Weak and Powerless

Sometimes its hard to look at what you really want. Because you know that once you glance at it, you will never be the same.

The tuna was terrible, it tasted rotten and had a rancorous odor, I casted it aside and smiled to not suggest any problem.
“May I be excused?” I asked
“Most certianly, Heighman guestered a limp wrist towards the bathroom. After I wiped the vomit off my face, I took a long hard look in the mirror. Is this what I really wanted to be doing? Do I want to be looking in the same mirror 30 years later smiling with false teeth and grey hair. I cringed at the thought. Obviously not. The florescent light flickered off. Great, I thought and felt for the door. Stumbling out into the corridor I reached into my coat and found a smile and walked over to the table.
Heighman wasn’t really the boss you wanted, he was that old man who seemed to have his own agenda. Those fading eyes darting about and seeming to have a mind of their own inside his sunken brow. And not to mention the fact that he was known to try and force the young girls he hired to have sex with him. But nonetheless, he was the boss and I was at his mercy. And for some reason he liked me. He always seemed to be ready to give me the benefit of the doubt, which kind of caught my attention, on multiple occasions. I mean god works in mysterious ways, but Heighman isnt god, i hope. If god was the owner of a small accounting firm in rural michigan, we have a problem. I always remember the words of my father,
“Mitch, you have to do something with your life, dont be like your ol’ man and work in a factory.” he would say inbetween coughs. I could see where he was coming from though, he spent all his life hitting a lever and what did it get him? A gold watch and lung cancer. I know I sure as hell didnt wanna end up like that.

I dont know where accounting really came into the picture, I always had wanted to be a Pro football player. At one point I was the captain of Jefferson High, and a damn good one. State Champions 71-72 infact. A surplus of colleges would come to my door and I was giddy as a schoolboy. At one point I was gonna be on the Miami Hurricane, but then one day, i think i woke up. I had realized that all my life i was living in a fantasy, I actually thought I would make it to the big leagues, but i forgot that they lie when they tell you that you can be whatever you want to be. So I started focusing on academics and realized I wasnt bad at math and i had an uncle in accounting so why not right? I would be lying if I told you I wasnt miserable. Everyday was a labor to get out of bed and put on that same blue suit, my fathers suit. I would walk out to my red El Camino and try and start it for 10mins and then finally it would catch, then a 45 minute ride to hell on earth. And there would be Heighman with his Joker smile and bald head staring out the window of the second floor with both hands behind his back. The American Dream? Working in an office cubicle pushing little keys and hearing the phone ring every goddman minute. I hope to god it isnt.

And then, one day, it was Different.

I heard a faint noise in the distance. Music. I got up and looked out the window. There was some sort of band at the restaruant across the street, and my shift was over in 10 minutes, why not?
I sifted through the smoke with my both arms and made my way to the makeshift stage. 3 men stood, well 2 men, one was seated actually. The man closest to me worse a leather jacket and slicked backed hair and carried a white guitar. He sang into the microphone as if screaming to the world. The other man was dressed in all black with black sunglasses and a pony tail. He had a black bass guitar and was basically motionless. And there was the drummer, a somewhat thin red headed guy with a pink suit, quite a motley crew. I sat the whole night actually, and listened to their creation. It was beautiful, and at that moment I realized that I loved music.
“Thank you, we are Mantra, and see you next Friday.” the singer said and started to pack up his guitar. I put one hand on my head and was amazed what I had seen. 3 men who could just do what they want and do it for a living. I went and bought a guitar.

The only thing was No one said it was hard to play, many a night I sat their like a primape hitting the strings and getting nothing. But gradually I began to develope the incling of how to play. I even bought a book, Rock Guitar! it read in big red letters. I used it everynight and then one day I went for gold.
It was Friday night and Mantra was onstage at Freddies Diner, I sat in my usual chair and watched them do theyre magic, but then I made my move. While they were packing up I went over to them.
“Hey…um excuse me?” I tried to say cooly
“Yo, man, whats up?” The singer replied looking over his shoulder.
“I was wondering if you knew of any bands that needed a guitar player” I said and put out my arm to lean on the counter, trying to look suave. He eyed me for a second and then turned around.
“Sorry Dude, but I dont.” He said packing up his guitar. And something I had never seen in me came out. I walked infront of him and bent down.
“I know I dont look like a musician, but I sure as hell can be, cant I?” I cocked an eyebrow.
“You got guts kid, ill give you that.” he said winding a guitar cord.
“Will you just hear me out, listen to how I can play.” I said pleadingly.
“It doesnt matter how good you are man, Theres something musicians have, that you dont, come back when you get it, and we’ll talk.” he said and walked out the back door. I stood there and stared at the backdoor and went over what he said in my head. The neon sign flickered above the door. Exit shown in big red letters.

What did he mean?! I thought to myself all that night, theres something I dont have? I rolled over and watched the rain fall. My eyes wondered, my blue suit rested on a chair in the corner of the room. I chuckled at it, it was obviously old, its lapel too large for fashion standards. I closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep.
I stumbled into the office.
“Long night Mitch?” Heigman said and i snapped around.
“Yes Mr. Heighman” I said balancing from the recent poise change. and at that moment I realized that I was at the mercy of my job, if i was myself and didnt say Mr. or some title i would probably lose my job. I was weak and powerless.
“I hate to see you like this Mitch, youre a good kid, just gotta get your prioritys straight” he said and turned around.
“They are straight” I heard someone say, but I realized it was me.
“Excuse Me?” Heighman said and turned around.
“My prioritys are straight, and this job isnt one of them.” I said and walked out. His mouth agape Heighman watched me walk out.
What in gods name did I just do, I looked in rearview mirror of my El Camino and threw my head back. I felt somehow relieved, as if stress had instantly lifted off my shoulders and flew out the car window. That day I played guitar all day.
It was Friday night and I went to Freddies like usual. But it wasnt usual. I wasnt Mitch anymore. I sat in the same seat. my ghost loomed over me in disgust but I laughed. I watched the show and appreaciated it much more than ever. I even clapped and whistled. My ovegrown hair falling before my eyes, I brushed it up, and brought out a pair of sunglasses. No more blue suit either, I had bought myself a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Times were changing.
After the show I went up to the singer and said
“Im Free” and lowered my shades. He glanced at me for a minute and then smiled.