Michael's Awakening Read online

  “Gabriel? Come back down to Earth, little bro. I’m starting to get a complex just sitting here talking to myself.” His voice pulled me from my thoughts, making me realize that I was standing in the middle of the room, holding the phone to my ear and staring at the wall like a psycho.

  “Umm. I’m listening.” I totally wasn’t. “Just repeat the last part?”

  “You’re such a bad liar. What I said, while you were in Fairy Land, was that I want to get together and have lunch or dinner sometime. I haven’t seen you in a while, and I hate to admit it, but I miss your snarky ass.”

  I snorted into the phone and rolled my eyes, “Me? Snarky? As if. I don’t have one snarky cell in my body.” He was right though, it had been way too long since I had seen him due to our busy work schedules. He and my father didn’t live that far away from me, but it seemed like we could never find the time to see each other as often as we’d like.

  I had gone to beauty school and got my cosmetology license about two years ago and since then, I had worked my gorgeous ass off making a living for myself. Things really began to take off for me when I got the job at Beauty Central, where I did people’s makeup, hair, and gave them other beauty tips on a daily basis. A few months ago, I had also started taking cello lessons from the university near my apartment. So, when I wasn’t working, I was spending countless hours practicing my cello and rehearsing my part for the upcoming music recital I was performing in. I was completely booked.

  “I really miss you, too, though,” I told him. “After my concert this weekend, my schedule should be a little less full, so maybe we can squeeze lunch in then.”

  “Oh yeah, you know I’m coming to that, right? I wouldn’t miss my little brother rocking out on his cello to Mozart for anything!”

  “Actually, it’s Bach, not Mozart. But I see your point. Thanks, Zach.” I couldn’t stop the small chuckle that escaped me. At least he knows who Mozart is, I inwardly thought. “How’s Dad doing? I haven’t talked to him in a while.”

  There was a small pause on the other end of the phone. “He’s uh…he’s not doing too badly. You know how Dad is, always trying to see the bright side of things. I think it would do him good to hear from you, though, Gabe.” The sadness in his voice was palpable.

  I glanced at my calendar and saw that it was October twenty-fourth; the six-year anniversary of our mother’s death was in five days. I wanted to slap myself for not calling my dad sooner and checking up on him.

  Zach was nineteen and I was fifteen when our mom got into a car accident on her way home from dropping me off at school one morning. The person who hit her was a truck driver who had been driving for too long without sleep. He ran a red light and smacked into the driver’s side of her car, killing her instantly.

  A silence weighed heavily between Zach and me. I’m sure his thoughts were exactly where mine were. On our mother.

  Blinking back tears, I cleared my throat. “Well, I better get going before I’m late for work. I’ll call you when I find a good time to have lunch.”

  “See you later, Gabe.”

  I hung up the phone and took a deep breath, trying to keep my tears from falling. The last thing I needed before going to work was to have my eyeliner and mascara running down my face, making me look like a cracked out drag queen. Walking over to my closet, I grabbed a sparkly, pink scarf and wrapped it fashionably around my neck before slipping into my black jacket.

  October weather in the state of Arkansas was not normally that cold, just a little chilly so a light jacket was all that was needed. Picking up my black purse from the kitchen table, I shoved my phone inside and then slung it over my shoulder before exiting my apartment and going to work.

  Chapter Three

  Michael

  It was that time again. That time when the sun set in the sky and cast the world into darkness. It was the time of day that I dreaded most, when all light disappeared and left me alone with the nightmares inside my mind.

  Twenty years had passed since the horrors of my childhood were put to an end. Within those many years, I had learned to cope with the darkness, but there were still moments where I felt like the weight of my past was just too much to bear. Moments where the despondency crept up my spine and wrapped around my throat, suffocating me.

  Moments like now.

  I sat at my kitchen table, a glass of whiskey in hand, and stared out the glass door that revealed the countryside surrounding my house. Out here, I was secluded from everyone and everything. My isolation from the world was by my own choice. It was better for everyone if I just stayed to myself, outside of my profession. As much as I craved companionship, I knew I could never truly have it. Not without a price. Not a monetary price, but rather an emotional one.

  I was always in a constant battle with myself.

  Deep down, I felt like a good person. I felt like I made a difference in the world. But those thoughts were buried so deep and were always overcome and overshadowed by feelings of intense self-loathing.

  You little beast! The bite in my mother’s tone as she belittled me was still strong in my mind, even twenty years later. Growing up, that was all I had heard. And after a while, after being told something so often, a person starts to believe it.

  If I were to try and get close to someone– closer to them than just a physical, sexual release– I knew they would reject me once they saw me for what I actually was. Repulsion would cloud their eyes and they’d toss me away in a heartbeat.

  Lifting the glass of whiskey to my lips, I took a long drink. It burned as it went down my throat, but I didn’t mind. It was nice to feel something, even if it was through a drunken haze. I didn’t drink to excess often. With my job, being a drunk would inhibit my ability to work effectively. My mind always needed to be clear in the courtroom. However, sometimes in the evenings, I turned to my good, well-acquainted friend, Jack, to help me forget about things. If only for a little while.

