Chapter 1.
“There’s no place like home”
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A month. I had only a month to move out from the property that had become my home since almost ten years ago before they took possession of it. The words of the bank agent had taken me completely off guard, slapping me on the face with the brutal reality of my situation.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf72uDgDL0Z
A squalid month. I had thought that they would give me more time, that they would take pity on me. But those people don’t allow themselves to have any empathy for the others. They were unmoved by my mourning; they were just doing their job.
I looked through the kitchen window, my elbows on the table, nervously drumming my fingers on the wooden surface with a soft thud, desperate. I was lost. I had nowhere to go, I couldn’t keep the house on my own even if I wanted to, and I couldn’t afford a new one with my scarce savings either.
I’d made the mistake of living in a dream, in a bubble that kept me away from the colorless and distressing reality, expecting all of the problems to stay out of it so I could continue living carefree about the world. But that bubble exploded, reveling me that my life was even emptier than what I had thought.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡULuvMJEE8g
It’s sad to know you don’t have the shelter of a home. Some time ago I stopped to belong to one. I had never been so alone, in a foreign city, with nobody to turn to. Just me. And loneliness, which had once been such a good friend of mine, now drowned me silently into the dim depts. The only thing I had left was my music, luckily; I had nothing more.
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Pennsylvania was the city that watched me grow, in which I lived along with my parents for many years. Since I was a kid, I found in the music a loyal confident, a friend that promised to always accompany me, through thick and thin. I could pass hours listening to it, getting lost in its color and shape, in all of those emotions that it conveyed to me. It was like if we talked in our own secret language.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRiM1ZsweQG
I remember sitting at the piano playing melodies along with my mom almost every afternoon. I miss those days, when I didn’t have to worry about anything and I could just laugh and sing and play with no responsibilities.
My first guitar was given to me on my twelfth birthday; I insisted a lot to get it, and I was beside myself with excitement when I finally had it in my hands. I never took a single guitar lesson. I preferred to learn on my own.
It was through adolescence when rock music invaded my world completely. I worked a whole summer at my father’s workshop and saved for months so that I could buy a new guitar, an electric one this time. An ebony Yamaha Telecaster Pacifica. It was my adoration! Nirvana soon appeared in my life and they become my greatest inspiration. It was then when I discovered my passion for rock music, and I couldn’t imagine anything else for my future.
I finished high school with my dream very present, determined to pursue it until I became legend. But the events that happened next weren’t precisely what I expected. A tragic car accident took my parents’ lives without warning. I had to move with my aunt then, widow of my parent’s older brother, to the unknown city of Toronto, Ontario, Canada. I left my country behind.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNDocwXJcQN
I had lived with her since then, my only family. Or, at least, she was.
I stood a whole year at the Law College before giving it up definitely – which I consider, it was a great endurance for me – making official the fact that I had already anticipated: that was not my thing. I was destined to music, and I dedicated myself entirely to it since that moment.
I got a part-time job at a music store that was a few blocks away from my aunt’s house; the payment wasn’t extravagant, but I completed it with the money I got from playing at night at bars and other places. That was my way to give financial support to my aunt – who was retired and received monthly pensions that covered our basic expenses – while I kept on doing what fascinated me. And that was enough for us for a while, I dare admit. Until her chronic illnesses got the best of her, leaving me alone again.
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No family, no home. What would become of my life now? I had no one, not even real friend in whom I could find comfort. I was sunk to the neck, I felt lost, oblivious.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZlQ7gFUz2L
I had no other choice but to look for a more economical place to live, a new home. Something I could afford with my laughable salary – which, by the way, I ought to find the way to rise it if I planned to survive. And I had exactly a month to find a shelter, or I’d live on the streets.
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I finished tuning the strings of the guitar in a few minutes. The amplifier was already turned on and all the soundcheck proved positively. A cabled microphone rested on on its base in front of me, ready to emit my voice through the whole place. My fingertips stroke the strings once more before the show began. I cleared my throat, approaching the microphone to speak.
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- Good evening, everyone. Thanks for coming. My name is Benjamin, and I will liven up the atmosphere a little. This is a song from my favorite band, it’s called “Breed”. Hope you like it. – I said, positioning my fingers over the right notes to start playing.
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The Pacifica sang each note with the expected intonation, playing the initial riff of the mentioned song through the amplifier. Of course it didn’t sound the same without a bass and the drums to accompany, but I could not complain about the sound of my electric guitar. It was amazing.
It was one of the firsts songs that I had learned to play in my Pacifica when I was a teenager, and it was one of my favorites as well. My voice soon joined the melody, enunciating each word of the lyrics as if I could feel the same way Kurt Cobain did while writing it. And, somehow, I did.
