I wake up in the morning with a quite expected headache. As I struggle to get up and crawl out of my sheet shelter, the events of the previous night slowly resurface and lose their blur. It could have been worse, really. Emily shared her bright future, all our crushes got resolved, I just need to question Flori if that thing with her neighbour turned out well...
And then that thing with double messages on my phone. I was too tired to realize that it was just someone holding my phone and sending messages to me. Yes, someone in our group likes me, and I might even know who exactly (*cough* Gaspard *cough*).
I mean, who elsecan it be? He's the only person who talks to me regularly, and I may even remember him participating in our druk nonsense yesterday. I can just go right now and knock on his door and tell him that he doesn't need to hide it. It's not like I'm 100% sure I can return whatever he feels back, but I know exactly how bad it is to hold back an important confession. He's a good friend, after all, and it's not his fault that romance and I come together like toothpaste and orange juice. He deserves to know, at least.
But the moment I decide to do it, I also become aware that I'm terribly late for a lesson with Mika, and forget about all that for a while.
I intentionally keep the phone off and take an exceedingly long shower, until I feel alive and human. I don't want him to see me look terrible again!
But my coach, apparently, is fully aware of what's happening, 'cause when I get all the delayed messages from him, it looks like this:
<Is everything that bad?
And then, an hour later:
<It is... Well take your time. Call me when you're ready
Quickly correcting himself, by which I understand he doesn't really count on seeing me today:
<*if
A few minutes after that he adds, though:
<But if you make it here, coffee and aspirin is on me!
Judging by my previous messages (ooh, awkward!), he must have figured out what I was doing last night, so there's nothing strange.
I'm on my way to the studio when karma decides that I feel way too good for this morning, and brings all the crap my life lacked these days.
I get a late message from Flori. She needs only 3 words to describe the situation:
>I hate you.
I guess her crush did not respond well to her confession. Well, she has all the rights to be mad at me, really.
I try to reply "Sorry" (what else can I say?!), but the message won't send - I got blocked. So she doesn't need my apologies, she just wants me to stay away from her. Fair enough.
Of course, that's not the end, for my karma is very rich on troubles today - Andrea sends me her report of comments and tweets about my performance. "Brace yourself", she adds. I scroll through them briefly, and catch a lot of "awful", "distracting", "off tune", some "why is she still here". In my hungover and already shaken state of mind, a new pot of molten iron heats up my belly - this time it actually hurts to read, I tried my best!
I mean, even Mika told me I wasn't very good on Saturday, despite the fact that I practiced more than I ever did. Mika gave me one more chance, but if that was the best I'm capable of, what else can I give? Is there any reason for them to keep me on the show?
And what's more important - if I quit the Voice now, where do I go?
I try not think about it, but there's nothing I can hide from Mika, for the first remark he gives me when he meets me by the subway station is:
- Nope, don't even try, you still look like crap. And I'm not talking that you're a fucking alcoholic, there's something that bothers you.
He looks so ordinary in his light trench coat and fedora I hardly recognized him without my contact lenses on. If he weren't towering above everyone like freaking Tour Eiffel, he could easily blend in the crowd. And he smells like coffee and cinnamon, probably because I see a paper cup in his hands, which he gives me after we hug each other. As promised, it also has a single white pill on top (works for me every time, he explains then).
- So what's up? – he asks.
- Have you tried reading comments? – I shrug, and he nods in understanding:
- Oh, that's what it is. Yeah. I wanted to talk about it too.
Mika looks at his watch, then ponders for a second, looking at my coffee cup.
- Have you eaten? That's what I thought. Let's go, I know a place that kinda looks like the one you showed me in Cannes. I think you're going to like it.
***
And he was right. The place he introduces me to is probably the coziest that I've ever seen.'Chez soeur' is a light-filled glassed terrace, painted in soft blue and white colors, and every detail of the decoration makes you feel home - pillows on seats, flowers everywhere, postcards and old photos on walls, light garlands and huge light bulbs, hanging from the ceiling on wires. And that smell of coffee beans and cinnamon - that's where it came from. I can already feel it soak into my clothes.