  The reason unbeknownst to me, I chose to live with my pitiful existence, instead of ending my misery. It wasn’t because I was afraid of death. Death would actually be a relief. I think a small part of me still wanted to believe that things would eventually get better– that there was more to my life than just the pain I had suffered. Or maybe the reason was because I felt like I was helping the world by ensuring that justice was served with my line of work.

  Within the numerous years of practicing law, I had won more cases than I had lost. I had a real knack for prosecuting criminals. It wasn’t winning that satisfied me, though, it was the fact that low-life pieces of filth were taken off the streets and put away, unable to harm anyone else.

  Whatever the reason was, I was alive.

  Tilting the remaining liquid from the glass to my mouth, I finished it off and scooted back from my seat, my head already spinning. In my semi-drunken stupor, I stumbled to my bedroom and flung myself on my bed, on top of the blanket. My eyes found the bookshelf in the corner of my room and I stared at it, too uncoordinated to do much else at that moment.

  Books lined my shelf: books on poetry/sonnets, classic literature, and philosophy, as well as a few law textbooks. Those might sound like an odd fascination, especially coming from someone like me, but I had found that studying the words of ideological men of the past helped me make sense of my own purpose in the world. A lot of the poetry, I skipped. It was too focused on happiness and love for my taste.

  It was the poetry that spoke of darkness that piqued my interest.

  Even the darkest of souls held the chance for redemption. Whether that was true or not, I wasn’t positive, but the idea made for a decent distraction in my darkest of hours. Laying my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes. Hopefully now with the whiskey coursing through my veins and blanketing my mind with a layer of numbness, I could get some sleep.

  With any luck, I wouldn’t dream.

  Chapter Four

  Gabriel

  I opened my eyes to the bright light streaming in through the window and groan
ed. Grabbing my blanket, I pulled it over my head and rolled over, not yet ready to leave the comfort of my bed. It was warm here. And I was damn exhausted. It was Saturday morning, the big day. The music recital was today and I had stayed awake for the majority of the night rehearsing my part. I knew that I had my piece down, but that did nothing to stop the anxiety I felt.

  I had never performed in front of a big audience before.

  My love for the cello came from my mother. When I was young, I would hear her playing from the other room, and I’d go in there and sit in the floor to watch her. She would look down at me with the most beautiful of smiles lighting her face, as the music continued to echo throughout the room. Her hands would move with such grace that I knew that she must have been touched by an angel.

  It was magical.

  That’s why I decided to take cello lessons. My mother taught me how to play when I was younger, but I had fallen out of love with it after her death. It just brought back too many memories that I hadn’t been ready to face. Two months ago, I arranged for a private instructor through the university I lived near, and the lessons lasted for fifteen weeks. Usually, people didn’t perform any recitals until the end of the fifteen weeks in order to make sure they were performance ready, but my instructor had informed me that I had real passion and talent for playing the cello and had arranged for me to perform with the students who had been performing for years.

  So, yeah, that just added onto the pressure I already felt.

  With a deep sigh, I sat up in bed and squinted my eyes against the harsh morning light. I picked up my phone from the nightstand and glanced at the clock. Eight a.m. The concert wasn’t until six o’clock this evening so I still had a few hours to spare before my nerves really began to spiral out of control. Right before I placed my phone down, it buzzed in my hand. It was a text from my best friend Melissa.

  Up and at ‘em, gorgeous babe.

  I smiled at the text and then rubbed the sleepiness from my eyes before responding with Well, you’re right about that. I am gorgeous.

  The next text came in almost immediately. I knew you were going to say that. How’s this? Get your ass out of bed.

  Something I loved about Melissa was that she was very straight forward and didn’t take any crap from anybody. And that included me. But, she was one of my best friends and I could always count on her for anything. She was an art major and that’s how I met her. Since I took my music lessons on the college campus, I ran into her, literally, one day when she walked out of her Humanities Through the Arts class. When we met, we just clicked and have been friends ever since. I knew that she would be there cheering me on tonight, along with my family.

  Laughing at the text put pressure on my bladder and made me realize that I had to pee. So, it looked like I had to face the inevitable anyway and get my fabulous ass out of bed. Sending back a quick reply that simply read Bite me, I sighed and walked to the bathroom.

  After my bladder was happy and I was properly showered, I started a pot of coffee and scrounged around in my kitchen for something decent to eat for breakfast. It seemed like I had not only neglected visiting my family lately, but I had also neglected to go grocery shopping. A heavy knocking on the door caused my head to snap around, almost giving me whiplash.

  Curious as to who would be beating down my door at this ungodly hour in the morning, I walked over and peeked through the peephole. A huge grin formed on my face, as I saw who it was.

  “Zach! What are you doing here?” I said as I unlocked and opened the door, letting my brother inside.

  “Well, I had some free time this morning so I thought I’d come see you since we still hadn’t set a lunch date. I brought breakfast.” A dimpled grin was visible on his face as he held up the box of donuts before setting them on the kitchen table.

