𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 → 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬 (𝐢)

fifty [s]

wednesday,
april 19th, 2018

SHAWN MENDES

"Coffee or tea?" Trinity calls from the kitchen area.

I'm about to answer her when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I lean forward to grab it, the screen displaying a number I don't recognise. I cautiously slide my thumb across the screen, answering the call.

"Hello?" I say.

"Hi there. Is this Shawn Mendes?" a male voice talks.

"Uh— yes. Who's calling?" I stand up from the couch and lock eyes with Trinity's confused ones.

"This is Andrew Gertler. I work at Island Records HQ in New York City, I happened to be at Monica's Diner recently when you performed there."

My eyes widen involuntarily and I quickly sit down on a bar stool. My pinky finger raises to my lips and I chew on my fingertip.

"Oh. Um— it's nice to talk with you. May I ask why you're calling me?" I reply.

"Of course. Well, before I had to leave for a business meeting I asked Monica who you were and she generously handed me your details. I just needed to call to talk to you because you are incredibly talented. I know this may be a bit of a shock, but I was wondering if you've ever thought about pursuing a musical career?"

My stomach drops and I shakily take a deep breath. I mean, of course I've thought about that, but I've kind of had my mind made up since I made the NYK team. This is just a spanner in the works, and it's already starting to confuse me.

"Huh? Oh! Well, yeah. Kind of. I mean— I attend UCLA and I study music as a course subject but recently I scored a spot on the new and upcoming Knicks basketball team," I explain, voice quavering, "so, that's sort of what I've had planned since."

"Mhm. I see. Well, congratulations on the Knicks. But listen, we'd love to get to know you more. Maybe set up an interview? Look, we don't need an answer right away. Just save this number on your phone. It's my work phone, I'll text you my email address. Sound good? Just get in touch if you're ever leaning toward music."

I make eye contact with Trinity once again. Her small hands hold her against the kitchen counter across from me. I can see the puzzled look of concern written all over her face.

"Yes. Okay. I'll do that," I eventually say, "thanks for your call."

"No problem. Best of luck."

"Thanks. You too. Bye."

I groan in frustration and throw my phone against the couch across the room. I bury my face in my hands and use all my strength to hold back tears. I don't even know why I am getting so worked up about this. I just don't know what to do now. I wouldn't know how to fully turn down an opportunity to test my limit with music, but I don't know if I could deny a professional basketball career either.

"Hey, hey. What was that all about?" Trinity asks me and I suddenly remember she's here.

I huff, "This dude from a record label just called me. Said he saw me perform at Mon's. He wants an interview with me."

"Woah, Shawn," Trinity chuckles, bewildered, "that's insane."

"I know," I whisper.

"So what's the problem?" she asks slowly.

"What's the problem?" I yell, standing up. I don't mean to scream at her, but I am so mindfucked right now. "Everything's the problem! How do I know what I wanna do? How can I reject either one of these opportunities? I don't even know what the fuck I want to use my life for and that's the fucking problem!"

The look on T's face cracks me. I break down crying, striding towards her and taking her in my arms. I profusely apologise against her shoulder, kissing her neck. I let my hot tears hit her smooth skin and she soothingly rubs my back.

"What am I supposed to do?" I sob against my girlfriend.

I hold on to her so desperately, as if hugging her would reward me with the right answer to my life altering question.