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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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When was the last time I felt like this? I wondered.
My hands shook slightly with nerves as I patted my aftershave gently around the sharp curve of my jaw down to my neck. The mirror didn't lie this evening, reminding me once again of just how handsome I looked tonight- the best I may have ever looked, if we were being honest.
This was simply due to the beautiful navy blue suit gifted to me from a man with taste. My father never missed. I wasn't sure how he got his hands on my exact tailored size, but I assumed Hendrix had something to do with it.
My fingers gently smoothed over the soft, crisp, rich material. I felt like a billionaire in it, something that was heavily assisting in containing my off the walls array of emotions coursing through me right now.
One moment I'd be excited, leaning in to the familiar thrill of performing in front of an audience that appreciated music as much as I did.
Then I remembered who'd be missing in that audience tonight, and my heart sunk all over again. "Chin up." I told my reflection, staring at a man I should recognize, but didn't.
When was the last time I did?
You're not the same person anymore.Atlas's words slipped into my racing mind, reminding me, and tethering me back to reality.
He was right. This person wasn't the same man driving his mother home that night from his last recital. He wasn't even the man who found himself across this same bathroom mirror, scrubbing waterproof lipstick off his skin with a women he didn't recognize in the room next door.
No, this was someone who had put more work into his craft these last few months, than he thought possible. I had fought damn hard for this career this last year, so I'd be damned if I held myself back now from something I knew I could do. Something I spent hundreds of hours in physical therapy to get back to, and something I refused to let go of then... So why let go now?
After all that work?
And all that damn cooking I did?
Yeah, no, I decided, fixing my tie. Even if they had to drag my out there, I was getting on that stage.
Hendrix seemed to feel the same, because she arrived about an hour before we were due to leave my place. This had to be one of the few occasions where she actually needed to be chauffeured, because access through the musicians back entrance at this showcase was limited to access cards that only the musicians and their security received.
Hendrix fought long and hard about getting her own card, but I reminded her she could just go through the front entrance like everybody else.
She ever so gracefully reminded me that she wasn't everybody else. And I retorted that in the eyes of The Company, she was.
