The heat of the sun even at this time in the morning was beginning to make him feel dolorous, but it was too early to expect a lake breeze to ease his discomfort. The suit he was wearing just added another degree to his anguish and it was almost time to join the other teens and the crowd gathering at the Covered Markets. He pushed a finger between his throat, the collar of his white shirt and the tie he was wearing, hoping to ease the stranglehold the cloth had on his oesophagus then gently eased his shiny black shoe back to the pavement. With a final glance at the mountains bordering Lac Léman, he drew in a nervous breath and gradually turned to face down the Quai de la Rouvenaz and the short walk towards the Covered Markets, leaving the restaurant, Le Palais Oriental, standing guard over the position he had just deserted.
Entering the bustling Place du Marché, Ryan stopped short of the noisy crowd waiting for the proceedings to begin, and for a moment his gaze diverted to the Freddie Mercury monument imbedded on the foreshore’s pavement. The gregarious statue arrested his attention and fleetingly, he wondered whether it would be possible to make a living from the one thing he loved above all else... music. Freddie Mercury’s story was to some degree an inspiration to Ryan, and if he could make it from rags to riches then surely Ryan could too.
Euphoria swept over the teenager, pondering the dream job he had organised for himself at the jazz festival in a few days. It was only cleaning the venue, but at least the position allowed him free entry to all the performances. As a younger teen, his parents had forbidden him from attending the festivals of the past but now he was eighteen, they hadn’t challenged his decision. Yet before he could entertain the dream of a music career, he had to get through the morning's ceremony, after which the real excitement of the jazz festival could begin.
Glancing around the excited crowd gathered in family groups and nervously preening their exquisitely dressed teenage progeny, Ryan noticed the class of 2014 hadn’t yet assembled in their tuition groups and he still had some time left before he was required to join his peers. Squirming from the heat and feeling thirsty, his eyes settled on the golden arches of McDonalds, and with a determined gait, he made a beeline into the Place du Marché and the fast-food outlet.
Swallowing the last dregs of a fizzy boisson, he pushed open the door from the air conditioned store and caught a glimpse of his parents and grandparents eagerly searching the crowd for their son. He had to hurry. The class groups were being called to assemble and he knew his parents would want to have a few moments with him before the ceremony began.
Uncomfortable wooden benches adorned the Covered Market’s ornate interior floor space in regimented rows, while nervous graduates bustled to find their seats among classmates and in the correct tuition groups. Interspersed among the young scholars were proud parents and relatives keeping track of their progeny and ready to lavish unrestrained applause upon their young at the appropriate time as they accepted their celebrated High School Diplomas. Ryan found a seat on a crowded bench with other graduating students towards the back of the gathering, halfheartedly listening to the hubbub of names and distinctions being broadcast across the waiting school leavers from the official podium situated at the front of the audience.
His mind drifted back to the statue of Freddie Mercury, and it seemed the audacious deceased entertainer was inviting the young boy to think beyond himself and aim for the impossible. He scanned the crowd until his eyes settled on the familiar face of his father watching the podium at the head of the proceedings. Not-so-subtle hints over the past few months had alerted Ryan to his father’s expectation. It seemed he was being groomed to take over the leadership of the family farm, or distinguish himself further by attending Switzerland’s prestigious École Polytechnique Fédérale de Lausanne (EPFL) in life sciences... more study! Ryan’s fractured thoughts began to crowd out reason and his shoulders bent forward under the weight of family expectation. In an attempt to shrug off the oppression, Ryan momentarily turned in his seat away from the podium and glanced towards the back of the mammoth structure with his eyes riveted on the rear view of the frozen pose of Freddie Mercury.
“3M12!”
The announcement for his class boomed across the sea of faces from the official podium, forcing Ryan to refocus, then in a pack movement, the teens sharing his wooden bench began to stand and move forward towards the administrator, taking possession of an empty bench facing the official party.
