Part 4
Part 3
Part 2
The lights of Nashville, the music city, shone
in the distance while Charles was sitting in an old rocking chair
under the porch of a motel. He watched the thousand lights swing on
the surface of the lake while the blue light of the moon broke down
and recomposed them with the help of a gentle breeze.
In the parking lot the traffic of the weekend was intense. A group of guys gathered nearby talking about the next day’s trip. The lake, although not a known tourist resort, was very frequented. The inhabitants of that country, on the contrary, did not consider it a lake, but rather the great river which, like a tired traveler after a long journey, to rest, slowed his run and stretched out before returning its travel to the sea.
Charles listened to every sound coming from the water as if he wanted to feed on it. He opened and closed his eyes in a strange sadness trying to forget the events of the evening, pretending they never happened.
His thoughts were interrupted by the telephone ringing. He knew who was on the other side. He had the instinct to throw it into the lake, but then he decided to answer.
“Where are you?” asked Steven—his agent. “The driver told me you left. Is it true?”
Charles answered confirming his hypothesis.
“You cannot behave like this. Do you know how many people are waiting for you and how many others have worked for this event? You must be professional.”
“Yes, I know,” said Charles. “apologize to everyone, but I won’t be able to perform tonight.”
There was a long silence, then Steven, frantic, resumed talking. “All right. I’ll cancel the concert and put it in line for the others. I’ll announce you felt sick and had to go to the hospital. But tomorrow morning we must meet to plan the next events.”
“There will never be any more events,” Charles replied softly. “I am done with concerts.”
“Are you kidding? You can’t talk like that. We have a lot of work to do and then remember, next month you have to go into the recording studio for perform your work. Everything is already planned.”
A long silence followed. Charles sighed. “I will not enter the recording studio and I will never perform again. My career as a musician ends now.”
“What are you saying? Your career has just begun. We have a lot of work to do. You can’t blow your talent away. You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can do that. After this call I will throw away the phone and you will never find me again.”
“Please wait.” Steven urged him up. “I understand you’re not feel fine now. It happens to a lot of musicians before they start this career. They’re distraught and scared. But then it eventually passing and they understand the many bright sides.” There was a moment of silence. “Take a few days to relax, you will see that fear will pass. I won’t bother you for a few days. I will wait for you to call me.”
“Perhaps I did not explain myself correctly. I won’t call you again. Forget me, I’m sure you’ll find many other musicians ready to take my place.”
Said this, Charles closed the communication, took the phone and threw it away far into the waters of the lake.
In the parking lot the traffic of the weekend was intense. A group of guys gathered nearby talking about the next day’s trip. The lake, although not a known tourist resort, was very frequented. The inhabitants of that country, on the contrary, did not consider it a lake, but rather the great river which, like a tired traveler after a long journey, to rest, slowed his run and stretched out before returning its travel to the sea.
Charles listened to every sound coming from the water as if he wanted to feed on it. He opened and closed his eyes in a strange sadness trying to forget the events of the evening, pretending they never happened.
His thoughts were interrupted by the telephone ringing. He knew who was on the other side. He had the instinct to throw it into the lake, but then he decided to answer.
“Where are you?” asked Steven—his agent. “The driver told me you left. Is it true?”
Charles answered confirming his hypothesis.
“You cannot behave like this. Do you know how many people are waiting for you and how many others have worked for this event? You must be professional.”
“Yes, I know,” said Charles. “apologize to everyone, but I won’t be able to perform tonight.”
There was a long silence, then Steven, frantic, resumed talking. “All right. I’ll cancel the concert and put it in line for the others. I’ll announce you felt sick and had to go to the hospital. But tomorrow morning we must meet to plan the next events.”
“There will never be any more events,” Charles replied softly. “I am done with concerts.”
“Are you kidding? You can’t talk like that. We have a lot of work to do and then remember, next month you have to go into the recording studio for perform your work. Everything is already planned.”
A long silence followed. Charles sighed. “I will not enter the recording studio and I will never perform again. My career as a musician ends now.”
“What are you saying? Your career has just begun. We have a lot of work to do. You can’t blow your talent away. You can’t do that.”
“Yes, I can do that. After this call I will throw away the phone and you will never find me again.”
“Please wait.” Steven urged him up. “I understand you’re not feel fine now. It happens to a lot of musicians before they start this career. They’re distraught and scared. But then it eventually passing and they understand the many bright sides.” There was a moment of silence. “Take a few days to relax, you will see that fear will pass. I won’t bother you for a few days. I will wait for you to call me.”
“Perhaps I did not explain myself correctly. I won’t call you again. Forget me, I’m sure you’ll find many other musicians ready to take my place.”
Said this, Charles closed the communication, took the phone and threw it away far into the waters of the lake.
Far from Nashville - Incipit
Good Hope Hotel
Part 1
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Good Hope Hotel
