Helena and Her Stupid Hat

“I hate that I’m not wearing my hat.”

It was terrible to not be able to wear the hat like she was supposed to when in uniform, but the roof of the cab was just too low. For want of a nail, thought Helena, the kingdom was lost. You took off your hat to fit inside a cab, and next you’d leave it behind, and then somebody else in the marching band would take their hat off to match you and keep the line balanced, and then soon there would be no hats and no standards at all. Dyed and messy hair making a rainbow, uniforms half on and half off, each line drifting to follow each individual’s musical expression, and soon it wouldn’t even be a marching band at all. It would just be a bunch of hung over musicians who’d stumbled into the same field. At least she still had her clarinet in her hands, at the ready.

The boy next to her tried for the umpteenth time to pretend he wasn’t looking at her hands, but his pursed lips, furrowed brow and the way his nose stood aloof as he glanced out of the corner of his eye gave him away. Or maybe it was the smell of the cab giving him the universal expression of someone who has smelled something terrible but would really like to avoid commenting on it. He could have made some sort of comment in response to her outburst about her hat though, thought Helena to herself, if only to be polite. Catching his gaze on her fingers again Helena adjusted her sweaty grip on the clarinet and nervously ran over her fingering one more time. Maybe that was what was so interesting, that she could deftly work each key independently. Why hadn’t she just put the clarinet back in its case before leaving her room?

The boy would have been handsome enough, without all the face paint he had on. She supposed you couldn’t really judge when you’d gotten up in the morning and immediately slung on a bright red jacket with gold and black epaulettes. But she did think the red half of his face made him look like he’d been out in the sun too long and the black half like he was doing a blackface fraternity sketch from the 1950’s. For a moment upon bumping into him on the sidewalk, she’d been afraid he was going to kiss her and leave paint all over her face.

Why had she ever thought that, she wondered? They had both bounded out of the hotel at the same time, both oversleepers worried about being late to The Big Game for entirely different reasons. If Helena was late she’d miss her only chance to take the field and perform and likely be cut from the band, where he would only miss the first quarter and a bit of warm beer and shouting. Maybe she’d end up watching the game and have some warm beer and shouting of her own. They could watch it together. Maybe she should ask where he was sitting. Maybe he wouldn’t mind. He seemed nice. Even with stupid paint on his face.

She’d been sprinting out the front door of the hotel, or really waddling as fast as one could reasonably do in scratchy white pants with a stiff red stripe down the side that were clearly tailored for someone with much longer legs than Helena could boast. In the cab The boy had his left leg jammed up against the divider the way he was sitting, sort of a quarter turned so he could spread his legs provocatively and still leave room for her hat to awkwardly claim the space in the middle of the bench seat. He seemed very concerned about not crushing her hat, that was good. He must be tall to need to hold his legs open against the seat that way.

He was tall, of course she knew that, she’d crashed into him and had to look up into his red and black face looming over her like a demon. Helena was glad he hadn’t leaned in and kissed her then and gotten paint all over her face. Why on earth did she keep thinking he would ever have done that? This made no sense. Instead of kissing her he’d offered to split a cab like a normal person.

“I’m supposed to be there already. I’m in the band.” Shut up, Helena. “Do you think this will take much longer?”

His mouth opened hesitantly as his eyes shot over to her. “I don’t know,” he said, “It’s not far, but this traffic… I don’t really know. Will they start without you?”

Okay, maybe not that bright. Or not just not that familiar with marching band music. That was too bad. Or not all that important, he clearly just wanted to see a football game. And like everyone else would see that little gap in the line where Helena was supposed to be playing without consciously noticing it and wondering who was supposed to be there. Like a rough patch on the roof of your mouth that you kept unconsciously licking with the end of your tongue. That was Helena’s contribution to the marching band, filling in that spot in the line so you wouldn’t touch it, wouldn’t lick it. The image of the boy putting his hands on her shoulders and a tongue reaching out, eyes closed, popped into her head with such force that she shuddered trying to shake off the entire metaphor. Then she actually felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey,” the boy said gently. “I’m sure it will be okay. You’ve got plenty of time. You got this.”

The black and red face nodded sagely with a blink from his suddenly ancient eyes, the wisdom of one who have seen a lifetime of sorrow and joy. Or maybe someone who has no idea what they’re talking about but feels it suddenly important to pretend otherwise. He squeezed her shoulder and nodded, pursing his lips with authority. It was kind of sweet, in a dumb way. At first Helena felt mean for having this thought, except then he clearly didn’t know what to do with his hand so he left it there on her epaulet while they stared uncomfortably into each other’s eyes.

