Breath

Nightfall (Max Cavalera)

A friend on tumblr asked me to write her a little something with Max. While I do listen to Sepultura, I'm not really familiar with any of the members in the way I am with Guns N' Roses, Metallica, etc. Gave this my best shot anyways :) 

Florida, U.S.A, 1990

Scott Burns' home studio Morrisound was deluxe. It had everything the band could ask for. Igor got to spend a whole week just testing drum kits, and the sound quality was incredible. However, the best thing about recording their new album Arise was that Max's girlfriend lived nearby, and he got to spend time with her almost everyday after production.

After a long day of recording, Max's hands were sweaty and aching. Despite Brazil having a similar climate to Florida, it still sucked having to walk outside into hot, sticky air. He and the boys parted ways, and Max headed over to his girlfriend's house.

She lived in a pink bungalow ten minutes away. The houses were spaced far apart, so it was always pretty quiet there. The grass was overgrown and swaying in the gentle breeze, and a few palm trees stood out front. Her door and windows were painted a different color, a pretty teal green.

Max knocked on the door.

"Coming!" Footsteps hurried toward the entrance, and his girlfriend opened the screen door.

"Hey!" she said, a wide smile on her face. She was dressed in comfortable shorts and a baggy t-shirt with his band logo on it, which made him happy. Her hair was damp. She must have just gotten out of the shower.

"Hi," he greeted, pulling her into a quick hug. Their long hair, his light and hers dark, mingled together.

"Come in," she told him. 

The bungalow had three rooms: a small kitchen, a living room with a couch and television, and a bedroom with a tiny bathroom attached to it. Its size didn't matter though; Max loved how comfortable it was and how she had decorated it. Potted plants hung in the kitchen and living room, and dozens of posters crowded the walls. Over the kitchen sink was a framed photo of Sepultura playing live in 1987.

"Do you want something to drink?" she asked. "It's so hot outside. I was dying of thirst earlier."

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Water, of course, and iced tea. I have orange juice, too. Oh! And this grapefruit soda thing my mom got me at the store."

"I'll try that."

She took two large glasses from the cabinet and filled them with a couple ice cubes each, and then poured the soda over. It was pink and fizzy, and Max suddenly became super thirsty.

And idea popped into his head. "Do you want to sit on the roof?" he asked. "I know it's hot, but the sun is going down. Might be a pretty view."

Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Sounds good. Let me get some pillows."

She grabbed two striped pillows from the couch, and he carried the glasses, being careful not to spill anything. It was a bit tricky to get onto the roof; you had to hoist yourself up, so doing it with no hands was hard. They managed, though, and set the pillows down near the edge of the roof.

The surface of the roof was almost flat, so they didn't have to worry about slipping off. It's one of Max's favorite things about the house. They could spend hours up there just talking.

He sat cross-legged on his pillow and took a tiny sip from his glass. The drink was sweet but not too sweet, and had a perfect amount of sourness. It was cold, too, and refreshing.

The sun had gone down, and the sky was now streaked with orange and pink and purple. He loved sunset, and it was even better sharing it with his girlfriend.

"Hey," he said.

She turned to him. "Hey."

"How was your day?"

She shrugged. "Nothing new. My boss yelled at me this morning, but everything else was okay."

 A surge of anger rose in him. He absolutely hated her boss and wished she could get a better job, one where she would be treated like an actual human being.

"When this is over," he said, "when we're finished recording, I'll take you with me."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Come on tour with me," he pleaded. "You'll get to hear us play whenever you want, stay in hotels, do whatever. You don't even have to go to the concerts. You can go explore the cities and stuff."

Her face tightened. "I don't have the money for that, Max. I have almost nothing in my bank account."

He laughed. "No, no, no. You don't understand. It would be all taken care of. You wouldn't have to worry about a thing. And when the tour is over, we'll find a house together. Wherever you want."

"Really?" she exclaimed. Her drink slipped from her hands and tumbled over the side of the roof. "Shit!" They both looked over the edge and saw shattered glass on the ground. "That was one of my favorite cups," she sighed.

"So, what do you think?"

She placed her hand over his. "I think it would be amazing. Thank you so much."

He sighed in relief. "You have no idea how happy I am right now."

She giggled. "It'll be fun. I'll get to be with you the whole time. Plus, I've never seen y'all play live before."

Max laughed. "Y'all" was one of those American terms he was slowly getting used to.

"Just prepare yourself," he warned. "It might blow your eardrums out."

She scoffed. "Please. I listen to loud music everyday."

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay. If you're sure..."

She smacked his arm and they burst out laughing. Five weeks later they set out on tour, and it was the best time of Max's life.