*~*~*~*
Chapter 6
A murmur erupted over the vast audience, taking the opportunity to exercise restrained vocal cords with a close by neighbour while a new class group found their seats in front of the official podium. Ryan, intent on taking the remaining aisle seat, patiently waited for his classmates to shimmy along a long wooden bench and make room for those left standing. Finally, the vacant bench space beckoned the young man to sit, but before he took his position, he glanced over the heads of the considerable crowd to the waterfront and Freddie Mercury’s animated image one last time, as if he had come to a crossroad in his life and was being forced down a path he was more than sure he didn’t want to tread. Lost in a fleeting moment and gazing nostalgically at Mercury’s pose, he hadn’t noticed the silence engulf the Covered Markets until he sensed the eyes of thousands boring into his solitary standing figure, waiting for him to take his seat. Feeling the weight of embarrassment, he quickly settled on the end of the bench, awkwardly staring at the floor and tussling with a growing sense of derision and the future direction that apparently was being chosen for him.
Ryan was an intelligent, high achieving student but lately and coincident with the new rock group he was listening to, restlessness had entered his heart. He’d become increasingly jaded with endless study and wanting instead to invest his mind in a culture of adoring crowds; lots of quick, easy money; and the exciting heavy beat of popular rock music. The more he gave homage to the heavy beat, the more enslaved he became, resonating and stirring his unpredictable teenage emotions into a frenzy of discontent.
With the spectators' attention refocused on the administrative party and no longer on the wayward teenager, the official proceedings recommenced, allowing Ryan to feel safe enough to avert his eyes from the floor and once again look up. It was extremely hot in the large structure with so many people crammed tightly around the official arena. Fidgeting as he waited for his name to be called, Ryan nervously ran his hands through his jet black hair, hoping to catch any cooling breeze wafting past. Sweat had begun to form on his brow, compounded by the heavy material of his black suit jacket and long trousers and intensified by the anxious tension.
A lone official voice boomed and reverberated across the multitude, droning on relentlessly and calling endless names that seemed to blur in Ryan’s hearing. The endless ceremony echoed around in his disinterested imagination and disrupted his thoughts. Then with the thunderous applause shivering in his distracted mind, he felt an abrupt nudge in his ribs from his neighbour alerting him to the fact he was being called.
“Ryan Tauxe!” the voice detonated again, sending a flush of embarrassment across Ryan’s face.
Ryan nervously stood to his feet amid thousands of eyes following his every move and walked tensely to the podium. Approaching the school officials in turn, he shook the hand of his director and then his headmaster. Clutching a large white envelope, he returned to his seat carrying his High School Diploma and stared blankly at the distinguished document, totally oblivious to the thundering applause. So this is it, he thought, turning over the diploma in his hands. Years of hard work culminating in a piece of paper and a couple of handshakes. Somehow he felt deflated and disconnected with his achievement, but in the flurry of nervousness he’d also forgotten about the beckoning image of Freddie Mercury. Even so, the harrowing emptiness and uncertainty gnawed relentlessly at his protesting stomach and kept him company throughout the remainder of the official ceremony.
*~*~*~*
Across from the Covered Market, a recalcitrant manager watche
d the crowded structure empty of its population, escaping and oozing from every open exit as well dressed teens made a beeline for the fast-food outlet. A homemade sign taped to the fast-food outlet’s glass entry door gave credence to the calculating mind waiting to relieve the teens of at least the price of a fizzy boisson in exchange for the use of the well preserved and extremely clean restrooms. The sign simply read: no purchase; no use of our restrooms.
By the time a multitude of teens had exchanged their finery for more relaxed and casual attire, the manager had made a quick and easy profit with very little outlay. Outside the small fast-food restaurant doors, parents waited to collect their progeny’s best clothes and in exchange, handed over a top quality homemade lunch contained within a proud Suisse-manufactured Rotho plastic lunch box. Now that the official part of the day was finally over, the graduating class of 2014 could gather together for the last time on the shores of Lac Léman and share the ultimate lunchbreak before throwing off the gawkiness of childhood and moving onto a high speed career in a competitive adult world. Some aspiring to higher education, while others desired a more hands-on apprenticeship in a multitude of expert Suisse industry.
