Life Behind A Glass

2. Talent?

I have realized after years in desolation that partly, I was living this kind of life, because I just wanted my pain to be acknowledged. I wanted to hold the right to be mad at my life, at God, at Mike and his gang. I was mad to realize that Drew was right, that perhaps there was another way for me to move forward.

Living in a slum never brought good thing in my life. Dad went in and out of jail every month for all the petty crimes he did just because he was lazy to work his ass off and Mom was always drunk and depressed for as long as I could remember. I more or less was a child of the street. I wanted to go out every time I was at home. I survived on the street. I felt liberated on the street. That was my real home. I did everything I could not to end up like my parents by working at night and early morning to support my high school tuition. That involved cleaning up people's vomit at the back of a club outside my housing complex and rummaging garbage can to find something that I could use or sell. Until, I found it, my long undiscovered talent. It was vividly imprinted on my memory although it happened years ago.

On a one hot and humid afternoon six years ago, Abel, the only friend I had who was not from that slum, brought his guitar and I was privileged to try it. I traced the guitar sleek and shiny body with my forefinger, sensing the strong yet delicate exterior of it. The first strum I made was C major as how Abel showed me. The feeling of the strings brushing my fingers was liberating. Since then, I couldn't take my mind off of it.

My good luck didn't stop there. Abel said to me few weeks after that, "Jim, I'm getting a new one. If you want, I could sell it to you real cheap." That sentence enlightened the invisible bridge for me to cross over to the realm of freedom.

I agreed instantly and that guitar became my treasured possession. I practiced, asked Abel to teach me and practiced again in any time I could squeeze out in between my study and work. I had to admit that my grades dropped after that, but I couldn't care less. When Abel told me that his school was having audition and that I should join, my dream was just a step away. With heaved chest, trembling hands and stupid grin, I nodded.

"If your hands are trembling, don't think you could ever get in, Jim," Abel replied as he walked away without even looking back. But I knew he was smiling too.

I was able to dream of a wonderful path ahead of me, as far as possible from where I came from, when Mr. Williams said after my audition, "You deserve that scholarship. I've never seen anyone like you in almost twenty years. It's unpolished but rare talent, son. Combine with your composing skill, I can guarantee your bright future. I'll be privileged to have you in my class and see how you'll hone your skill years from now." That sentence echoed in my head almost every night for few months even after that incident happened.