On that Sunday afternoon, there was a free concert in the countryside near Poitiers. A very stripped down concert: just a guitar and its amp. Volume at 10. Gain at 6. As for the audience, the few cows in the nearby meadow. They didn’t have the luxury of running away like all the wild animals in the area.
The musician was in his 1980s hair band revival phase. Unexpected, if you judged him only by his appearance. A white shirt, half open. Cheap glasses. Well-combed short hair. The only thing that disturbed the perfect family man’s appearance was a gust of wind that blew his hair out of place.
Being able to play as loud as he wanted – and outdoors – was one of the little things he considered priceless. One of the main reasons he never wanted to live in the city again. Playing guitar in the middle of a meadow, the sun warming his face, he was the happiest man in the world.
His children played near the front of the house. One of those games where only they knew the rules. They, too, played an essential part in his happiness. He could not have imagined how much before their birth. Their mother appeared in the doorway. He looked at the three of them out of the corner of his eye. Yes, his life was truly perfect now. It couldn’t get any better. He closed his eyes and started to play his favorite song with a smile.
Soon he felt a presence behind him. He continued to play, but the presence became more insistent. Something touched his back. He put down the guitar and turned around. His oldest son was gesturing right beside him. Nathan grinned. Anthony was dancing to his music. How cute!
Anthony continued to dance even though the music had stopped. The child pointed to the sides of his head and made faces. Nathan finally realized he still had his headphones on. He took them off.
“Daddy!!! Mom’s calling you! She says it’s important. You have to come right away!”
They never came to disturb him in those moments. The mother of his children was still standing in the doorway. This time he noticed the look on her face, and she did not share the fullness of the moment. Not at all.
“Honey, what’s wrong?”
“They called…”
“Who is ‘they’?”
“You said you had cut off all contact with them. You promised you wouldn’t go back. You promised!”
Tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. He didn’t try to hold back his, either.
“Honey… I…”
When he made that promise, he really thought he could keep it. He was sure that they would never call him back. Now he also knew that he had no choice but to answer their call.
The worst part was that the evening – perhaps his last evening with his family – was the opposite of what he had hoped for. Tears. Distress. The children’s confusion. And new promises made that would be hard to keep.
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Author(s)
Frenchman, exiled on the other side of the planet, DavidB writes. It's not always very good, but who cares, the goal is to write. Sometimes, he also does other things.
MetaStructure is one of his longest-running projects. It was started in the early 2000s. Stopped many times. Started over a few times. Let's hope this time is the right one.
NT
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