I jolted awake from my catnap as footsteps came thundering down the stairs. I looked at my watch and cursed, I'd dozed off and had about 10 minutes to get to my job half an hour away. I was going to get fired, again.
When the hell did I get here?
A couple of years ago all I wanted out of my life was to share what I had with anybody I could, to share my love of Music, of electricity. Somehow I ended up in my own personal Hell. It'd all started (or ended?) with Mary, whose cacophonous footsteps shattered my slumber. All she seemed to want this time was just to see if I was still asleep, which pretty much answered itself. Like a child who throws stones into a pond to see if it ripples.
Long ago she gave me the Ultimatum to find a job or sell my guitar, seeing as how I'd be paying rent to stay with her from now on, she wasn't taking No for an answer, and how it was for my own good. In a move not very carefully worded to seem like an afterthought she wanted payment that very week. I hadn't even worked anywhere before. Who'd hire me? I pawned my dreams and joined the working world.
She wasn't even worth the effort to despise anymore. I picked up the phone and prepared to call in sick. Or rather I would have if it hadn't died on me. Piece of junk I got cheaply from Fred, the drummer from my ex-band who kicked me out when their guitarist wasn't able to play anymore. He was the only one who remotely treated me like he actually knew me, after what happened.
I hear they still practice in the same garage, every Saturday, like we always did. I was saving for a new guitar, a better one, but at the rate I was going I'd get one of those cheap mass-produced ones in about 10 years. Having to pay rent to Mary made things worse. At that rate I might as well be dead, no music meant no soul. At this point, all I had was my Discman.
how long am I gonna can stand
with my head stuck under the sand
I start before I can stop
before I see things the right way up
Chris eased my thoughts, calmed my mind. Should I risk a few seconds on my cell? I did, but I might as well have not called - no one was there yet. There was still time. Work as usual was one disaster after another. I didn't have a choice, it paid the best out of all the places I'd been. Could maybe cut it down to 8 years. I set out to another day of drudgery and despair that others called work.
I don't know what it was that snapped me out of my brief, but always satisfying reverie. Whatever it was, I snapped out of it just in time to hear my cell-that-was-only-to-be-used-in-emergencies-and-nothing-else-under-pain-of-death-and-torture ring, it was Fred. He excitedly jabbered on about a gig that the old band had finally gotten through friends of friends, and that they were going to be playing at The Jungle, and would I like to play with them for old times sake?
My jaw dropped for all of two seconds before I realised I didn't have a guitar. My chance of a lifetime was finally here and I didn't have a fuckin' guitar. I thought he knew that. Asshole, I thought to myself, and let him know in not so civil terms. He returned the favour and hung up. I felt like kicking something. It hung over me for the rest of the day, which thankfully passed quickly. It's amazing how quickly things pass when your mind is focused elsewhere.
I was such an idiot. It wouldn't have been difficult to just borrow a guitar. I'd blown it. I sat down heavily on the couch. I must have seemed even more depressed than usual since even Mary sat down next to me, concerned for my well-being. There wasn't a point to keeping it from her, so I told her everything. It was at this point that it was her turn to look shattered.
I might not like her much, now, but she was still my mother. I asked her what was wrong.
As it turned out all that nagging and scolding was her way of striking back against my Music. She hated it, and tried to find a way to take it away from me. She eventually succeeded, but now that she saw the end result and what it did to me she could bear it no longer. I listened to her, and try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to despise her. Not this time. I hestitated, and embraced her as one might embrace an old friend unseen for years.
She started to sob. I went to bed, and slept more soundly than I had in ages. The next day was a Saturday. I woke up to see a note on my bedside table. It was from Mary. About how sorry she was for doing what she did to me, etc, etc, and how she hoped it would be enough... What was enough? I looked back at my table and saw a sum of money. Enough to buy my guitar back...
An hour later, I held her in my hands again. My beloved. I walked the familiar route to the garage, scarcely believing that everything would be as it was, that finally these fingers would fly, that electricity would flow once more. Now my only worry was that Fred would hate me for what I'd said to him. But as I turned the corner onto that familar driveway, hearing the comfortable strains of Music, I learned my worries were for nought. Fred and the rest greeted me like an old friend, and howled with delight at the sight of my instrument.
I took my place over by the grease stain on the floor, to the left of the tool cupboard, instinctively swinging to avoid the stack of hubcaps left lying in my path. The drummer knocked his sticks together, and we launched into the beginnings of our favourite song. I settled back in the hole, it was like I'd never left.
I was back.
The crowd at The Jungle threatened to suffocate. I honestly hadn't expected that many. They milled about, almost aimlessly, as the band tuned their instruments for the third time that evening. Couldn't blame them for wanting it to be perfect. Occasionally one of the people in the crowd gestured in our direction, from the look on their faces they were getting restless.
Finally we were ready. As the lights went out, so did the surrounding din. I shut my eyes, and prayed to all the rock gods I knew... this was it, this was what I'd always lived for. What I'd always been waiting for. My dream.
The bassist's fingers danced across his strings, as the lights flared. The drummer's arms whirled and beat out their tune. The crowd cheered appreciatively, and then went insane as I began my piece. My hands moved on their own, and I marveled at how the rest of the band were lost in their trance, dedicated devotees of the rock deities.
This was it. The culmination of all I'd gone through in my life, it'd all led up to this point. All I wanted. All I needed.
Pure magic.