With lunchbox in hand and intent on joining the graduating class at the foreshore Garden of Rouvenaz, Ryan stopped briefly at the water’s edge and stared up at the gaudy impression of Freddie Mercury once again. As gaping tourists joined Ryan in rapturous idolatry and worshiped at the monument to the famous singer, somehow the hollow uneasiness amplified in Ryan’s imagination. He stood motionless, staring at the statue’s intense face. The sculptor had seen through Mercury’s facade, capturing the flamboyance and the hidden pain, freezing the revelation and exposing the tyranny of the statue's deceiving pose. Silently pleading with the sculpture and hoping to uncover the secret, elusive road to success, Ryan disappointedly averted his eyes from the graven image, more confused and hollow than ever and despondently walked away down the Quai de la Rouvenaz towards Clarens.
Dodging in and out of half constructed stalls, building tradespeople and a gathering throng of potential jazz festival attendees, Ryan’s melancholy mood abruptly changed as his attention diverted to a group of young people gathered near the bandstand. Enthralled by the mix of girls and guys laughing together and sitting on the manicured green grass of the Garden of Rouvenaz, Ryan considered he would be the envy of his friends when he disclosed the position and the benefits of working at this year’s jazz festival.
A lonesome steaming drawl pierced the early afternoon bustle and reverberated off the stately centuries-old architecture expertly crafted around the foreshores of the spectacular Montreux Riviera. La Suisse effortlessly powered away from the CGN’s landing at the port of Montreux, its paddle wheels dipping and swishing into the pristine aqua blue mood of Lac Léman as it made way effortlessly toward the Château de Chillon some five kilometres away. The sound of chuffing steam engines powering the Suisse icon momentarily caught Ryan’s eye and touched a wistful nerve as it gracefully gathered speed, defiantly ordering ambivalent snow white swans, squawking aggressively, from its determined path.
Ryan had strolled the Quai de la Rouvenaz and pondered Lac Léman many thousands of times in his short teenage life, but with the growing excitement of his news, it was like he was seeing its beauty for the first time. He ceased his sauntering amble in the middle of the path, causing annoyed pedestrians to veer around him, avoiding a collision while Ryan considered the lake shore. The distant blue hazy outline of the majestic Alps appeared to rise up sheer from the water’s edge and stood guard over the elegant lake and its people, while the distant La Suisse seemed to pose in the stunning scenery like a precious jewel in a noble woman’s crown, glistening in the perfect summer day and giving Ryan the first embryonic glimmering hint of hope.
The familiar voice of Ryan’s best friend, Samuel, wafted across from the nearby gathering and shook him from his wonder. “Ryan, come on! We're waiting for you, daydreamer!”
Recognising familiar faces from his childhood class and realising he had something to brag to his friends about gave him a much needed boost, swiftly forgetting his musings and leaving the Quai de la Rouvenaz in a concerted effort to join the small huddle settled on the Garden of Rouvenaz’s grass. He had almost closed the gap to his school friends when he noticed the petite figure of Delphine among the group and suddenly his tongue tied and his mouth dried up.
She smiled directly at him and stunned him silent with her soft greeting, “Hi, Ryan.”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 7
The relaxed and casually attired teenagers followed Ryan’s approach and a giggle erupted among the girls, noticing Ryan’s sudden and awkward silence at Delphine’s greeting. There were no secrets to Ryan’s admiration for Delphine, but Guillaume, Delphine’s older brother, had made sure Ryan’s admirations remained at a distance.
Before Ryan nervously answered Delphine’s greeting, he glanced around the small celebrating groups scattered around the garden’s grassed area, obviously searching for someone in particular. “H...hi, Delphine! Where’s your brother, and why wasn’t he there at the graduation ceremony?” Ryan stuttered.
Both he and Delphine understood the gravity of his question. Delphine smiled a cheeky grin and then glanced at her girlfriends, aware her information would be more than welcome. “He’s been conscripted already and left a week ago to perform his military service, but the army wouldn’t give him permission to attend the graduation ceremony. He did graduate though,” Delphine admitted protectively.
