21- Coincidences
September 6, 2016
World Change: World II.
I'm back at the production company with the intention of creating a song. Since my fainting spells are unpredictable, I must make the most of every possible moment. Dakota, on the other hand, has a full schedule today. Ever since we were able to install a makeup studio in our house, things have been better. She is happy with all of this.
Her mother wanted her to continue studying Communication at university. She hoped her daughter would become a graduate, but the truth is she never wanted to study after leaving high school. She would skip classes to take makeup courses, which she paid for with a part-time job she used to have in the afternoons. Her family had to give in. Her father was the most reluctant, but ended up contributing financially to her studies because, in his words, "if this is what you're going to dedicate yourself to, you have to do it like a professional."
Anyway, I walk through the hallways of this building until I reach the door with my name engraved on it. One of our new artists is waiting for me inside. The boy still hasn't grounded himself, but it's not my job to set him straight. I'm not a psychologist, just a producer and writer.
"Alright, Trevor. Today we'll record the background vocals for the chorus. Got it?"
"Is it really necessary? What a bother," he questions, sprawled out on the studio couch. "Just lower the volume of what we already recorded, and that's it. Less work for you and me. A win-win, bro."
Although this insolent brat could benefit from a few therapy sessions with my mom…
I keep my comments to myself and instead tell him to get behind the microphone. It's a struggle to get him out of his seat, but he gives in once I promise to buy him a Frappuccino after finishing the recording. This kid really is spoiled.
Goals are achieved. Slowly, but they are achieved. Trevor is talented, but a change in his attitude would do him good.
It's noon before I can fully comprehend it. I have to have lunch in the cafeteria because I didn't feel like cooking today, honestly. And the food here is good. The only thing I have to pay extra for is in the coffee area, because desserts, food, and fruit juices are completely free.
So free that you pay for it with your salary. XO, XO, as Faven would say.
After buying Trevor the Frappuccino and choosing what I'll eat, I move to one of the tables at the back. I enjoy eating alone. I feel that peace should reign at that moment so that the food can go down well.
I lick my lips before taking the first bite of the mashed potatoes I ordered. Then, as I eat a piece of breaded chicken on my plate, I feel some flashbacks cross my mind.
They are there one by one. So clear and vivid that I feel like I actually went through all those things I can see in my thoughts. They play out like movie reels; they even follow a strangely logical order. Is it possible that I'm the one who needs therapy?
That name appears once again. Rod Hart. I have no idea who it could be, but something inside me tells me that I know him from somewhere. And, for some reason that I can't name, my mind shares a memory in a cafeteria where I am having breakfast with someone who goes by the name Rod.
He's a tall guy. His hair is perfectly combed to the side. The gel makes his hair look dark brown, almost black. That's how much gel the guy uses.
I decide to watch television for the thirty minutes I have left of break before I move on to another artist I have pending. The older people who work here like to put on news or gossip shows. There's no middle ground. I wish they would let us watch a bit more basketball to change things up.
Although, for the first time, I'm grateful that they left the TV on a channel that shows current political events. There, on TV, being interviewed by one of the journalists, is this guy who immediately catches my attention.
They introduce him. Rod Hart, thirty years old, psychologist and political scientist. Also, a presidential candidate for an independent party in the United States of America.
As he starts speaking, I feel a strange stirring in my stomach. In seconds, I can tell that each of his movements seems to have been planned before he made them. He seems like a speech genius. Honestly, I doubt he will gain the popularity needed to win a presidential election, but I know he will get a few votes.
"I believe in an America that desires the good and progress for its inhabitants. I want to work for that America, one that embraces its culture," he concludes.
This coincidence gives me a strange feeling in my chest. I don't like this guy. I couldn't describe why, but his presence makes me uncomfortable. And the coincidence of events overwhelms me; why does he appear on TV just when I'm thinking about his existence?
That power must have a name. But I don't know what it is.
I know very well that when you hear a name or a word for the first time, you start noticing it more everywhere. It's probably just that, but it doesn't change the fact that the coincidence happens just when I can see him on TV.
"Hey, Eron. Why so lonely, lone wolf?"
Theo snaps me out of the small trance I entered. After he places his food on my table, I shake his hand in return for the greeting.
"I'm listening to politicians being politicians. Nothing more," I shrug. He takes a seat and nods his head up and down in agreement.
"You've never trusted politicians, Eron. If my raise depended on it, they would never give it to me."
I feel some of my tension ease as I laugh a little.
"Well, it's their fault for looking untrustworthy."
"Aaaaaah. You're clever. Do you have more work today?"
"A couple more recordings. Why?" I ask, and continue with my food.
"So that the four of us can go bowling. Faven, the breaker, you, and me. I want a break from all these spoiled artists today! Plus, we haven't gone out much since you got married."
I smile half-heartedly. Yes, something like that definitely wouldn't hurt.
"I haven't even been married for a month, Theo."
"Well, we won't let the month go by without going out, you scoundrel."