Part 2: The Percussion

Alfred woke up to the wonderful golden light of a new morning streaming through the window into his bedroom. He had a smile on his face even as he woke up. His sleep had been wonderful. In his dreams he had seen visions of a return. He had seen himself back in Madison Square Gardens, once more playing for a sold out audience. He would play both the new and the old songs. And the audience would love it. Their hero, their idol, had returned, had awakened from the long sleep, and was now here in all his glory to entertain them once again.

Alfred got up and walked out of his bedroom. He looked upon the evidence of yesterday’s occurrences. The pizza still sat out, part of it eaten. He could smell the anchovies from here. He would have to throw that out now, get some air freshener in here. And there, stacked up in front of the piano, were the four songs that he had written under the guidance of Ms. Megan Nolan. He approached them cautiously, as if afraid that they would turn to wisps and fade away. But no, they were quite real, their sheets wrinkled under his grip.

Alfred took them with him as he set about to prepare breakfast. He set them on the table as he went into the kitchen. Something special was needed now, something to celebrate the occurrences of yesterday. An omelet, that would do quite nicely. So Alfred set about to make one. He got out the eggs, the cheese, and the ham. He cracked the eggs, set them in the skillet on the stove to cook, and then added the other ingredients as needed. Soon there was a nice omelet sizzling in the skillet. Alfred could smell it, oh it smelled so good. Carefully he took it out of the skillet with a spatula and put it onto a plate.

Alfred took his breakfast to the table and sat down to eat it. After this he knew what he would have to do. He needed to give his old friends a call. They had been with him through all of the struggles, had sat there and watched him punish himself for something that had not even been his fault. They wouldn’t believe him, Alfred knew that. But then he would play the songs for them. It would just make their day, Alfred Tishman finally writing new songs. Then he would need to call a record exec. He hoped that his old label hadn’t forgotten about him. He doubted it. He knew they would be absolutely floored to have some new stuff from him.

Once the omelet was finished Alfred got the phone and started making the calls. His old friends were all delighted to hear from him, and surprised to hear him so happy. When he told them the source of his joy, they were first skeptical. But then Alfred won them over by playing the songs to them over the phone. Then they would be absolutely ecstatic. Alfred swore that one of them, a jazz saxophone player older than him, was crying after hearing the music. They were happy for Alfred, he knew it, he could hear it in their voices as they said again and again how much they loved the new stuff.

Then Alfred dug around for the phone number for his old record label, Captain Records. He found it in his old files and dialed the number. A sweet sounding voice picked up and asked who was calling. Alfred asked to speak to Todd Dudson, his best friend, the head of Captain Records. He was put right through.

“Hey, Alfie, how’s it going?” Todd asked him over the phone.

“I’m great Todd, just great,” Alfred said.

“Hey, you sound alright,” Todd said, a little bit of surprise in his voice, “What’s the occasion?”

“Listen to this,” Alfred said. He sat the phone down and played one song through completely. When he was finished he picked up the phone again. “What did you think?” he asked Todd.

There were a few moments of silence. Then Todd spoke again, “Did you write that, Alfred?”

“You bet,” Alfred said, “And I got three others here just as good.”

There were a few more moments of nothing. Then Todd’s voice came through, cheerful and happy, “Alfred, I had you on speakerphone for the other guys. I don’t think anyone here will disagree with me when I say that you’re back man, you’re really back. I don’t know how in the world it happened, and to tell you the truth I don’t really care. It’ll take some time, but how’s about scheduling some sessions down here? We’d love to have you back.”

“I’ll call you back later,” Alfred said, “But you can bet on seeing me down there again. It’s like you said Todd, I’m back. Goodbye.” Todd hung up the phone and Alfred did the same.

Alfred collapsed on the couch, exhausted and elated at the same time. It was all coming back together for him again. After what seemed like an eternity in the purgatory he had been entrapped in, now the light was shining and everything was nearly perfect. It wouldn’t be just like the old days. Sometimes what was gone was truly gone. But it would still be happy. He would return to the world of wonderful sound that he had been so loath to leave twenty years ago.