Played like a Guitar - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

"Hey, slow down, I can barely walk." - Jamie complained, grabbing his painfully full stomach.
"Stop crying, it's only a few blocks away." We slowed down the pace even though I was so used to walking rapidly with my active lifestyle, always rushing to be on time. Its odd how stress-free I felt considering the numerous assignment deadlines set mere days away. It's important to take a step back every once and a while, and stop stressing out. I guess we're all too busy finishing our responsibilities that we forget the little things in life that matter.
"That's why I chose this career path. I can't imagine myself running to an office everyday only to be glued to a desk for hours. Instead, I do things my way, where I want, whenever I want. I'm grateful for our success and that we managed to make a name of ourselves, knowing there are countless artists out there struggling to make ends meet. Maybe I'll raise a fund to help them out once I retire, but there's one hell of a journey to be completed until then." - he said optimistically.
His plans made me feel subtly worse about mine. He had a clear vision in mind, whereas I was finishing my studies, having zero clue whatsoever as to what would come afterwards. What if I don't find a job after all these years of hard work? All of my parent's money, down the drain they go...Okay, I need to chill and leave the existentialism for later. Who says I can't be successful?
"That would definitely be an amazing conclusion to your career, helping the youth out. Seems like you have it all figured out. Can't relate personally." - I chuckled rather anxiously.
"It's not like I just planned it all out in a second! My parents protested against my artistic pursuits for obvious reasons. They wanted me to become a man of respect, a lawyer, a pilot, a successful businessman but it's not what I envisioned for myself. Instead of wanting people to look at me from below, I simply wished to be happy, nothing more, nothing less." - he noted, and I sincerely believed him.
Even though he probably had more cash than he needed, he certainly didn't behave or look like a spoiled rich brat. His shoes, clothes and watch did not appear to be designer. It's not that he dressed badly, hell no, he could wear a garbage bag and still look better and more confident than I could ever while wearing my best clothes, it's just that he did not appear to be the rich "in-your-face" type, which proved his intentions matched his words. Respect.
We marched towards the center of a small town square with old-school cafés, expensive local boutiques, a christian church and museum. I never dared to enter the boutiques, even for window shopping, as the pieces were worth more than my entire existence, mostly reserved for special buyers, and the employees would always give me that judgmental stare as to why I was entering it in the first place when I can't even afford the cheapest item.
"I know I keep messing up your precious schedule, but could we stop by the church for a minute so I can light up a candle for my grandpa?" - he pointed his thumb towards the dark brown wooden church porch. I gestured back for him to lead the way. Compared to the monumental cathedrals that represented Rome's sacred religious commitment, the one we entered appeared particularly minuscule despite its average size. The mahogany pews and dark candelabras combined with the faint light piercing through the navy blue and yellow mosaics gave it an almost haunting, abandoned feeling. A grand chandelier embellished in gold with hundreds of tiny candles hung above our heads with engaging iconography, at the very end of a staircase featuring a dwarf-sized statue of Jesus.
He made a sign of the cross and placed a kiss on one of the icons, inserting a coin below and taking a taper candle for himself. We approached the plates containing beeswax and dozens more, adding his to the burning bunch, respecting the soothing silence of the holy setting. I didn't consider myself as extremely religious per say, but the feeling of security and calmness that these halls provided were hard to explain. You're not required to believe in God(s) to sense that internal peace within yourself, that state of serenity and soundness, no matter what atrocities you may have committed in the past. Staring at the fire, I wondered what the story was behind all those people, including his grandfather. His telepathy proved to be quicker once more.
"He passed away years ago while I was still in elementary school. When my parents told me what happened after I came back, I felt awful, but not entirely surprised. I was just a kid, I didn't know what dying meant at the time. He was very old, could barely walk on his own, and my parents knew it was only a matter of time before..." - he paused briefly, and I returned an empathetic nod. "In fact, that night before he passed away, we had one last guitar lesson where I played him all the songs he taught me over the years. For the first time in my life, I saw Sullivan cry. I think he knew he didn't have much time left, almost like a premonition. His friends described him as a tough and strict guy but he never behaved that way with Malory and I. He lived a long, fruitful life, got to travel a lot, helped out a bunch of folks selflessly, and I look up to him for that. In fact, he served the British Armed Forces and used to play the guitar for his fellow comrades, to celebrate those who survived to see another day, and commemorate the fallen. Many of them didn't make it, except for one. Oh, that reminds me, we forgot to text him our whereabouts." We? Who was he talking about? He noticed my confused look, grinning while sending a text to this mysterious person. "Old man Ben, of course." - he clarified, as if it was totally obvious.