The people seemed to enjoy the concert, if my eyes didn’t deceive me. A few of them were singing along, with emotion – notably Nirvana lovers, or at least they liked the song. Some others just listened. I didn’t complain, to be honest. I had to admit I wasn’t that bad on it, I just couldn’t be.
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After “Breed”, came “Lithium”, with the same success the previous one had. And another couple of songs from the same band, consecutively. I also played a few more songs the public had requested, feeling satisfied for their participation and enthusiasm. My guitar responded to my commands like clockwork, giving out the notes without singing out of tune not even once, which I appreciated. People liked my music, and that was a wonderful sign.
Once the show had come to its end, I thanked the audience and said goodbye. The applause came as lively waves up to my ears. I had noticed that more people had joined the audience as I had started playing, and I dare to say that not to feed my frail ego or anything.
I disconnected my equipment, unplugging the amplifier and putting the Pacifica carefully into its case, giving it a night. It had come out to be better than I expected – compared to my worst nights, at least – and that provoked a sense of elation on me.
I headed towards the bar once I was done picking up all my stuff from the wee stage, carrying the black case of my guitar on my shoulder, and holding my jacket with my forearm. I waited for the bar manager to get my pay for each presentation, glancing absently at the customers that were drinking and chatting pleasantly, sitting on stools before the bar.965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHgV2Q2Dbk4
It was then when I noticed that a bloke was approaching me, like if he had been waiting for me after my humble concert. I saw him by the corner of my eye. I turned to him; he wasn’t that much tall – or at least, he didn’t seem to be to my eyes, but that could be due to my noteworthy height –, with brown hair and friendly face. He wouldn’t be more than twenty-seven years old – which would be equivalent to my own age –, with a slight stubble on his jawline. He smiled at me in a comradery gesture and admiration shining in his eyes, which gave the impression that he recognized my work.
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- Hi. – He greeted, smiling, and I could distinguish a hint of shyness in his voice. – I… I’m Shaun, Shaun Foist. – He introduced himself, holding out a hand to me. I took it, shaking it briefly and smiling back at him.
- Benjamin Burnley, call me Ben.
- It’s really nice to meet you personally, Ben. – He said, excited. – I've listened to you playing several times in this place, but never had the opportunity to introduce myself. You played at the bar on the fifth before, didn’t you? My friends and I used to go there almost every weekend. Let me tell you, you’re awesome! I don’t remember having seen someone with that much talent since Kurt Cobain himself!
- Why thank you. – I smiled bashfully, feeling the subtle rise of blood to my face. I wasn’t accustomed to the excessive praise. I knew I was kind of good, but I wasn’t used to hear it as fervently as this guy assured me. – It’s good to know you like what I do.
- Indeed! Well… I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you with all my fanaticism. – He excused himself, with an ashamed smile. – Do you mind if I buy you a drink? The night’s young to leave now.
- How could I refuse? – I chuckled. – Thank you, Shaun.
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Alright, I admit that from there, I began to truly like the guy. He was really kind and nice, and his occasional timidity and quietness reminded me a little of myself. I knew we would get along with each other quite well, and I hoped that was an opportunity to establish a friendship with Shaun. And, fortunately, I wasn’t mistaken.
We took our seats in front of the bar, and the brunet asked for two beers for both of us. I thanked him again for the gesture, and he assured me there was no problem.
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- Do you play any instrument? – I asked, once we had our beers in hand and were chatting about triviality.
- Yes. Actually, that was one of the topics I wanted to mention. – He admitted. – I’m a drummer. My friends and I wanted to form a rock band, but we’re missing a vocalist and a rhythm guitar. I… I don’t know… I thought that maybe you’d be interested. You’re more than good, and it’d be an honour to have you in the team. What do you say? – He offered, hopeful. – I understand if you’re busy or have any other plans, no worries. It’s just an offer, in case you want to considerate it or know anyone who’d want the part. – He shrugged, as if to mask the discouragement in him that would cause my refusal.
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I blinked several times, unbelieving. A band? They were offering me to be part of a band? A real band?! I hadn’t been part of one since years ago, and I kind of missed being in one. It was way easier to succeed in the artistic world when you one had a band to have your back. I hadn’t got an offer like that in a long while, and even if I didn’t know a thing about the quality or the work of these musicians Shaun told me about, I couldn’t help but feel excited about the idea. A band!965Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwjaIwapYSl
No doubt, this should have been some sort of sign of destiny, my ticket to make my dream of becoming someone great come true. How could one disregard such an opportunity?
