Minor Changes

Chapter Ten

 It was unclear whether Jordon actually had things to do, or just wanted to avoid Eddy in his hungover, brooding state, but he stayed out for most of the day. Eddy couldn't blame him. By the looks of his haggard, red-rimmed eyes in the bathroom mirror, he would have high-tailed it out as well. Regardless, Eddy was thankful to have some space. It had been a rough night of vomiting up alcohol and tears.

He listlessly flipped through the TV channels until noon, when he mustered the strength to reply to a few work emails. Not that he even knew what or who Two Set was anymore.

He had no appetite whatsoever, but made himself eat a bowl of stale cereal, which stuck to the roof of his mouth like cotton. There was a half-finished composition on the keyboard music stand, and he spent the better part of the afternoon noodling around; jotting down his own ideas on manuscript paper. It wasn't much, but at least the black and white keys kept his hands occupied and his head above water.

***

Brett's afternoon passed at a snail's pace. After hanging the laundry, he decided to clean and organize the studio. He opened the folder he had brought from home, and as he alphabetized the music by composer, he came across the score for the concerto he had played at the Queensland Concerto Competition all those years ago. Reading his carefully written notes on the pages brought memories flooding back through his mind.

He could still see the waves of afternoon heat rising from the asphalt. 

***

The competition, comprised of mostly other 17 and 18-year-olds, had gone well and he had given one of his best performances to date, but due to his nerves, he hadn't been as expressive as he would have liked. 

He was awarded second prize. It was a huge accomplishment, but he was still a little disappointed in himself.

He kicked a stone in the parking lot behind the building and loosened the overly-tight collar of his white button-down. The building was too crowded and he was tired of shaking hands and fraternizing. His parents would soon be coming out after visiting with other parents. He sat against a brick wall, legs out in front of him, and set his violin case in the shade of an awning. He folded his unseasonably heavy suit jacket and set it on the ground. 

The exit door nearby swung open with a creak and a head of black hair popped around the corner. It was Eddy. He always happened to appear in the moments when Brett wanted to be with someone, but also to be silent.

"Oh, hey," said Eddy, who had also been a finalist. "Nice work today. Congrats!" 

Brett gave one of his unconvincing, teeth-only smiles.

"Thanks, man."

"Honestly, I mean it. You ought to have made first." Eddy said this with such conviction that Brett was half tempted to believe him. Eddy was always too open; too verbose in his encouragement...too sincere.

"Thanks, bro," Brett mumbled. "You played really well."

Eddy swept a mess of pebbles out of the way and sat down next to him. They were quiet for a moment. Sweat was dripping down Brett's back, gluing his shirt to his skin. Eddy turned toward him. His eyes were filled with a depth of confidence belied by his age.

"One day you're going to be known around the world. There's no doubt in my mind," Eddy said.

***

While Brett had been at a loss for words in the moment, he had carried Eddy's words with him all through university, his fellowship with the SSO, and into their early, shaky days of making YouTube content. Somehow, Eddy's surety had always given him permission to go on, even when he didn't believe in himself. 

Those precious images had come soaring through his mind like a meteors through the night sky. His memories with Eddy were like that—there were hundreds, maybe thousands, and they would sweep across the canvas of his mind whenever he allowed himself the liberty. It was funny. He hadn't thought about that day in years, and now it played in his mind as clearly as the score in his hands.

Where would I be without Eddy?

The question blinked in his mind like a cursor.

What would I have done without him?

His fingers drifted into his pocket and pulled out the piece of paper with Eddy's writing on it. It was like fire to the touch. There was no way to unread it.

Where would I want to be without Eddy?

What would I want do without him?

He considered the questions in earnest. 

He could think of nowhere, nothing.

How he, one small fish in a veritable sea of humanity, had been afforded this one-in-a-million chance was a mystery. A profoundly brutal, beautiful, mystery. And yet there it was, dancing on rice-thin paper before his very eyes.

He felt a tear catch in his throat. It welled up and emerged in a muffled, plaintive sob. There was no stopping the deluge, and at this point he didn't even care to try. Years and years of suppressed emotion began flowing out of his eyes, causing his body to heave in uncontrollable convulsions. He held his face in his hands and cried and cried and cried. He cried until his throat was raw and his body was ragged and his sleeves were wet from wiping the snot and tears from his face. When his body calmed and the rhythm of his breath steadied, he planted his feet on the ground and stood.

Expectations be damned. Leering eyes be damned. Risk of losing all he held dear, be damned.

He couldn't go through the rest of his life knowing he'd had a chance like this and thrown it away.