  “Only you would consider crazy amounts of sugar and carbs a nutritious breakfast.” I rolled my eyes and walked over to the cabinet, pulling out two plates. “You want coffee? I just made some.”

  “Hey, no one said anything about a nutritious breakfast,” He said with a chuckle. “Hell yeah, I want coffee. Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

  I smirked and got down two cups, filling them with coffee, but leaving room in mine for some cream. Turning around, I walked back toward the table and set the cups down. “Now, give me one of those sugar-infested things. I’m starving.”

  Zach smiled and pushed the box toward me, after he had already shoved two donuts into his mouth.

  We really were the exact opposites of each other. Growing up, Zach had always been the jock type, while I was the more theatrical one. Obviously. He had taken after our mother and had her hazel eyes, while my eyes were blue like our father.

  The only thing we seemed to have in common was our blond hair, but even that wasn’t a big similarity since I bleached mine a different shade and was always highlighting it with crazy colors. The next color on my list that I wanted to try was a vibrant teal. For right now, though, it was just blond.

  We sat in silence while we ate– my mind repeating and slightly obsessing over the notes for my cello piece. After a few minutes, I finally snapped out of it and asked Zach how work was going for him. He was a physical trainer and he also did personal training for members at the local gym on the side. Zach was all about helping people; he had one of the biggest hearts of anyone I knew.

  “Work is going great. I know the football thing didn’t work out for me like I wanted it to, but working with people who need help and knowing that I’m making a difference in their lives is a great feeling, Gabe. And the personal training is goin’ good, too, you know? I love helping people. I had one dude come to me who was about seventy pounds overweight and I helped him lose all of it plus helped him build some muscle. He told me that I changed his life… and saved it.”

  I could see the excitement in his eyes as he told me about his job and it made me happy to know that he was doing something that he loved. Life was just too short to spend it being miserable.

  “You ready for the show tonight?” His voice pulled me out of my thoughts and my stomach instantly did flips at the mention of my performance.

  “Uh, yeah. I’m totally ready.” I traced the rim of my coffee cup with the pad of my thumb as I bit the inside of my cheek.

  “Liar,” Zach said and grabbed another donut. “Look, Gabe. I know how nervous you are. You’ve never had an audience bigger than just me, Dad, and Mom before. That’s another reason why I stopped by this morning. You need to chill the hell out. You’ll be great.” I looked up at him, feeling a wave of emotion smack me in the heart. His expression was one of concern and love, and then he smiled and continued, “Why don’t we put on Sex and the City? That might help ease you up some.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at the fact that he had remembered that’s my favorite TV show. It didn’t matter that I had watched all six seasons and both movies countless times, I would never get sick of it. Ever. Those four women were downright fabulous and we were all best friends– in my head anyway. Out of the four, I was most like Carrie Bradshaw. My love for fashion and shoes were spot-on. The only difference was, well... I was a man. I had figured it out in my head that my friend Melissa was the most like Miranda Hobbs. She refused to comment on my keen observation, though.

  “You actually want to sit through Sex and the City? Are you sure that you aren’t the gay brother?” I laughed as an odd expression crossed his face and then he playfully punched me on the shoulder and walked over to my television. We started with the first season and by the time the second episode started, Zach was already snoring on the couch beside me. I shook my head and continued watching.

  Even though I hadn’t told him, I was thrilled that Zach had wanted to spend the day with me. It was unexpected and exactly what I had needed. It also worked out perfectly that my work had given me the whole day off to prepare and relax. My manager was awesome. I gradually started to get my nerves in check and excitement began to swirl in the pit of my stomach. A
few hours, and many episodes later, it was show time.

  ***

  I stood backstage, bouncing up and down on my heels to try and shake off the nerves. My friend Chris was on stage right now, playing a popular piece by Beethoven on the piano, and he was definitely kicking some ass. The way his hands moved across the keys made it sound as if more than one pair of hands was playing. The melody was bright and whimsical and… what was I saying? Come on, Gabe. You can do this. Focus. I thought to myself.

  Zach had dropped me off here about an hour and a half ago, giving me some time to practice before the show. I had told him that I didn’t mind driving myself, but he had obviously tuned me out. After dropping me off at the auditorium, Zach had gone to pick up my father, and now they were both sitting in the audience, waiting for my turn to perform. My stomach did little flips knowing that they were here.

  “Gabriel, you’re up next,” The music director said to me as he peeked his head around the corner with a headset on. I nodded and grabbed my cello, trying to visualize the notes in my mind. Something weird about me was that I didn’t like using sheet music during the performance. I used it long enough to learn the song and then I didn’t use it again after that. For one reason, it made it difficult to really feel the music if I was staring at a piece of paper the entire time. For another reason, it just felt right to not use sheet music. It felt freer.

  Whenever I played, I felt like my mother was still with me, still smiling at me with that same adoring smile on her beautiful face. Sometimes I swear I could even hear her voice humming along to the tune I was playing. The cello I used now was the one that once belonged to her. After her death, Dad said that he knew she would have loved for me to have it, since it was a love we had shared. I felt close to her again when I played, remembering how she taught me how to play from the heart.