Page 147 of Down Beat
FIFTY-TWO
Tabitha
“Wish You Were Here” – Pink Floyd
The tour ended three months ago. I put Kendall in charge of my Facebook page the day they wrapped up, neglecting my profile and staying off all other social media so that I could avoid any news of what they’re doing now.
How the album launch went.
If he tried again.
His name is banned in our apartment, the space my safe haven from the stress that follows me everywhere day to day. I don’t listen to the radio. I’m careful not to deviate from my saved playlists in Spotify. I turn my head when I pass the magazine rack in the stores.
The closest I came was the start of one of their songs playing on the streamed radio that gets piped through the local convenience store. I set my purchases down on the nearest shelf and walked out.
It’s not that I want to avoid him, it’s that I need to. I kept in touch with Toby after his phone call, living the tour vicariously through his texts and calls. The bitter irony was, by the time I gave in and agreed to talk with Rey, he didn’t want to talk to me.
He broke down mid show, so Toby tells me. Snapped and walked out. They had to fight to get him to play the final concerts, and even then I’m told they had to refund several hundred tickets for people who complained about the sub-standard performance and the crude things he was saying between sets.
Strangely enough, your fans don’t enjoy being told they’re a bunch of demanding sheep.
I screwed up. I did what I thought was right, and I totally let him down. He didn’t find a reason to fight. He found a reason to give up.
I completely misjudged him.
He told me that he wanted change, and that made me think that all Rey needed was a push in the right direction. After all, when you lose the thing you love, isn’t that supposed to give you incentive to fight for it?
I guess not when your mind is as fractured and incomplete as his.
It took a week before I could look at my violin after that news, another five or so days before I could string together more than a few bars. After all, how could I blissfully continue to play the very thing that had cemented my decision to walk away from Rey? I felt like a traitor loving the instrument knowing what that had done to him. But piece-by-piece, day-by-day I found that fighting girl who brought me to this point in life, and I managed to get two songs composed.
Two songs that give me hope that perhaps, just maybe, I can combine my classical training with a more modern twist and create something new and catchy.
“I’m going out tonight with Sarah from college, remember?”
A least Kendall seems to have her shit together. She slowly edges herself back into more of a social life, not letting my hermit lifestyle dictate hers.
“I haven’t forgotten. Are you having dinner before you go?”
“Probably not.” She flits through the living room, a dress slung over her arm. “I think I’ll grab something on my way to hers if that’s okay.”
“Yeah. No worries.” I’ll probably consume my staple diet of cereal and head to bed early to try and bleed music.
“Oh, I forgot.” She ditches the dress over the back of the armchair, and then dives into her purse. “I cleaned out the mailbox today and there was something for you.”
“Yeah?” Another reminder for my overdue credit card, no doubt.
Kendall Frisbees the envelope onto my lap, retrieving her dress before she disappears to get ready. I lift the formal-looking correspondence, and check out the sender’s address.
BMM
Who the hell is BMM?
The whine of the hairdryer starts down the hall as I slip my thumb under the lip and rip it open. A single folded sheet resides inside, and its only when I pull it out that the weight of the paper seems odd. I fold it out, my stomach knotting at the clearly music-orientated logo at the top, and then threatening to flip in on itself when I see the extra weight was a check.
What the hell?
I seriously can’t breathe. The empty envelope tumbles to the floor as I rise and hustle to the cracked window for some fresh air. The figure on the check can’t be right. It has way too many digits before the decimal point. Way too many.