Gently into the good night

Chapter Thirteen- It's not so perfect

"How was it?" I ask as Chris and Peter walk into the house with the bass and guitar in their hands. "We uhmm..." Peter says. "Didn't get selected" Chris says completing Peter's sentence. Their faces look pale after getting rejected the eleventh time in these two months.

The two months escalated quickly without a lot of change. Each day was a reflection of the previous. The same old routine: getting up in the morning, breakfast, cleaning for me and music practice for them, lunch, a walk in the garden, evening tea then dinner and time for bed. I occasionally went to meet Mrs Adams and we chatted or cooked together. Sometimes Byron and I had a little chat when the evening twilight approached due to which the trade slackened. Then for any audition for a singing role in a movie or advertisement these two would leave with great enthusiasm but came back rejected every time. Things were pretty much consistent and I wasn't anticipating a change any sooner. Soon the feeling on a changing future was felt by me. The past influences the future and maybe it wasn't about to change for the better.

Chris goes and sits on the window bay and Peter sits on the adjacent couch. They both look pensive and broken. I won't blame them though. "Can I suggest something?" I ask doubtfully, they both look at me and Peter says "Yes, please" emphasising on the 'please'. "I think you both should find a job in a night club or bar or a restaurant. I know music is your dream and you want to sing from your heart but finance is at stake and there is only enough for Chris and me for another four weeks." I say earnestly. "But-" Peter begins to say but I cut him off before the argument reaches any further "It's only a suggestion" I say in my defence. "She's right. We need the money, Peter. I have no source of income other than this and there is nobody else I have in the world with an honest kinship. It'll have to do. Let it be" Chris says and now I finally feel he is thinking from his head. "Alright I guess" Peter agrees with dissatisfaction. He gets up to leave; I feel like I might have offended him but sometimes it's important to be practical and reasonable." Be ready by seven in the evening. We'll go to the club down the street and find ourselves a job as well as celebrate our rejection. Amelia you have to come along" Peter says closing the door behind him.

Chris goes up to him room and I can see the frustration swirling up in his body, it feels like the negative energy is radiating out of his body making me feel melancholy as well . I go up after him. I reach his door only finding it shut. I knock but there is no response. I turn the knob and the door opens. "Everything all right?" I ask, Of course everything is not alright but I ask anyways. He is sitting on the window bay, hugging a pillow and staring outside. The sun rays are falling on this face making it seem golden and enhancing his features. "No, everything is not really alright" He says with a sad sigh. I sit beside him and he turns his gaze to me. "I always thought I was good at it. Singing was always something I loved to do. Failing at something you love to do feels devastating" he says with a sad smile. I look directly into his light brown eyes and say " I've missed more than 9000 shorts in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over again in my life and that is why I succeeded" I say stating Michael Jordan's quote. He looks at me and smiles "Who said these lines?" He asks "Michael Jordan" My reflexes respond and then I regret it. "Who's he?" Chris asks narrowing his eyes with confusion. "My neighbour, he is training. He wants to represent the States" I respond trying to seem natural and not insane again. "Oh" he says with a vague idea of the conversation. 'He's not even born yet, you idiot' my conscience says to me. He shifts his gaze back to the world outside, still feeling yonder from his dreams.

~*~

"Cheers" Peter says clinking his glass to Chris's glass and then to mine. "At least we have a job now" Peter says sipping into his beer. "Yeah at Liverpool Hostelry" Chris says rolling his eye in annoyance. "Oh come on at least it's a gastropub and not a dive or shebeen" Peter argues trying to prove his point. "Why would it be a shebeen anyways?" Chris says pointing his finger to Peter. "Cut it out, both of you" I say in protest against the continuation of the argument. They both fall silent turning their face away from each other. I groan with frustration and just cut into my chicken sausage. After a while they begin to talk again and I just plead that they don't begin an argument any time sooner.