldn’t let you think something was wrong with us, so I had to kiss you.”
David’s stomach did a fluttery flip, the adrenaline from the concert making him even more excited for the pizza and amazing sex he was going to have as soon as they got home. But he was also David Rose, so he had to rub this defeat in Patrick’s competitive face just a little.
“While that incredible sweet, husband of mine, you still owe me a piece from the latest Tom Ford collection and you will be playing “Dark Night of the Soul” this spring. The bet was Rose Cantorum couldn’t figure out we’re married before the Christmas concert. We had a rare group of mostly freshman who didn’t know us that well and I was looking forward to surprising them at the Christmas party with it, the looks of their faces would’ve been priceless!” Patrick wrinkled his nose.
“Ugh fuck Ola Gjeilo. I hate how he has to make everything complicated for the pianist for no reason.” David wriggled in Patrick’s lap, feeling giggly and giddy as he made Patrick buck up against his ass. “Fuck me instead?” David asked and Patrick rolled his eyes.
“Well that’s a given but we have to get a move on or the pizza is going to get to our house before we do.” David couldn’t bear the thought of that particular drama. He scrambled off Patrick’s lap and Patrick laced their fingers together as they started off toward the door. David looked down at their joined hands and swung them lightly as they walked out of the conductor’s green room suite and made the journey back home together.