Played like a Guitar - Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Ever since I started questioning the world and its many mysteries in my late teens, one of the things that kept me up at night was the peculiar topic of one's own destiny and the ability to control it. Sometimes I'd think God created each and every one of us to serve a specific purpose, and carefully planned out every interaction, event and circumstance in order for the person to reach their ultimate goal, including the hardships from which they learn, and the moments of personal blossom and internal bliss. Not unlike a computer programmed to fulfill its tasks, following complex coding and numerical values.
But then I'd wonder why some children die at birth right before their first breath, or others pass away unexpectedly in unforeseen accidents. They couldn't have possibly fulfilled their purpose, or was that their purpose all along? To die, in order to alter someone else's course of development? The possibility of it sounded almost too morbid to be true. Why do some live prosperously with successful careers and healthy relationships, when others do not even have their basic needs satisfied?
But then you start wondering if you just happen to be born in this world, in this time, out of pure coincidence, where you're nothing but a brain and spinal cord surrounded by organs and tissues, where it comes down to nothing but a time-limited game of survival where you make the most out of everyone and everything just to end up with a mostly satisfying end result. In this case, you really do have some control over your fate, and the fate of others, which ultimately means that there are infinite possibilities based on the hundreds of mini decisions we make each day - and that shit is scary.
One thing was certain though: life is bittersweet, and I've learned to savor the sweet parts before the bitterness could ruin its delicious taste. There is a cost to everything, a fee if you will, and ironically, even for things that do not necessarily come with a price at first glance. Certainly, this also works both ways: after the storm comes a beautiful rainbow, but even after you've reached the end of it, there is a pot of gold with no return to the colorful ride. A one-way ticket. I find it both a blessing and a curse to have reached such a level of self-awareness. Yes, on one hand, you tend to take into consideration your future when making decisions, and you learn to appreciate the little things in life that others may neglect. However, this also comes with a price: you're putting constant pressure on your past, present and future self, every minute of your life. For a young adult like myself, this can be pretty overwhelming. Like, holy shit, why can't I just be dumb and happy? I don't know if it was all God's plan, or a combination of genetics and circumstances, but I guess my path was not meant to be an easy one. That's what I found out, soon after our first encounter.
Living in my dad's childhood home was a cultural shock to say the least, but a pleasant one as I admired the stunning scenery from the grand balcony. When comparing it to our terraced house back in Manchester, it was definitely an upgrade that would take some time getting used to nevertheless. The spacious interior illuminated naturally by daylight made me feel like I was living on another planet in contrast to my mother's compact claustrophobia-inducing home, not to mention the grey sky and constant drizzles that came with it. A perfect way to start off my first year of college here in Thessaloniki: a freshly-renovated apartment my dad set up for us before my arrival, new friendly faces and intriguing courses waiting to be dived in. Most importantly, so many stunning places to explore in this city of oversized balconies and antenna-filled rooftops. Lost in the blue image, I wondered if other people viewed the same color through their lenses, one of the many abstract thoughts that pass through my mind on a daily basis.
Now that I think about it, how on Earth did I manage to spend eighteen years of my life in a hometown with no street left unexplored, no novel locations left to visit, knowing every corner like the back of my hand, without ending up in a mental facility? The repetitive dull walk to the metro station I could easily take blindfolded with familiar faces in the crowded carriages, the same old monotonous routine everyday. The world was too big to stay in one place but I didn't have a legitimate reason to leave until recently. I imagined a world map of all the places I visited until now, with only a minuscule fraction of it highlighted in neon yellow, the rest waiting to be colored in the nearby future. My only goal was to finish college, find a fulfilling job that wouldn't feel like a chore, receive a decent paycheck and save most of it for mini world-tours during breaks.
Ready to start over, I pushed the reset button on my life as I couldn't stand the gloomy weather and hanging out with the same people for years in the exact same places repeatedly. It wasn't an easy decision, but my parents decided it was best for me to stay in England with my mother after their divorce years ago. That is, until I finished high school, after which I could travel all the way across Europe to this glorious, economically-devastated place for a fresh start.
The divorce was a difficult period for the three of us, but it was for the family's best, at least that's what my parents tried to convince me when I was younger. "Don't worry Noah, mommy and daddy still love each other, but daddy needs to go work far away from home." - she'd say to console me. The latter was true, since dad couldn't find a job in England, and financial issues were the cause of the frequent arguments they had late at night. She was the man in the house, the only one with a stable income which gave her power and a sense of control over their marriage. Thus, she proved to be too bossy even for him to handle, who is generally regarded as an easy-going and patient person. Although he had a family business waiting for him in Thessaloniki, he chose love over his career, but it didn't go exactly according to plan.