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- Are you being serious? I’d love to, yeah! – I replied with renewed optimism, one that had been perishing due to the recent events in my life. – Should I audition or something like that?
- No, no, not at all! Though you could play something, only to accomplish the standard formalities and such. The guys love that whole theatre. – He said, chuckling.
I laughed too, and nodded.
- Okay. Sounds actually good. Where would we meet?
- Oh, right… Well, it may sound pathetic, but we rehearse in the basement at one of the guys’ place. – He confessed with a slight blush in his cheeks. – We’ve got the necessary equipment, though. Instruments, extensions, amplifiers, microphones and all of that.
- That’s quite alright. – I smiled, taking another sip of my drink.
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I still remembered my days of rehearsals in the garage vividly, as if it hadn’t been years since that. They were good times, to be honest. I missed those afternoons of fun and improvised rock with my friends – the ones I left behind when I moved to Canada.
Before letting the nostalgia take over me, came to the spotlight in my mind the so important subject that I had to handle as soon as possible, and I seized the opportunity to get a little help with that.
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- Hey, Shaun… Do you casually know of someone who rents a room or an apartment here? – I asked. – I’m looking for a new place to live, you know… something cheap, not too big.
- Uh, no, sorry dude. I don’t know anyone with any vacancies lately. – He replied, wincing as if he was really sorry for disappointing me. – But maybe Gary knows of something. Dudes always come and leave their brochures or stuff like that. – He suggested, looking around for the bartender that had handed us the beers. – Hey, Gary! – He called him, and soon the aforementioned approached, drying his hands with a small towel.
- You need anything, Shaun?
Because of the comradery with which he spoke to one another, it was obvious that they knew each other since long ago, and they seemed to have some sort of friendship.
- The disciple of Kurt Cobain sitting here is looking for a place where they rent apartments or a room. Have you got anything of that sort? – He said, pointing at me with a brief nod. I smiled amused at the reference to my person. – Something cheap.
- Let me check, bro. – He answered and then turned to some drawers to look for something among the papers that were spread inside.
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I awaited, expectant, drumming my fingers around my drink with a little anxiety. If that dude had something for me, I’d be more than relieved and endlessly grateful for having taken quite a burden off of my shoulders. I was desperate to find a new home, for I would lose mine in a short time.
Gary, the bartender, turned back to us with a paper in hand that looked like a makeshift pamphlet. He slid it over the bar to me.
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- A bloke came a couple of days ago and left me this. He comes around now and then. He’s renting a room, I think. He didn’t give me many details, but for what he mentioned, it wasn’t expensive and has good space. There are the numbers and the address, if you care to contact him. – Gary informed me, as I took the paper and quickly examined the digits and information written on the sheet.
- Is he reliable? – I questioned, doubtful.
- Yes, he’s a nice dude. – He said lightly, shrugging. – Surely you will get along well, he’s also a musician.
- Oh, great. I’ll call him then. – I nodded. – Thank you, Gary.
- You’re welcome, man.
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Gary went to serve the other clients, leaving Shaun and me to chat for a while more before it started to get really late.
Shaun wrote down his number at the back of the sheet the bartender had given to me, and also wrote there the address of the place and the hour when we would be meeting for my supposed audition with my new band – that was if everything went well and the other band members wanted me in, despite Shaun assuring me that they’d be delighted.
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I finally bade Shaun goodbye, thanking once more him for the beer and for the opportunity. I couldn’t deny my mood changed completely by the end of the night. It had been a nice show, I had found a potential new friend, and now two doors of opportunities were opened before me: on the one hand, they had invited me to be part of a real rock band, and on the other, it was possible that I found a new home before what I had feared. Destiny appeared unusually on my side, and I couldn’t feel any more ebullient about it.
I climbed into my car – which actually had been my aunt’s car before she passed away; I never had enough money to afford one of my own, although she lent it to me in case I needed it – and put the case of my guitar and my amplifier on the passenger’s seat. I drove calmly back home, the house that would be my home for the last time and that I would soon lose. That thought disheartened me a bit, but thinking about all the good things that had happened to me that day distracted me from it.
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I had the strong hope that, from this point, my life would change for the better and I would manage to climb right up to my dreams. I told myself that everything would go better, and that now that I had so many wonderful opportunities, I would just move forward.
I went to bed with such optimistic thoughts, refusing to distrust how good everything seemed to be for now. No doubt, there must have been a trick to all of that, but I chose to ignore it and let my enthusiasm dissipate the depression that I suffered until then. Things would be different now, my life would finally turn out to be the one that I desired.
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But, of course, sometimes one has too many expectations about the future, and I never imagined any of that would ever happen to me. My plans changed the moment I met him.
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