Mad Seasons [Abandoned Story]

18. All at the concert

He dropped me off in front of Conway Recording Studios at about 10:55 a.m. and kissed him full on the lips. But before I got out of the car, he grabbed a pen and a piece of paper that was stored in the glove compartment.

"I'll write down my phone number if you think you can come tomorrow. Leave me a message on the answering machine tonight or tomorrow. Here."

I took the piece of paper and humored him.

"Aren't you afraid I'll give it to someone?"

"No." he replied, with a smile.

"Wait."

I took his pen, which he still held in his hand, and wrote down my uncle's number, knowing he wouldn't mind."

"Here. Call me at night around midnight or a little after or even during the day, whenever you can. You leave a message on the machine."

I turned my head toward him, embarrassed.

"Sounds a little desperate, doesn't it?" I said before smiling.

He laughed.

"No. You just let loose just now.."

"Well, good for you then."

We smiled at each other and then he took the small piece of paper that I had written the phone number on. I then got out of the car before he called out to me and walked over to the rolled down window, leaning my arm on it.

"Call me even for no particular reason. ... I hope we'll see each other tomorrow."

"Okay. And me too." I replied, stretching a tender smile this time, like his.

He left a few seconds later. I pushed open the door and suddenly felt nervous about asking if it would be possible to go to the Cahuenga Pass. I dreaded the answer. And if you're wondering if calling my uncle's house in the night would make him angry... No. A few years ago, he had installed a second phone upstairs. My cousin had demanded that she have more privacy during her few phone conversations. Of course, he didn't give in. But as he had set up his office, he had then thought about the need to have a second line in the house, for his work.

The room in which I was sleeping had a telephone that I had hardly ever used until now. It was going to be an opportunity soon.

During the lunch break, around 2:30 pm, I took my courage in both hands and headed to the office of my manager; Tom Watterford, who supervised my work. I was only afraid that he would give me a hard time. He was someone who was intimidating in his manner. He could be quite distant, a little cold with people and phlegmatic. His main quality was his frankness which could often freeze you. But he knew how to be fair and recognize the merits of a person, both for his work and for more human qualities.

I only asked then, if tomorrow would be as full as today, saying that I wanted to be more organized to improve myself. He stared at me with wide eyes, surprised, sitting in his office chair.

"You don't need it that much. You're doing a good job and getting better."

"I am?" I asked, both delighted and amazed.

It was the first time I had heard it from him which was flattering and very motivating. He nodded quietly before asking me this question which amazed me.

"By the way! Are you going to the Pearl Jam concert tomorrow?"

"Huh? ... Let's just say I found out about it very recently. Why?"

I felt so embarrassed and silly as I answered. However, I had been very intrigued by his question, not expecting it at all.

"Most of the people here are going to go and attend, including Jeff Buckley."