- Gosh, - I sigh, - I want to live here.
And the spiral stairs on the other side of the hall that go up the attic tell me that someone lucky is living right above it.
- These places are like rare vinyls, - Mika comments, while we take a place at the table next to the high panoramic window, - I look for them everywhere I go, and trust me, they're actually hard to find. The nearest one will be far in Brighton.
A waitress brings a little candle in a porcelain bowl and a menu, handwritten on a brown, raw paper.
- Bonjour, monsieur Mika, - she greets him, gives me a respectful nod and goes away.
- They know you here, huh, - I chuckle.
- Well it's five minutes away from the studio, what do you think! - Mika laughs.
When we place our order, our waiters suddenly tells me with a smile:
- Can I just say that my daughter is your huge fan. She even wrote you a letter.
She winks at Mika. Now I understand how it had its way to me.
- Oh, her name is Anastasie, right? - I grin back widely, - I've read the letter, it had me in tears. She's wonderful. I would love to see her.
- She's returning from school any minute, - the waitress says then, - I don't think you two will need introductions.
***
No matter how we try to postpone the unpleasant conversation, we have to come to it eventually.
- It was my fault, - Mika says, - Maybe I was too ambitious to give you such a hard piece, maybe it wasn't just something you need to perform. I think it's both. Your strength isn't your technique but your personality, and hiding it with all those visuals and a song that's not that expressive was a mistake. This time will be different.
- They have an idea?
- No. Castel is confused, in fact. I mean, the guy worked with Cirque du Soleil, relying on visuals might be his usual strategy. So he gave us more freedom this time, - he sighs, - It should be something simple, but full of emotions. No ballads, though, it's a cheap trick.
And since I have nothing to suggest for now, he moves on to another important thing:
- I also have to - and really wish I didn't have to - recommend you to start thinking on a plan B. No matter how hard I want you to win, my vote is only 1/3 of that of the spectators. Do you have any idea what are you going to do if it ends?
- Well, yeah, you asked it already.
- That was two weeks ago. We're one step closer to the end now. And the last time I checked, you haven't updated your channel yet.
- I was busy!
- Or you just don't think it's going to work anymore.
Very observant, as always. Maybe that plan with a channel wasn't a good idea in the first place. Everything seemed easy when I dreamed about it, but now I'm not that sure. So I say it as it is:
- To be honest, I don't feel skilled to begin a solo career at all.
- You do? So what do you need then?
- I need... - the reason of my worry suddenly comes to mind, and I wonder why I haven't thought about it before, - Ok, look. I was raised thinking that education is a path to a good life. The only path. Maybe that's it.
- Oh, so you lack theoretical background, that's what it is?
- Yeah.
- And what's the problem? Why don't you try studying music, then?
I shrug.
- But who's going to let me study? I haven't taken a single music class!
- So what? - Mika frowns, - Have you even tried? I'm serious, you do want to create music and sing all your life, right?
- Right.
- Well... - he lifts an eyebrow and gives me a croooked grin, - As far as I know, International Conservatory of Music is currently open for application.
And I still have all the needed documents with me.
- Are you sure? - I still hesitate a bit, - Do you think I have a chance?
- Well, it won't kill you if you try, - he shrugs, - I don't want you to drop music once the show is over.
- Deal, then, - I shrug again, - I'll get into it as soon as I have the time.
I say it, and an unpleasant thought crawls into my mind - why does Mika insist so hard that I think about "plan B"? Is he already sure that I'm not making it to the Finals?
//Holy shit, the story has 10k+ views already! I bet half of it is probably me revising and editing :D but wow, that's a number I haven't even imagine!
So if you're still here, thank you!
And I just wanted to tell you that apparently, there's another Mika/Voice story named "Mika Addiction" by mikalolaemily (sorry I don't know how to link). It takes a completely different approach on the character and relationships with Mika, and I think it's pretty well-written. So if you're into angst and drama, be sure to check it out!