Helena tried lowering her left shoulder millimeter by millimeter and blinked her eyes forward towards the back of the cabby’s head, until she could turn her head every so slightly and gently lean forward to squirm out from under his hand. “Traffic,” she uttered by way of explanation, squinting through the front windshield like there was something new to see that she needed to lean forward to examine more closely. And oh dear god, now he was rubbing her back.

Just a quick stroke up and down, and then through the thick coat she wasn’t sure where his hand came to rest, but didn’t want to move for fear of finding out. She thought about leaning back suddenly and squashing it with a quick, totally unrehearsed “Oops,” but the word stuck in her throat as she looked back at him. He was leaning his head out the cab window to look forward, and there was a certain gleam of sunlight on the black face paint that gave him the most beautiful definition on the line of his chin. A gust of wind gently fluffed his dark hair like a photographer had signaled for it. Was his hand maybe on her thigh?

No, she realized, his hand was on her hat. His big yet she noticed gently articulated hand must be crushing something on top of her stupid hat, resting there like it was. One finger was almost imperceptibly moving, stroking the feather on the front so gently it wouldn’t even know it was being touched. A medical student had once told Helena that he was training to be a surgeon, and leaned in to explain that he could play a body like a violin, before he threw up on her shoes. The boy had the rough hands of a carpenter. A woodworker. A man who firmly shaped and carved banisters into gentle sweeping curves, before stroking in a varnish, in a single stroke from the top to the very bottom. She thought. He wasn’t even looking at her now, he had no idea what part of her was under his gentle but firm grip. That is was just her stupid hat.

She leaned in closer to him, aware of her chin and sensitive parts of her chest hovering right over his hand. “Could I, um, I was wondering could you just–” she began, before the shout came in over her ear from behind.

“TONY!”

Helena whirled and flopped back against her seat, her face red. There were hands on the edge of her window. She risked turning slightly to see the giant face above her. There was a chin, and lipstick and blonde hair everywhere. Helena breathed shallowly, like the time she was eight and a leopard had come right up to the bars at the zoo. She hadn’t been afraid, but just didn’t want to make even the slightest movement that would spoil the moment and send the big leopard leaping up into a tree. She wondered if the leopards in the enclosure had real trees to climb. She wondered if the girl in the window was wearing anything with leopard fur printed on it. She thought the answer was definitely yes.

“Oh my god Tony!! We’re so late! Hang on, let me get Tina we’ll ride with you!”

Trumpets weren’t this loud. Helena would know.

‘Tony’ leaped into action. “Uh… we, yeah!” He turned back to Helena, looking at her very seriously. “I forgot to ask, do you have money to pay for a cab in that uniform? Because my friends could pay half and I could pay half, so…”

Helena felt a tear welling up from someplace inside her and her throat closing. She nodded. Of course, she thought as she nodded vigorously to Tony. Of course I’m such an idiot that I would get in a cab with no money and think some total stranger was going to pay for me and my stupid clarinet to miss our bus. Of course I followed the first man who looked like he knew what he was doing, like a child lost on a field trip. Why wouldn’t I do that? Tony’s huge, strong hand was no longer covering her hat so she picked it up and tried to put it on before remembering it would crush up against the ceiling.

And then the door was thrust open and the blonde was already sliding in and her hip was coming down firmly onto Helena’s thigh. Helena gracefully jerked her butt up against Tony’s knee, which he withdrew less gracefully, giving her room in the middle. Helena flopped back and faced forward, and hurriedly fingered all the buttons on her clarinet. ‘Tina’ was getting in the front seat, but turned back to look at Tony, her lips drawn back poised to speak as the tip of her tongue gently tapped her shockingly white canine. Tina paused as she looked at Helena, looked back at Tony, then turned around in her seat with an amused roll of her eyes.

“We went out early this morning and we were looking for a cab, it’s so funny your cab got stopped here. Oh my god are you in the band?!” The scent of rum washed over Helena’s face as the blonde shouted in her ear. It was almost noon. “That’s so funny!”

“Clarinet,” Tony added helpfully, gesturing to the instrument. As he moved he knocked Helena’s hat to the floor at his feet. He picked it up and tried to offer it back to her before setting it down on his crotch. Helena’s gaze lingered on the hat poised over the gap between his thighs for a moment before snapping her head the other direction. Blondie’s miniskirt was red and black leopard print. This apparently was a thing that existed and was sold in stores. Her breasts hung heavily over it in a white top like an airbag was going off, giving new proportions to the print of the school logo stretched over them. This girl clearly had more school spirit than Helena could ever aspire to. Tony was still talking. “They left her behind, if you can believe it. Bunch of jerks, I say.”