Staying in that lonely house with my mother felt unbearable these last few years, as I was your typical teenager, rebelliously wishing for more independence while sharing space with a total control freak with privacy issues. She strictly monitored which dates I had class tests on so as to make sure I was well-prepared, what grade I got on each one, had a full contact list of all my friends, their parents, cousins, distant-relatives in case of emergency, and used to drop me off to school even when I had a raging fever. A hawk watching my every move, nothing escaping her sight. Deep down, I knew all along she just couldn't accept the fact that her only child was slowly becoming an adult and ready to take on the world on my own. At times I was convinced she secretly wished I could transform into a baby so she could take care of me all over again and never leave her site. I will never forget the first time I saw her shedding a tear: the moment I handed in my documents at the airport passport control and waved her goodbye. I remember thinking it'd be the greatest moment of my life - breathing the fresh air of liberty and independence, but I found it rather bittersweet. In those few seconds, her mother instict rammed hard against the tough brick wall she'd been building for years ever since the divorce, reducing it to dust. Like any mother, she only desired the best but this was an important turning point in my life and there was no holding me back.
I couldn't wait for classes to start as I was fed up spending hours studying subjects I couldn't care less about in high school. This time I had full control, choosing Sociology for my bachelor's studies in a private British university only a walking distance away from the apartment. I could enjoy the warm sunshine, gentle sea breeze and salty air every morning on my way to class, accompanied by the occasional protests in the chaotic streets. The city's atmosphere suited me more as the people seemed so relaxed, warm and friendly, without a care in the world, taking their own pace no matter how many responsibilities they might have at hand. Everything is fine, as they would say when running late to work or if a devastating tsunami was bound to destroy the entire city. Not having to take public transportation to class every day drastically changed my mood as it was mostly crowded in Manchester, constantly pressuring me to arrive on time whereas nothing could stop me here from reaching my destinations. It was just me, my random thoughts and favorite playlists.
A life without music is like a rainbow without its colors. It has helped me countless of times in the past with its irreplaceable capability of patting your back during tough times, lifting you up even more during your highs and making you dance in a street full of strangers. It can transfer anything: the confidence of a runway model, the pain of a heartbroken soul, and in most cases the overwhelming nature of falling in love. Couldn't relate to the last part personally but I found the concept intriguing nonetheless. Sometimes I wish the world resembled cheesy Broadway musicals, where you could swing around lamp posts, slide across car roofs and grab strangers for duets along the way. The mass of empty faces hinted at the opposite, so for now I'll stick to my imaginary solo performance. In my head, a music career was too luck-based so I opted for the safer solution I could easily pull off with a bit of hard work and determination. Nowadays with the Internet, the competition skyrocketed tremendously and the chances of me getting recognized were close to none. Besides, I had no impressive singing skills, no talent for creating melodies, just a general love for music which didn't require global recognition I suppose.
The first month living here went even better than expected. I was finally able to spend some quality time with my father who showed me his favorite go-to places in Thessaloniki, including some hidden ones where he would have late-night mischiefs with his friends. I found out one of the reasons why he never returned to Manchester - the emotional connection he had to this place was incredible! He treated me like a newborn baby, like a father who did not get to spend enough time with his only child - who's now turned into a young adult. In reality, it was the other way around: I was the one responsible for cleaning and cooking around the house whereas he would work all day, crack a cold one, crash on the couch, watch TV and hibernate until morning. Gee, I wonder how life would've turned out for me had he been there with us all this time.
The transition from adolescence to young adulthood hit me like a truck, as I started thinking outside of the box, sometimes way too far for my own good. There were no more teachers to guide us by the hand, no more privileges that kids received for being dumb, cute and innocent and the world of employment, bills and responsibilities was waiting for us just around the corner. It certainly wasn't as dark and horrific as I portrayed it to be, but I was aware that these years were the ones responsible for shaping us as individuals and defining our futures, dedicated for heavy drinking and binge partying (according to others) and self-exploration (according to me).
I was ready to fully devote myself to my studies, to compensate for the heavy procrastination in high school, preparing all the recommended textbooks and materials needed in advance for each class. I was also lucky enough to have found some decent friends with whom I could go for coffee and share notes with. A peculiar creature that stood out from the crowd was Elektra Lambros, a gorgeous blonde with brown eyes, shaped ideally according to today's not-so-ideal beauty standards with her hourglass figure. I'd say an accurate description of Miss Lambros would be: 1. absolute batshit crazy, 2. lost in her own lunatic world, and 3. ready to share her entire life story with pretty much anyone, not embarrassed to reveal the slightest details (an open book was my label of choice). You could say we were an interesting match, strangely compatible as I was more conservative and introverted whereas she was extremely sociable and energetic, always planning some shenanigans inside that insane head of hers. She could push me out of my little bubble, and I would mostly focus on bringing her back to planet Earth. I'm still convinced she suffered from a severe head trauma, but she never let me check her skull for any brain deformations.
It all started when she noticed me taking a bunch of unnecessary notes on our first day of class, realizing she could use my smarts and in return she would somehow improve the disaster which was my social life. We had our very first sleepover one night, just listening to music, watching movies, gossiping, all the cliché things teenagers do that I missed out on back in high school. One of the songs had a funky beat with catchy lyrics and El was performing it live on her bed, but I was unfamiliar with the singer's voice. After a quick glance at her laptop's screen, it was a one-hit wonder band called the Midnight Blues whose main track, titled 'Wild', was currently climbing the charts. After a quick Google search, it appears they came from Ireland but thanks to their latest single they managed to have an international breakthrough and 'Wild' stood high on the charts next to famous A-list artists.