"Hold up, Mr. Benjamin was your grandpa's friend?" - I gasped at the unexpected revelation.
"Yeah, those two date way back. They were basically inseparable after the war ended ever since my grandpa took a bullet for him. Then he met grandma, they moved to Galway, got married and didn't see each other much ever since. Even decades later, Ben kept sending him gifts and postcards from the U.K. as tokens of gratitude. So once grandpa passed away, he still had the urge to return the favor to my family somehow and offered to be my chauffeur now that he's a retired travel junkie. One hell of a legend, that old fossil of a man! He treats me and Malory like grandchildren he never had. I told him to have the rest of the day off, by the way." - he informed me.
"Let him walk for a bit, it's a lovely day. For all we know he may find himself a lonely Italian lady along the way." - I laughed at the possibility.
"Yeah, don't be so sure about that. He's not exactly the romantic type. Never dated, never got married. Maybe it's the trauma from the war, who knows?" A few speculations crossed my mind, but didn't wish to dwell into their past.
"Who's the favorite grandchild, you or Mal?" - I wondered, but my bets were on the latter even though the first one got my attention.
"Ha! Why me, of course." - he laughed just the way I thought he would whenever his ego was compromised, but I tried keeping a straight face to get the real answer. "Okay, dad and Ben have a soft spot for Mal cuz she's all young and sweet, well, pretends to be at least, but mum and grandpa Sully knew better than to fall for that little booger's act." - he said, but despite his slight narcissism, I'm pretty sure he loved her just as much as they all did. You can just see it by the way his eyes glow at the mention of her name, that brotherly love. "Her and Ben are really close too...he takes her on trips around Ireland whenever we'd come back. He would just inform our parents in advanced and leave with her for a day or two. They'd come back with a bunch of souvenirs, shopping bags, and lasting memories above all. She was madly attached to Sully while growing up, so I guess she sees a bit of grandpa in Ben. We all do...God, I wish he was here." - he exhaled, staring at the sole candle. Where is he though? Is his spirit watching over us as we're speaking? If so, how does it see without eyes? Was he been reborn as another life form on a distant planet? Is he stuck in an ethereal dream, never to wake up from it?
"Oh, I wish I had someone like that while growing up. You know, it's rare for teens to spend so much time with their grandparents. I know I haven't, with my Greek ones at least. They show so much love for me back in Thess whenever they'd come from their little villages, but it's hard for me to pretend like we're all one big loving family when I've only met them a handful of times. We barely even know each other..." - I exhaled in turn, wishing my family circumstances were different too. We stood in a comfortable silence briefly, paying respects to the fallen.
"Do you believe in God?' - he broke it.
"Well, yes and no. I don't believe there is one for specific concepts like the Hindus or ancient Greeks, nor do I believe it's one tall, bearded guy who designed every little living detail of this universe. I think of it as a sort of spirit or shapeless entity, that somehow caused all of this. People attribute the emergence of life to the Big Bang, which may be true, but what happened before that?" - I tried visualizing the beginning but it was far beyond the scope of my frail intellectual capacity.
"If you're saying this entity caused the Big Bang, then what created it?" - he questioned the logic behind my theory.
"And that's where my personal theory, or any for that matter, ends. I have no idea, nor am I educated enough to make assumptions on such topics. The universe is too large and complex to be fully understood. Hell, the Sun will probably burn out before we find out. Either way though, if it helps people sleep at night, I'm fine with all religions, really. It sure helped me fight my fear of death. You don't see me screaming and shaking now as we're speaking. What about you, what do you think?" - I asked, intrigued by the conversation.
"I don't know, I haven't given it much thought. I was born in a religious and traditional family, so I wasn't exactly allowed to question any of it as a kid. We went to churches on weekends, celebrated religious holidays throughout the year, followed sacred traditions so it seemed like the normal thing to do back then. You do the sign, you kiss the icon, you put on Christmas trees, you fast on certain days, but you never ask yourself why. The answer would be yes, I believe in God, but it's the easiest way to answer. You say yes, you move on and never think about it again." - he elaborated on the thought.
"That's true, we were taught to light up candles for the dead as a form of respect and appreciation for everything they've done, yet from a scientific point of view, there's no way they could possibly be aware of this. For all we know, we're just wasting resources and time for the dead." - I spoke quietly while observing the icons of various Saints all around us, clueless to the stories behind them.
