Music To My Soul

Ch. 2

Timothy:

" You got super lucky dude! This Vlad guy sounds like a total life saver." 

" He is bro, and the best part, he isn't a morning person, so no more music getting blasted after a study cram session all night." 

" Still stings about Tiffany thought. How you holding up on all that?" 

" Fuck her, dude. I'm not letting it bug me. I got work and school to focus on. Now, you gonna come over tonight to study?" 

" Totes, my dude. Gotta dash. Later, Tim." 

" Later, Greg." 

I watched my best friend Greg bolt off for class, his mess of beach blonde curls bouncing in a mess under his hat. He was the nicest guy, but he was too focused on school to even think of a girlfriend, so him feeling for me on my break up was just a check in on me, and not her. I went to class, and the next four hours flew by, and before I knew it, it was night time, and it was finally time for my last class. I loved this one, because it was just me and my music professor. Professor Finley is a music teacher at my school, and he tutors me in my piano lessons, so one day I can go pro and preform on a stage with a vocalist. I found him waiting outside the music hall, and he looked depressed. 

" Hey, Professor. how you doing?" 

" Oh, Tim, sorry. I got sidetracked. Listen, we don't have lessons tonight. My daughter is in the hospital. She was out jogging and got mauled by a wild dog." 

" Oh my, is she gonna be ok?" 

" I pray so. They said she lost a lot of blood, so here's to hoping. You have a good night, Tim." 

" You try to as well, sir. I hope she gets better soon." 

" Thank you." 

He left without another word, and I went home, walking back because I didn't live far. The dog must've been a stray gone feral. Poor Janet. I knew her from her visits to the collage. She was a sweetheart. I hope she'll be ok. I get back to the apartment, and I hear the faint sounds of Sinatra playing from behind the door. I open it, and found Vlad in the kitchenette, Greg on the couch with a beer, and the smell of homemade stew filled the apartment. 

" Welcome home. I made you gentlemen dinner, seeing as I already ate. How was class?" 

" Wonderful, but my piano lessons were canceled. Thanks for cooking, dude. You didn't have to." 

" No, but it is the least I can do. You did give me a place to stay, after all. Here, it is a Romanian specialty." 

Vlad puts two bowls on the coffee table, and sits down with a small glass of wine in the only chair in the entire apartment. I sit down on the couch, my bag thudding to the floor as I dug into the food, grateful it wasn't ramen or take out. It tasted amazing, and to say it was filling is an understatement. 

" Yo, this is amazing, dude. What is this?" 

" Turnip stew. It's a common dish from my homeland, and I know it feeds well. You kids study and enjoy the stew. I'm going to go out and look for work." 

Vlad went to his room, grabbed his hoodie, shut the door, then left with his key on his necklace.

" Dude, you fucking scored! I got here, and we got to talking a small bit, and he super chill. He even said if we needed help in history, he'd be willing to do so, having a major in it and all. He apparently had been making food since he finished settling in. If this is what we can expect, then dude, you win." 

" I know, he's so fuckin' cool! Reminds me of the old school hardcore punks from the late 80's. How old do you think he is?" 

" I asked him that, and he said he's in his late 30's. 38 if I remember right. He is super cool dude. Now, let's study while we got the ambition to do so."

" Too true." 

As we studied, I couldn't help but feel happy. I got a good friend, a new roommate who was a good person, they got along swimmingly, and no trace of anything fucking weird like it had been with Tiffany. All was great in the neighborhood. After an hour, Vlad came back with a stack of applications, and a piece of paper with a list of websites. 

" Damn, where did you get all those?" 

" Mostly nightclubs looking for security. I prefer night shift, so it works. What subject you guys on?" 

" Music theory. We actually need to do a report on a specific individual, but neither of us can even try to butcher her name." 

" Allow me to help. Where's the name?" 

I pointed it out, and he gave a small chuckle. 

" She's Romanian, like myself. Her name is pronounced Esmeralda Athanasiu-Gardeev. From what I understand, she was a beautiful pianist." 

" That's why it looked scary. No offence, but Slavic names are damn near impossible to say." 

Vlad laughed, and I watched him get up to the cabinet to make tea. 

" True, we are Slavic in nature, but Moldovia, Romania, and Hungary actually derive our dialect from Latin, so with the accent, I could see how it gets complicated. And trust me, it would take a lot more than a few barbless words to upset me. I'm making some chamomile tea, would you two like some to soothe the burn from study?" 

" Yes, please." 

I collapse back onto the couch a bit deeper, as does Greg, and we both look ready to scream and call it quits. 

" You both look burnt out. Give yourselves a break. No need to work yourselves this hard. It is almost 1am, after all." 

I looked at the clock, and sure enough, it was that late, and I had a class to prep for Monday. Shit.

" So, Tim, you said you work at a school teaching music to kids. What school?" 

" St. Catharine's. It's a Catholic private school that's working with my collage to allow me to have teaching be a paid version of field experience so I can get my degree faster. I hate Catholics, but hot damn does it pay better than public school." 

" Why do you show them such bile?"

" I don't know about you, but how can I support their ideology if its so full of hypocrisy and hate, ya know? Seems a bit ass backwards to me."

" Well said, my friend. I too have a fevered hatred of them, hence why I moved. I had a neighbor who refused to just let me be, so I left it all behind." 

" Good lord. See, this is why I'm firmly in the camp of agnostic. I don't answer to a god, but I don't mind sending a bit of good or bad vibes if it means the desired results get done faster." 

" The world needs more folks like you, Tim. Here boys, drink up. I never got to ask, but how old are you? You barely look 18." 

" Heh, nah, I'm 23 dude. The baby face is just good genes from my Momma." 

" Well then, color me surprised. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to fill out, and I refuse to shirk my responsibilities. Good night, gentlemen." 

" Night, dude." 

" Later, Vlad." 

He went into his room, locking the door, and the sounds of smooth jazz faintly came from behind the door. If this is how things are going to be, then this shouldn't be a problem.