penkatonix: "pls write an if we're single by the time we're 35 ficlet"
This is for everyone who points out my typos. You're the best. 💛
"Nice! That was it! Now just keep practicing. You'll want to embellish it, but make sure you get the pitch and timing down first, just like that." Katja is really coming along, and I could not be more proud of her. She started choir this year with only basic training, and now she's taking summer voice lessons with me and riffing like a pro. She's going to go far.
I don't really bother with the talented students, the kids with naturally beautiful voices and innate musical intuition. It's the kids like Katja, the ones who work hard and push themselves, who succeed. It's incredible seeing some of them go on to fulfill their dreams. It's not really the same as fulfilling my own, and not all my students even pursue music after high school, and only very rarely does anyone make much of a splash, but it's still good to know I've given them all the training and encouragement I can, and that it's helped them. I've been directing choir and teaching voice lessons in Dallas since I graduated from UCLA twelve or thirteen years ago, so there have been a few success stories. The good, naturally talented students get scholarships and win competitions. The hardworking, dedicated students go on to get record deals, release albums, and even go on tour sometimes.
Of course, not everyone with drive has no inherent talent, and plenty of talented people also have drive. Some people don't have much of either, some people favor one or the other, and some people have a healthy dose of both. Sadly, that isn't any guarantee of making it big. It would have been a crying shame, though, if it hadn't been enough for Mitch. He's always had talent in full measure. His tone is naturally clear and beautiful, and his range, even before training, was ridiculous. More than that, though, he stretched himself, pushed his limits, and always expects more from his voice.
I wasn't even surprised when he got discovered, signed, famous. He's still at it, still touring and still pushing himself. His voice is better every time I watch him perform. Somehow he always manages to spot me in the crowd, even in huge arenas, and wave or blow me a kiss. Sometimes he even has a bit of time to catch up with me over drinks before or after. He knows other people here too, though, so we haven't really been in touch for a while.
I wait until for five o' clock to dial his number. In his time zone, it's midnight. It's his birthday. That's a good enough excuse to call and leave him a message.
"Scott!" I just about jump out of my skin when he picks up.
"Whoa! I was gonna record Happy Birthday on your voicemail or something. You're awake?"
"Nope," he teases, "I'm asleep, sleep talking. It's only midnight! Of course I'm awake! Wait, what time is it there? Like, five?"
Gone are my days of staying up past midnight all the time. He's making me feel old. He's 35 too now, though. "Yep. Happy birthday!"
"Happy thirty-fifth birthday, you mean."
"Happy thirty-fifth."
"Come on, you haven't forgotten, have you?"
"Forgotten what?" I was hoping he had forgotten. I don't want him to think it's why I'm calling. How sad would that be? No, I just want to wish him a happy birthday. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. This has nothing to do with our pact.