"Exactly, that's the thing about religion, especially extremely religious groups like monks for example, they spend their whole lives following strict rules to either go to Heaven, or be reborn under better conditions when it's uncertain what comes after. It's scary, the more you think about it. You can have a monk, who willingly refrains himself from committing wrongdoings, and instead meditates and prays for days, convincing himself that his reincarnated form will be directly rewarded for his dedication. Then after his last breath, nothing happens! You see, it's quite a difficult choice to make. On the other hand, you might have an atheist criminal who robbed dozens of banks and spent other people's money selfishly, reach the same faith." - he dwelt deeper into the matter.
"Or maybe we're simply trying to convince ourselves we're good people. You spent that coin earlier to buy candles, and you're dedicating your time now to boost your impression of yourself. You feel better now that you've lit up a candle for your grandpa, right?" - I asked confidently, and he nodded. "The same thing can be applied to superstitions and rituals. If I don't knock on wood twice after commenting on how my health improved this month, will a virus suddenly decide to hope into my immune system? Certainly not, but people still do it because it's what they've been taught from an early age and it makes them feel safer."
"That's the idea behind it. Damn, I'm really glad you came by, Westwood. Haven't had conversations like these in a while. By the way, I recommend we leave pronto, wouldn't wanna miss everything you've prepared for me today."
The museum's glamorous renaissance architecture left us both speechless, a stunning grayish-white building with tall pillars, statues of famous artists carved on top with beautiful patterns embellishing its walls. Judging by Jamie's intrigued expression, he was probably wondering what historical treasures and relics were hiding inside, gathered from all over the world since the beginning of mankind. We were fortunate enough that the lines were shorter than usual, as most people were still at work and visitors mostly comprised of tourists. He asked me to find us a map of the interior, as visitors were advised to follow a specific chronological order of the rooms. It didn't take me long to realize that he used it as an excuse to pay for the tickets. Highly annoyed, I tried handing him my share of the fee, but he refused instantly, claiming he would have missed this museum if it weren't for me. Nonetheless, I took the opportunity to secretly stash my part inside his backpack as we handed them in for security inspection.
We debated over hiring a tour guide, but we opted to roam around at our own pace instead, observing whatever catches our attention along the grandiose galleries. Plus, we didn't have much time to spare, and I wasn't exactly sure when he was leaving.
The first room featured extremely old fossils, weapons, and tools our great ancestors crafted and used for survival during the Stone Age. It also included preserved bones, skulls and an impressive interactive display allowing the user to compare and learn about every individual piece and its history. Although I personally didn't enjoy reading every single detail museums had to offer, I couldn't help but reflect on how lucky I was to be alive at this time, where access to basic needs has never been easier in this part of the world at least.
"Can you imagine yourself as a caveman from the Paleolithic era? Waking up every morning, not knowing if you'll be able to find food or be hunted by some other prey instead. I'm too lazy to go to the fridge, let alone hunt animals for hours in a forest full of snakes and tigers!" I pictured O'Dea wearing fur and painting animals in our cave with the blood of his preys. It appears his presence made any scenario more pleasant.
"Hunt or be hunted, I guess. Either way, it's because of their strength that we are standing here today. With so little alternatives at the time, they relied on instincts and their only goals were to reproduce and sustain themselves. We have our families, friends, education, career to worry about, so we take for granted all our basic needs such as food, water, and shelter. Thankfully, our brain size increased, and we created language, allowing us to make tools and interact with each other in groups. It's how we had an advantage over other species." Even if he was spitting textbook facts, I adored discovering the way his beautiful mind worked. Such a genuinely intriguing person. I secretly hoped the museum had thousands of rooms left for me to enjoy his company and commentary.
"For me, it's scary how much we advanced over the past century in terms of technology, yet I haven't got a clue of how any of it actually works. If someone made me travel back in time, to show cavemen how to build a house, generate electricity, forge weapons, I wouldn't be able to explain any of it! It shows how little we know about the world around us...I feel so stupid right now." - I confessed shamefully. The deeper I reflected on it, the more I wished to read every book and encyclopedia in the world and learn everything there is to know, just to feel capable and informed.