Zooming in on their group photos, the lead singer Jessie was every thirsty girl's bad boy dream, with sleek black hair and clear green eyes accompanied by a matching leather jacket. Thirst trap, check. The drummer was a long-haired blonde guy usually sporting a beanie, baggy clothes and printed graphic Tees who seemed to be comfortable laying in the background. On the other hand, a badass girl with purple hair and a bold side shave took over the bass, not someone you'd want to mess around with for sure. And finally, there was the guitar player, a neatly-dressed ginger with a freckled face and mysterious glance. After conducting some further research, I discovered the band was currently going on a European tour and were scheduled to perform here in Thess (the abbreviation I gave to the city sounded cuter out loud) among many other places. Leaving my house to listen to a random one-hit-wonder band did not sound exciting enough, so I closed the tab as their song came to an end.
I spent the rest of the night listening to Elektra's endless exciting (and often unbelievable) adventures, how she almost ended up in jail many times and her countless dramatic breakups. It made me realize how uneventful my life was in comparison. Not that it was bad or anything, just not as exciting. Although Miss Lambros wasn't initially interested in the band, she begged me a week later to join her friends for their gig I read about earlier, where they were set to perform live in a local bar, obsessed over their debut album. It wasn't exactly my cup of tea, and I had assignments to finish in the first place so I cancelled, convincing her I was sick as she would never accept studying as an excuse.
My usual study routine began: making sure every pencil was perfectly sharpened like a needle, highlighting the key elements with my special color coding system and placing the pages and notebooks parallel to the table's sides. Some people might think I go overboard, but it's these little things that helped me stay on track with the curriculum. While I was reading an intriguing chapter on Marxism, my father's voice echoed from the living room, letting me know we had an unexpected guest. To no one's surprise, Elektra showed up at our doorstep an hour before the show - all dolled-up, forcing me to get out of the house.
"El, I told you I can't come tonight, we have a report due on Friday and we covered a lot of new material this week." - I half-lied, my assignment already uploaded online days ago but truth be told, I did have a few chapters left to read.
"Do you really believe I'd fall for such a pathetic lie? Hello, you're talking to the queen of deception and manipulation here." - she reminded me rather proudly, although I wasn't sure others would regard it as a compliment. "Noah, you've got to start living your life! Look at you, sitting at that desk all day! Didn't you say you wanted to start fresh when you came here? Come join us, it will be so much fun, I promise!" - but before I could even respond, she barged into my room and opened my specifically organized closet, scanned all my clothes which were divided into colors, and rudely threw a decent outfit on my face.
"I don't think our ideas of fun are the same based on the stories you shared about your group of hooli- ...ahem, friends I mean!" - I corrected myself quickly.
"Oh come on, that's not fair! Nothing like that will happen tonight, it's just a gig. All you need to do is loosen up a little, and you'll be friends in no time. Who knows, we may even find a hottie who will take you home afterwards." - she sent a pervy wink my way.
"El, you know I'm not into that. I need something more stable, with actual emotions involved, not just some hormonal, sex-driven freak!" - I repeated for the nth time, letting myself fall on the bed.
"Okay, okay, guess I'll have to dig a bit deeper then. But for this to happen, you need to be there physically, you know that right?" - she poked me with her long red nails.
"Whatever, I'm way ahead of my schedule anyways, I deserve a break." - I remember thinking to myself, which felt weird and off-character, considering my almost obsessive adherence to daily routines. I sprinkled an exotic fruity cologne, put on my favorite black Doc Martens combined with a pair of tight black jeans and a cozy wool plaid overshirt, as it wasn't a serious event requiring more formal wear (which, embarrassingly, I didn't even have). Elektra was jumping and screaming in awe, clapping her hands, clearly excited over me looking decent for a change, ready for my first real night out. She on the other hand, was wearing a pair of laced over-the-knee boots, huge circle earrings and a mini red dress, way too short for her own good. Passing through the living room, my dad waited for us at the front door.
"Wow, looking good you two! Are you coming home afterwards, Noah?" - he smiled from ear to ear.
"Don't worry Mr. Westwood, I'll take real good care of your child. We'll be back before midnight!" - she didn't even try to disguise her lie, chuckling at her own words, pulling me towards the exit. He returned her an enthusiastic nod, delighted to see me leave my bedroom for the first time and thanking her for getting me out of the house, as if I were about to relive some of his favorite childhood memories right before we ventured into the night. Sure, he acknowledged all the hard work I put into my studies, but I knew deep down he wished I spent more time causing trouble and living life on the edge like he used to. What can I say? I was raised by his strict workaholic ex-wife.
Little did I know Cupid was waiting for me right around the corner, about to strike a lethal arrow through my chest and turn my world upside down.