Ryan stared at the brown-eyed beauty and tried to avert his eyes, but he was drawn ever deeper into her adoring gaze and indulged in the alluring lines of her perfect features. Every Suisse male, nineteen years old, was conscripted into the Suisse military for training and service, but being conscripted was the last thing on Ryan’s preoccupied mind and for the moment, conscription was working for him. After processing Delphine’s unexpected message, Ryan’s demeanour relaxed immediately while she patted an empty space beside her on the grass. With the rest of the group gladly expanding their boundary and making room for him in their circle, Ryan settled in. But he couldn’t relax, still expecting Guillaume’s appearance and reprimand at any moment, continually glancing at the surrounds nervously, preparing to move in an instant and avert an unwanted berating from the lovely Delphine’s minder. Satisfied his nemesis was nowhere in sight, Ryan began to settle in and enjoyed being close enough to Delphine to indulge in her perfume and drown in her tantalising smile.
Wanting to draw Ryan’s attention back to the group and sensing he had a story to tell, Samuel, his best friend, laid down the opportunity for Ryan to impress the circle. “So, Ryan, what are your plans for this summer break?” Sammy casually asked, diverting Ryan’s attention away from Delphine and their two-person huddle.
Finally hearing the question he had been waiting for, Ryan’s face reddened with anticipation and he smiled so big he almost split in two. “I... have a job at the jazz festival starting tomorrow and I can’t wait! I get to see any performance I like and there will be some really cool bands, too! Who knows, maybe I will get to rub shoulders with some of the big name musicians,” Ryan’s voice squeaked unintentionally but his eyes sparkled as he contemplated his dream and knowing he had made an indelible effect on the impressionable Delphine sitting so close beside him.
“What about your parents?” Sammy suddenly interjected, knowing the Tauxe’s objection to the tenuous music emanating from the Auditorium Stravinski.
Ryan’s expression clouded and his face flushed red in embarrassment as Sammy’s question stole the glory from his tale. Glancing sideways at Delphine’s adoring gaze and trying to regain some of his dignity, Ryan’s body language conveyed annoyance to his friend while trying not to lose face in front of Delphine and the others. “I admit, previous years my parents wouldn’t let me go, but now that I am eighteen they can’t stop me. I’ve got two weeks work during the festival on offer and man, am I going to
take it!” Ryan chafed defiantly.
The two friends locked eyes across the group for a moment, Sammy sensing Ryan was in no mood for what his parents held in esteem, particularly when he was attempting to impress Delphine. Sammy noticed Ryan’s mouth moving and it took him a moment to connect the movement of his lips with the question he’d asked.
"What have you got planned then, Sammy?” Ryan quizzed, attempting to redirect the heat off himself.
Sammy shifted on the spot and he knew Ryan would be looking for a chance to regain some of the ground he’d inadvertently lost with Delphine at Sammy’s innocent question. “I’m going to the jazz festival too, but in another way, and I am sure we will cross paths sometime on the quays. In fact, I’m joining YWAM, a Christian group, and we will be here throughout the festival to share our faith with passersby,” Samuel answered matter-of-factly, his brown eyes twinkling behind his glasses and baiting Ryan, but expecting the usual response when he shared his plan.
“Y-who?” Ryan teased.
“YWAM. It stands for Youth With A Mission.”
“Yeah, whatever rattles your cowbell, Sammy,” Ryan riposted ironically, causing Delphine and the other girls to giggle. Ryan’s ego exploded with exhilaration at the girls' laughing response to his sarcastic reply, but at the same time he felt sorry for belittling his best friend with such a cheap shot.
Sammy was a tall, shaggy, brown-haired eighteen-year-old with a placid temperament and apparently not easily offended, even if he was persecuted or ridiculed for his stance. Ryan’s comment was no different to anyone else’s and it bounced off Sammy like a speeding soccer ball colliding with a goal post. Samuel didn’t appear to be the hero type, but finding Jesus a little over two years ago and keen to share Him with anyone who would listen, he’d never felt ashamed, hidden his faith or backed away from disclosing it.