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One sudden horrific moment shifts the entire trajectory of Atlas and Errol's lives, handicapping both young men in ways they could never have expected. A sculptor without his sight, and a piani...
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The phone call from Atlas caught me completely off guard.
I did my best to pull it together, forcing my exhausted body to function almost immediately as sheets of music got tossed everywhere in the process. They reminded me of what I was working on before I fell asleep. When had I fallen asleep? I thought to myself.
The conversation with Atlas was awkward right off the bat, starting with me not bothering to check the number of who was calling until after I answered. By then, I had already given my less than polite greeting, thinking it was Hendrix with even more stressing information for me. It wasn't, and it didn't take long before Atlas settled on an annoyed response.
Great. Just a great start.
Regardless, the sigh of relief I let out when Atlas said yes, released all the tension in my shoulders. I hadn't even realized how on edge I had been during the call.
Now Atlas didn't sound the most excited about taking the commission on, but as long as he was going to do it, I couldn't really give a shit about his attitude.
We agreed to meet this coming Monday, which was in a few days. I asked if we could meet tonight but Atlas gave me a short and direct no. I didn't even try to push it, sensing the guy had already reached his max with accepting this bizarre request in the first place.
We didn't stay on the phone long either, with Atlas saying a quick goodbye before he hung up. I slowed to a stop, realizing I had started to pace around my room while on the call. Things looked a bit tidier as well, as I noticed most of my clothes now picked up. It was only after the call ended, when I finally let my scrambled drowsy brain play a bit of catch up.
First off, I was admittedly a bit confused. I didn't expect Atlas to call at all, and if I had chose wishful thinking during this unfortunate situation, I thought it would be at least a few weeks before he called.
From what Atlas said, it sounded like he knew a lot more about the accident now. I wasn't sure what exactly he knew, but I was grateful he didn't bring it up much tonight, or I probably would've had to make a quick liquor store run.
I was not in the right headspace to have that conversation right now. Hell, I was still hearing notes. Notes from the weird dream I had had shortly before my phone woke me up. Notes I needed to get down on paper before they escaped this fried brain completely.
Hendrix hadn't let up about my past due work either. She had called again earlier this morning to remind me of the new deadlines she graciously negotiated with the company, which meant I was spending this weekend in crunch time.
