Bab 6: Meeting the Guys

Just as she told me, her friends were good people. There were three of them, including the wiry drummer, who joined us after his band was done with their performance. They were all university kids, a year or two younger than me. Dylan was sensitive and smart, full of good-natured irony. He had a cautious, gentle smile and talked with a certain ease that only people comfortable with themselves tended to have. Dylan was the vocalist, and although I had yet to hear him sing, I was sure that his voice would at least have personality. He also played the rhythm guitar, while Nelly was on lead guitar. She had very pale blond hair, cut short, and skin so white that in the darkness it looked almost blue. Her figure was lean and athletic, almost amazonian. Nelly didn't speak: she was mute. But she was able to emote so much with just her face and body language that her silent presence was vividly felt in the conversation -- when she wanted to. When it wasn't enough she would make a quick series of gestures at Claire, who, as it turns out, was fluent in sign language, and acted as Nelly's herald to the outside world. Ted, the drummer, was silent and joyful: he was simultaneously tired and high on adrenalin after the performance, and was content to just sit in the corner and sip a beer. There was an unlit cigarette in his hand, which he would sometimes absentmindedly spin between his fingers. Claire herself was the engine of this little group, a central link that had brought everyone together. She played the bass guitar, but only because she needed to do something on stage. Her true value was that of a behind-the-scenes master: she fueled the band with vigor and enthusiasm, wrote the music and worked magic on the computer to make it sound good. Interestingly enough, while Claire created the melody, Nelly was the one who wrote all the lyrics. They were both inexperienced but obviously talented.