"Hey, don't worry about it. That's why we have personal interests, everyone follows their own path and specializes in it, so we can share what we learned with others. You don't need to excel in everything to feel good about yourself, just think about all the brain-dead celebrities out there living their best lives. Now, I'm not going to name any but I'm pretty sure you got the idea." - he winked at me, making me feel slightly less shitty about myself. His fiancee was one of them, for example, but there was no need to bring that up right now. "Besides, I'm not any better than you when it comes to general knowledge, it's all about the way you say it. If you sound confident, you'd be surprised by how many people will believe you. Still skeptical? Look." He walked to an elderly couple observing what looked like a prehistoric stone hunting blade.
I was both worried and interested in his plan involving those innocent people. I overheard him asking: "Did you know that these were in fact used for them to sharpen their nails, making it easier to peel off fruit?" The old couple nodded in awe, as if it made perfect sense. He rushed back to me trying not to laugh, but instead failed miserably and made the couple look at us in confusion, realizing they were subjects of a poorly designed experiment. "See, it's all about confidence!" He always made me stretch my eye muscles, as they were just constantly rolling when I was around him. What an idiot. He was right, but an idiot, nevertheless.
Before getting our asses kicked by a pair of walking canes (again!), we entered the next room, which consisted of ancient Egyptian artifacts exhibited for a limited time. It contained anything you'd expect when thinking about Egypt: sarcophagi for both pharaohs and animals, golden statues, uncovered fragments of papyrus and iconic hieroglyphs. I approached the display which described the hidden meanings behind every symbol and how they connect to the relevant historical moments. A pair of unique blue-green eyes were carefully analyzing common myths about the pyramids written on a huge poster.
"Some people think aliens built them, since it's almost impossible for humans to have achieved something so grandiose at the time. What do you think?" - I asked him even if I didn't personally believe that, but it was certainly a more exciting approach to the mystery. For some reason, anything involving extraterrestrials or spirits intrigued me. I should probably consult my therapist about that.
"Aliens, or slavery on another level? I'd rather go with the latter. Plus, I can't imagine a slimy green creature saying 'Oh, I have an idea out of this world. How about we stack huge piles of rocks to impress stupid little humans in the future!'." – his imitation of an alien resembled a person having a seizure. Yikes.
"Agreed, but why would they torture thousands of souls for twenty years just to bury rich people sitting on their asses all day? I understand wanting to rest in a super fancy grave, but was it really worth the pain and suffering they caused onto others?" - I found that hard to believe.
"I'm pretty sure if you were born as a noble, got served by slaves your entire life, you wouldn't feel empathy towards them one bit once the throne was yours. It's scary what people can do with enough power and control over others. The slaves were used to it, knew of nothing else and didn't really have the privilege of choosing their destinies. It was either serve your superiors, or be killed." - he reached a safe conclusion.
The know-it-all and I roamed the rest of the interior before coming across a unique modestly-preserved sarcophagus of some upper-class leader I've (obviously) never heard of before. His life story was presented chronologically with their characteristic symbols and images. To my relief, it was closed as I get anxious around anything related with graveyards, tombs, and death in general. Jamie swiped the screen next to it, reading further into the story, only to come across a picture of what remained inside. I turned around instantly, petrified by the disturbing image of a decomposed body, extracted straight out of a horror movie.
"Won't be getting that out of my mind anytime soon, thanks." – I notified him before leaving the room. He quickly caught on to me, asking what happened. Once I reminded him of my little thanatophobia issue, he apologized sincerely, causing me to feel bad about my abrupt reaction.
The truth was, we were still getting to know each other so he didn't take my fear into account when browsing the images. Now that I think about it, we were both acting as if we've been...um, friends, for years now. The only possible explanation was that we both felt connected somehow, just two highly compatible individuals separated by circumstance. Not even going to mention the fact that the man's engaged for Christ's sake. What I expect to happen remains a mystery, but at the moment his company filled my heart with joy so there was no reason to stop it. Let's just see where it goes, the whole point was to improve on where we left things off previously.
"It's no big deal, I just get frightened whenever I see human skeletons and remains. A reminder that we're flesh and bones underneath, but I choose to believe we're more than just that. I remember thinking how I was a part of some simulation, where people were actors programmed to behave according to my actions and that only I could really see the world. That perhaps I was a part of some godly experiment designed to test human behavior under different conditions, to identify how our choices define our future. It feels weird saying this out loud, one of those things that go through your mind but you keep them to yourself so you don't get sent straight to an asylum." - I confessed the random belief.
"Why is it so difficult for us humans to accept the concept of mortality and ordinariness?" - he sounded almost annoyed at my revelation.
