He had to go the festival. There was simply no way around it. This was his last chance – to be heard, to have a shot at a career in music. Even if his mother expressed her objection implicitly and explicitly, he had to override it.
As evening came, he packed his instruments, picked his shoes up in his hands unlocked the door with great deliberation and pulled the door behind him with a delicate gentleness one would only show a baby. His friends were waiting for him a little ahead. He walked barefoot till the road and then wore his shoes.
Seeing him walking out of the window frame was his mother. She didn’t seem very upset. Only her mouth tightened a bit, but even she wasn’t sure if she was displeased. There was a strange feeling of pride at his defiance. Was that an acceptable thought for a responsible parent?
She rubbed her fingers in thought for a few seconds. Then, she moved to get changed, grabbed the keys and rode off to the same destination as her son’s.
He finally got a chance to play on stage. Better yet, the audience’s response gave him an adrenaline rush, pushing his artistic boundaries and nourishing his spontaneity. He came backstage dripping with sweat, hugging and celebrating with his friends. As the excitement plateaued, he saw a figure around the corner he never thought he would see. It was his mother talking to a man he didn’t know.
She met his eyes, unsmiling. She stared at him for a few seconds, then said, “I’ll be waiting in the car.” She turned and left as suddenly as she came. He looked at the man she was speaking to in blank surprise.
The man walked towards him. “You don’t know your mother well enough, it seems.” As if sensing his indignance, he chuckled and said, “There are not many top artists she hasn’t worked with in the industry. And they keep desperately trying to invite her back. But she ‘resigned’, about 19 years ago.”
He looked at the boy, raising his eyebrows. The boy couldn’t seem to form thoughts in his head. His mother, who was vehemently against his involvement with music, was an artist herself. “W-why was she here?” he managed to choke out.
“Same reason as why she left, I s’pose,” the man shrugged. Then, he walked to the boy and patted his shoulder. “You’re lucky to have this opportunity. You clearly have talent, but that’s to be expected. Make sure to use it well.”
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