Broken String

CLVII

"Eddy." John says and he lets go of the railing and sits on his haunches so they're face to face. "Ow. Imma regret this in a second. But Eddy, I'm a firm believer in being yourself. Not what anyone else expects you to be. And for the record, I have faith in you building a career for yourself just fine."
Eddy is quiet for a long moment. It's gotten hot by now, proper hot, the sun beating down hard from above. It doesn't care about what kind of career he has. It never has. It's only him. And maybe Brett. Oh, and his mum. As long as he's successful, that is. The rest of the world couldn't give a flying toss what he does with his life, could it?
"But not as a soloist." he says quietly. "Especially not now, after all this."
John's little sigh makes him look up and take notice.
"Eddy..." John starts. "Look. Like I said, I saw something in you that I recognised, way back when. Talent. Sure. Musicality. Sure. But those are only parts of the equation. It takes a certain type of person to be a soloist, to always be on the move, to live out of a suitcase. Family or home life are hard. At night you're alone in a strange hotel room. It took me a long time to realise that that simply wasn't me. And that that had nothing to do with how hard I'd work or how much talent I have."
Eddy blinks and eyes his mentor, who groans and gets up stiffly.
"More running for me." John mumbles as his words still swirl around them, soaking Eddy like the rays of the sun.
He has never thought of it that way. His focus has been only on the soloist thing for years now. For himself. To prove to his mum that he was right to go into music. But would he want to? Always alone? No Brett, even?
He knows the answer already because it resounds in his soul before his conscious mind has a chance to even form the word.
"Wow." he breathes as something inside of him rearranges itself.
"What, that I need more running?" John quips kindly.
Eddy grins and shakes his head.
"You and me both. No, John. Just that I hear you. Thank you. Really."
John shrugs as he squints against the sun. He's leaning against the railing, long slender fingers, violinist's fingers splayed over it. 
"Don't mention it. It's just the conversation I wish someone had had with me when I was your age. The thing is, Eddy, at the con there's so many expectations and they only seem to go in one direction. Often it feels like only soloist is success, going to Europe and being in one of the main orchestras is success, and everything else you could possibly do in music is a failure. I don't agree, obviously."
"I want to live a big life." Eddy blurts out suddenly, again, his conscious mind not even involved. "Um. Somehow."
A nod, paternal, loving almost. Kind eyes that gaze through squint, not condescending, never condescending.
"I'm absolutely positive you will. You'll just have to forge your own path. Not the con's, not your mum's, but your own one."

Eddy nods and looks away to the left, over the park with the bench he can't see from here where he had... that moment with Brett, just the other day. He knows his cheeks are colouring at the thought. It's a good thing that John can't read minds.
"I'll try." he says then. "First I have to walk again, then play again. I guess it'll take some time."
John smiles.
"Well, it's looking promising. You're going to keep me updated?"
"I will." Eddy nods. "I want my path to be with Brett."
Eyebrows that raise slightly, a touch of amusement at the lips. 
"You've got it bad, huh?"
"Would you have left Mark behind?"
"No." John shakes. "Never. Like I said. You forge your path. I'm sure you'll work it out."