SAVED BY THE MUSIC

The taxi’s spinning wheels spit pebbles and dirt as it left me behind at the marina’s gate. The dusty haze was a perfect fit for my state of mind.
I wobbled across the driveway and into the marina, trying to balance with my heavy suitcase. Sweat beaded under my bangs.
It was unbearably bright, like the sun was aiming right at me. But looking around, I decided that the marina needed all the brightening it could get. Damaged boats lined the gravel-filled boatyard, all of them in dry dock, up on stilts like big crutches—a nautical hospital. Their exposed insides were like my wrecked life. But at least someone cared enough to fix them.
The sounds of saws, drills, and hammers punctured the air as I passed the workers using them. I tried tuning out the men’s jeering whistles.
One yelled out, “Nice ass.”
Another called, “Hey, Slim.”
Some people really got off on taunting strangers.
I crunched though the gravel, kicking up pieces as I moved toward the water. Sailboats, cruisers, and yachts were all tied with rope to the docks.
So where was my Aunt Agatha’s barge? What did a barge even look like?
Aunt Agatha had told me about the barges that kings rode on centuries before, but she’d never actually described their appearance. There didn’t seem to be anything worthy of royalty bobbing about in this marina, at least not anything I saw.
“Over here, Willow!” a scratchy voice called out.
There was Aunt Agatha, waving from the deck of a huge and hideous metal monstrosity. This blows, I thought, doubting there’d be any cable TV on this scow.
My aunt hurried off the vile green vessel, prancing along a wooden plank across the water to reach me.
“What is that ugly thing?” I asked.
“That barge is our future concert hall!”
She couldn’t be serious.

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