"It gives little meaning to life I guess, and people don't like that. We need purpose, a greater cause, a happy ending." - I suggested in vain as he didn't seem convinced. "Okay, it's easy for you to roll your eyes when you've already found your purpose in life at such a young age. Where would you be now if it weren't for music, huh?"
"I don't dwell on alternatives, nor do I make music to prove that my life has a purpose, I do it because I'm passionate about it, because it makes life worth living for." - he answered in his typical supercilious nature. There's no use quarreling with him, he's just going to continue coming up with arguments like an obnoxious lawyer, even when he knows he's wrong. However, his words still lingered deep down into the depths of my heart, making me wonder: what is my purpose in life? For him the answer was crystal clear, written on a flashing neon sign ever since he was born: 'Music!', but what about mine? I don't see Sociology being my ultimate end goal, so what else is there? I don't have a hobby I'm extremely fond of, nor do I have some great plan for the future. Did I miss out on something important? Were my parents to blame for not finding my hidden talents early on? Curse you Jamie for sending me into another spiral of destructive thinking!
After consulting the map, we went straight to the medieval era, skipping some rooms we found less amusing on our way there as we were pressured by the clock. The sight of a dozen knight armors, weapons ranging from swords to shields, and large frescoes on each wall, sent our imaginations to stone keep castles. There was even a small projector room where they played replications of the infamous jousting duels, reminding me of "Monty Python and The Holy Grail". Every piece was so uniquely designed that we just couldn't resist checking them all out. However, none of them could compare to the ginger knight in shining armor standing only a few feet away, unconsciously teasing me with his intoxicating cologne. Something intriguingly amusing caught my eyes, causing me to push his back towards it. It was a small photo booth located right next to a small rent-a-costume, where you could dress up as witches, knights, princes, and jesters.
"No. Freaking. Way. I LOVE THESE, we've got to go!" - I pushed him towards it, way more excited than he appeared to be.
"Seriously? We're in a museum full of art and historical wonders, yet you freak out over a random photo booth and stupid toddler costumes?" - he looked at me utterly unimpressed, ruining my mood simultaneously. But before I started fake crying, he changed his expression into a bright smile, responding "Hell yes." Observing him putting on a fluffy crown, red cape and wooden sword made my jaw drop. His immaturity ceased to surprise me, yet it only made my obsession with him even stronger.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get in!" - he took the liberty of choosing a sorcerer's hat, purple robe and a magic wand for me, visibly eager to see me try it on. The space inside the booth was even smaller than it looked, scooped next to each other like a pack of sardines. To my surprise, he put his left arm behind my neck to make the small interior feel slightly more comfortable. Brilliant idea. The screen offered us a selection of photo options, but we opted for regular Polaroids printed together.
"Okay, angry face first!" - he showed his bright clenched teeth, pushing his wooden sword against my neck, as if the cunning sorcerer was about to be slain by the daring knight. I tried pretending to be afraid but ended up dying of laughter instead, unable to take his stupid face seriously. The camera flashed, leaving us a few seconds to change positions.
"Hey, stop laughing, the machine is about to take another one!" I shoved my elbow against his hip right before the second flash, causing him to jump and throw his sword. Can't wait to see the look on his face on that one!
"Why'd you do that for?! I was trying to pose!" - he cried, so I stuck my wand up his nose while he was too busy babbling like an old lady. Third photo complete. He pulled my head up against his chest, his arm around my neck, messing with my hair. Flash. Oh, this is war alright! We poked and tickled each other to death, both equally determined to make the other look as foolish as possible. Then he touched an extremely sensitive spot near my belly, causing me to fall behind the curtains, an instance before the last picture was taken.
The employee, visibly annoyed, ordered us to leave the booth at once or else she would call security. All visitors glanced our way, well technically mine since Jamie was nowhere to be seen. His roaring laughter echoed from the booth throughout the room and my embarrassment was immeasurable. His face was as red as a tomato once he gathered the audacity to leave it, giving the employee a tip without saying a word. The photos were even sillier than we thought, each continuously more hilarious than the previous. He decided to keep the last one in which my upper body was missing as I stumbled outside onto the floor. Apparently, the machine took a secret picture before we even started, where he was readjusting his crown while I was staring at him like a dog drooling over a bone. I'll make sure to steal that one from him later, even though a Polaroid couldn't possibly replace the way he made my body feel so light and warm. It was in moments like these that I kept asking myself if he was destined to be my greatest mistake, or heaven on Earth?