“What a bunch of bitches!” cooed Blondie at Tony.

“Did you two want to sit together?” Helena offered.

“We can’t really change seats now,” murmured Tony.

“Oh, I can change to any seat in a moving car,” offered the blonde in return, with a laugh that made Helena jump. “I used to be able to climb all the way into my the trunk of my parents’ car from the front seat without stepping on anyone.”

“No!” said Tony a little too sharply as she leaned over Helena with a giggle. “We’re starting to move, so… let’s just wait.”

“Chinese fire drill!” shouted the dark-haired one from the front with a series of claps. She had rich dark hair that glinted in the sunlight like Tony’s.

The blonde thought whatever a Chinese Fire Drill was to be quite funny. “You need to calm down! Hey, play some soothing music on your flute!”

“No,” interjected the cabby with one finger raised. Both of the women suppressed laughter while everyone waited in silence for his finger to achingly slowly lower back to the steering wheel.

“We’re sorry, sir. Just really excited for the game. She’s uh… she plays with the band. Not here, though. We don’t play loud music in cabs.” Once again Tony had come to the rescue without a single trace of eloquence, thought Helena. She fingered the buttons on her clarinet and put her lips on the mouthpiece, and ignored another snort from her right.

“Tony who’s your friend?” This came from the front seat.

“Uh… she’s in the band. We were both going to the game, from the hotel. Thanks so much for splitting a cab with me, by the way, but you should totally let me pay this. That way you can run in and join up with the band right away, and I’ll settle up. No please, I insist. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Helena didn’t say anything. She looked directly into Tony’s eyes and thought she should make her face into the kind of dazzling smile you were supposed to reward gentlemen with, like a token from a lady. She realized she hadn’t actually said anything to him the entire trip besides, “I hate that I’m not wearing my hat,” and was probably now looking at him with the the teary-eyed trembling smirk of cartoon madwoman. And yet she just could not stop noticing the way his eyelashes moved.

Arms came clambering over Helena’s shoulders from behind, manicured fingertips stroking the paint on Tony’s face. “Oooooh… my hero,” crooned the blonde, while the brunette in the front seat let out a satisfied cackle. Tony batted the fingers away from his lips, and gave the slightest wink to Helena before turning forward.

“We can get out here, sir. I’ll just need ten dollars back. Tina, Cindy, let’s go. Hop on out.” Tony had the bills in the driver’s hand before Helena saw him even move for his wallet. “That’s hers,” he said as the change came back, and the driver handed a bill to Helena who reflexively snatched it up as her lips parted in surprise. Good, one more dumb look on her face for him to remember. She suddenly became aware that Tony was already outside, closing the doors his friends had left open, having left his door open for her to follow. Helena scrambled out the open door and chased him around the back of the cab.

She held up the ten dollar bill in her fingers. He still had her stupid hat, holding it reverently in both hands but directly covering his crotch. What was it with this guy?

“This isn’t mine,” she said.

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have zero cash on you and no ride. Our marching band are clearly jerks. Do you have any pockets? Someplace you can tuck that?”

Helena looked down at her scratchy, sweaty pants with the stripe and thought about where to keep a ten dollar bill. She wasn’t sure there was a good way to get at her bra under her uniform. “I also forgot my hotel room key.”

“I think the hotel can make you a new one. I mean if you can’t get into your room, just come look for me and I’ll… I mean you seem nice, I have a room and you’re totally invited. That’s totally not what you meant. I just mean you won’t be homeless tonight, we’ll take care of you.”

That was definitely not what she had meant. It wasn’t. She thought for a minute about what it would feel like walking into his hotel room anyways. “How do I find you to give you your money back?”

“You want to watch the game with me? My roommate missed his train down here, so I’m stuck with his girlfriend and her, uh… well, you met them. They’re actually pretty nice, just kind of loud, but it’s a football game, so nobody will notice. I have an extra ticket. Tell you what, I could sell it to you for ten bucks. Or just for free.”

A roar went up from the stands behind them as the game kicked off. Helena realized in the pit of her stomach she had no idea where the band was supposed to enter. And right now the ten bucks line was sort of passing for wit.

“Did you have breakfast yet? I’ll buy you one of those giant pretzels. You already look like you’re wearing a Prussian military uniform, let me get you a beer and a pretzel to go with it. You’ll feel better by halftime. You got this.”

She hadn’t even told him her name yet.