(P.S. I based this story on a song by All Time Low called Remembering Sunday.)
“Hey, I'm Alex. It's nice to meet you.” Not what I'd been
expecting. He'd looked me right in the eyes, those eyes he'd said he
could write an endless amount of songs about. He'd looked right at
them, and hadn't recognized me. Yeah, I'd changed a bit too. Given in
my too small converse for heels. Let my razor cut hair reach past my
shoulders, and someone with experience use scissors. Wrinkles had
started to form in the corners of my eyes and lips. Ten years tend to
do that to a person.
Alex was looking at me with expectation.
“Julie.”
“Nice name. Is it alright if we warm up?”
“You do whatever you want.” I turned and carefully made my way
to the mixer next door, thankful for the tinted glass and that Lance
was here. If he wasn't, I might have just left the building. That or
pulled the fire alarm.
Whenever doing a session, I always record the band warming up
without telling them. Sometimes that's when I get the best sound
because they don't know the mics are listening. The same went for
today. Alex and the others started running straight through their
song without any prompting. I turned on the mics and sat back.
“Remembering Sunday he falls to his knees, they had breakfast
together but two eggs don't last like the feeling of what he needs. .
.” I'd only been half listening, messing with balancing
pitches, but the mention of two eggs caught my attention.
“I don't mean to be a bother but have you seen this girl? She's
been running through my dreams and it's driving me crazy it seems.
I'm gonna ask her to marry me.” I'd always thought Alex was
going to propose to me, but that didn't mean anything.
“The neighbors said she moved away, funny how it rained all
day. These clouds are following me in my desperate endeavor to find
my whoever, wherever she may be.” Just because my ex Alex was
singing a song about a girl who moved away without telling him,
didn't mean it was about me. Just because I happened to make him two
eggs the last time I saw him, and just because I'd thought he was
going to propose didn't mean anything. It'd been ten years, he could
have dated lots of girls who made eggs and moved away without any
notice on Sundays.
“I'm not coming back. I've done something so terrible I'm
terrified to speak but you'd expect that from me. I'm mixed up I'll
be blunt now the rain is just washing you out of my hair and out of
my mind.” Bile ran up my throat but I was able to swallow it.
This room was too small, I needed to get out of here. I pushed away
from the table but right as I stood up, Alex strummed the last chord.
“I guess I'll go home.” I waited a few seconds, then
turned off all the mics.
“That was a really great take. I don't think we need to run
through again,” I said into the mic that spoke into the studio. All
the boys gave me shocked looks but I ignored them, telling Lance that
he could finish this session up. I walked out into the hall, pressed
my back against the wall and slowly slid to the floor. I rested there
with my head between my knees until the lack edges disappeared from
my vision.
I pulled my wallet out of my back pocket, flipping through the
business cards, sticky notes, and fortune cookie wrappers until my
fingers found the photo paper. The creases from my wallet had formed
splintering lines in the fourths of the paper. My name and the date
was still visible in the corner. June 14th 2003. The black
grey and white still mixed perfectly to form that perfect bean. The
dark oval off center towards the right. That thin little line towards
the bottom. Lorraine didn't see it no matter how many times I showed
her, but I swore that baby was smiling.
I slammed the door, scattering the cutouts of wedding cakes across
the floor.
“Hey! I just spent-” Lorraine cut off after seeing my face.
“What happened?” I told her about the day. She gasped, swore, and
yanked at her hair in all the right places. By the time my eyes ran
out of water Lorraine had already come up with a plan.
“Ok. He recorded his song and you got a good take. All you're
required to do at this point is mix the song, right?”
“Right.”
“Lets get this over with.” Lorraine tiptoed through the cutouts
to where my bag rested at the door. She grabbed the fingerprint
covered laptop out and set it on the coffee table.
“We're both not moving until it's done. Then we can pig out on
wedding cake samples.”
“Isn't that something that you're supposed to do with your
fiance?”
“He doesn't like cake remember?”
“Then why do you have cake samples?”
“Will you shut up? You're letting Marie Antoinette down. Let me
eat cake.”
At 1:13 the burned cd popped out of my laptop. I'd shared the file
on our work network as required. My job was done. Cake never tasted
so good.
Subject:
Album Recording
Date:
March 7, 2013
To:
Julie May <julie.may@gmail.com>
Julie,
That recording you did two months ago of the song “Remembering
Sunday” has created quite some buzz in the music community. I've
been speaking with the band, and they've agreed to do their first
album with us. I've decided that it's only right that you're the one
to record it. You've been talking about wanting bigger projects,
here's your chance. Recording starts tomorrow. Good luck!
Maybe it's just me and my tired state, but I got incredibly lost when she pulled her wallet out. And did you skip parts of the story where your big breaks are (after the wallet-scene and again before the email)?
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