Although people are as they are, and their suggestions as such
Are not ones I'm eager to pay attention to
Except for the few I know I can do.
It's time to let go of the pain
It's time to release the burden and the shame
It's time for me to forgive myself
It's time for me to move on.
It's a relief telling you these words
It's a burden lifted off my head
The loneliness is there and so's the heartache
But everything is easier to bear.
It's time to let go of the pain
It's time to release the burden and the shame
It's time for me to forgive myself
It's time for me to move on.
"When did you write this?" Phil heard Jason ask.
There was some noise that sounded like Jason was trying to get the doors to the patio open.
"You have to lean against them and then push outward for them to open," Phil said with his eyes still closed. He wasn't ready to stand up yet. "I wrote it a couple of hours ago."
"How do you feel?"
"Drained." Phil didn't need to add that the writing was a catharsis for him as well. Jason understood enough to know.
He heard Jason swear, and then there was the thud of a shoe hitting solid glass. "Hold your horses. I'll open it for you. You don't need to destroy my door," Phil muttered as he reluctantly opened his eyes and stood from his chair. So much for catching a nap. "Go get the beers from the fridge. I'll take the chairs outside."
Jason nodded and moved in the direction of the kitchen.
"People! You have to do everything yourself." Phil muttered as he opened the doors. He placed his hands against the railings and took in a deep breath. The air smelled wet. It would rain soon, probably at night.
Phil turned around when he heard Jason come back with the beer. Phil popped the bottles open against the railing and handed one to Jason. They took a seat, and Phil swung a leg over one of the arms of his chair.
"The song needs a keyboardist as well," Jason said, taking in some beer. "And I think we have enough time to add it to the album."
"There's no problem with including the song. It's ready. And I know it needs a keyboardist. Looks like we'll have to make an addition to our band."
"We'll take our time to get one good enough."
"Arik is not interested in becoming a permanent member of our band?"
"No. He claims to be a free spirit and doesn't want to be tied down," Jason replied with a derisive snort. "A pity, especially since he was very good."
Phil nodded along with Jason's assessment. Arik was good. They would just have to find someone else.
"I'm sorry for being such an ass this last year." Phil turned to look at Jason. "You didn't deserve that. None of you did."
Jason paused in the process of raising his beer to his mouth and nodded.
"Now, all that's left is for me to find Lars and apologise for the things I said."
Jason gave a snort. "I wish you luck with that because from what I've seen, you're going to need it."
"Why do you say so?" Phil asked, running through the list of reasons why Jason would make such a cryptic comment.
"Because to find Lars, you'll have to go through Frieda, and she's spitting mad right now. She even came to the studio looking for you a couple of weeks ago, and she was asking for your head. I do not envy you one bit."
Phil considered the words for a while before speaking. "Why can't I just look for him in his own place?"
"He moved in with the Cains when he came back from New York, and he's been there ever since."
"Shit!" The expletive escaped Phil's mouth without him even realising it.
"Drink up friend. You need all the fortitude you can get," Jason said and started to laugh. Phil was going to kill him sometime soon.
*~*~*
Walter Holden, Psychologist, was tall, a bit plump and extremely jovial. He liked to laugh and crack jokes and was nothing like the image that Lars had in his head of what a psychologist should be.
Walter delighted in confusing Lars. When Lars had first started meeting him, he didn't know what to think about him. But over the course of the numerous meetings they'd had together, Lars had begun to accept and understand him. Walter Holden loved his job and did it happily. Something not everyone could lay claim to.
Over the last couple of weeks, Lars had found himself thawing with Walter. Of course, Lars didn't spill his guts entirely to Walter, but the personal questions got easier to answer, and the various suggestions that Walter made seemed less outlandish.
At this point, Walter had his eyes fastened to the words in Lars' journal. This was the first time Walter would read the journal in three months, and so far, he had done nothing but scribble in his notes and keep his mouth shut.
Lars felt himself begin to fidget and wished he was given to wearing wristwatches or any form of adornment on his body. He would have been touching it by now. What was so captivating about his journal anyway?
Okay, so maybe he had entered a relationship with a rock star and contributed to a band's album. What was the big deal in that? The entries were not so long, so Walter should have been done reading ages ago.
Lars was certain that if he had to tell Frieda the full details of what happened with Theophilus, it would not take this long. Even the abbreviated version of things, which he eventually told her a week ago after she successfully wore him down, did not take half the time he had spent watching Walter read the journal.
At the thought of Frieda, Lars' brow furrowed. He really hoped she finally believed what he told her about Theophilus not being an absolute bastard to him. Frieda could be so protective at times, and no matter how many times he had said it, she still insisted that she knew that Theophilus must have done something wrong.
Lars, though, could not see anything that Theophilus had done wrong. They both spoke words to each other that hurt. Granted, Theophilus' were more hurtful, but the words were all ones that they both needed to hear. Where was the harm in that? If Theophilus had not said what he did, then Lars would probably have remained in hiding.
It took a while for the words to totally sink in. During that time, he had asked the Cains to let him stay with them and had requested utmost privacy. They had willing given it to him. In retrospect, he could see where everybody could have misinterpreted things and assumed that he was suffering from a broken heart. He just wished they would listen to him when he said nothing like that happened.
He also wished he could see Theophilus again. Maybe he should have taken the lifeline Jason had thrown to him and gone to see Theophilus at the studio under the pretense of listening to the demo of Acceptance. But he had not been ready then, and by the time he was ready, Theophilus was gone.
He had tried calling Theophilus, but couldn't get him on the phone. He had then gone to New York to look for him, but Theophilus had not been there. His neighbours didn't know where he had gone, which was to be expected. What celebrity informed his neighbours of his whereabouts anyway? That would be like holding a big "stalk me please" sign, and Theophilus was not an idiot. Lars had considered calling Jason, Carlos or even Howard to ask them for Theophilus' whereabouts, but had changed his mind. They had gone on a tour to promote Acceptance and he had noticed that Theophilus was not with them whenever the band was interviewed. Theophilus was probably somewhere thinking about the words that had been spoken and needed time to think things through. This therefore put Lars back in a dilemma. He still couldn't contact Theophilus.
This whole thing was becoming really tiring. How did he get sucked into this again? Oh, yeah! A Greek sex god sang to him, and he lost his head. Maybe next time he would stuff wax into his ears. Or he might box Theophilus' ear the next time he saw him. What was taking the idiot so long? How long did it take a man to see the error of his ways, come to terms with his past and come and beg his lover for forgiveness? Lars was interested in moving on to the hap
pier part of their romance. But Theophilus was still missing-in-action.
Lars heard the scraping sound the chair made as Walter leaned back against it. Lars watched as Walter took off his reading glasses and carefully placed them back in their case.
For the first time, Lars watched Walter study his face seriously without a hint of a smile. He started to panic as he wondered what he had written that Walter could have taken wrong. All the angsty things he had to say about his psychologist had been written in the early pages of his journal, and he and Walter had since discussed the issues he had raised.
Was Walter still mad that Lars had questioned his degree and his competence on the job? But he had apologised about that months ago! What even led him to make such a stupid entry in the first place, especially when he knew that said psychologist would eventually read the journal? Oh yes! He had been pissed off at his professor and had wanted to lash out. He had felt that if Walter wanted to know the truth, then he should. How was he to know that his moment of honesty would come around to bite him in the ass? This really sucked.
Lars was about to go into full-fledged panic mode when Walter suddenly beamed at him and extended his hand. "Congratulations, Larson. Good job."
Lars felt the tension leave his body on a sigh. Whew! That was a relief. He thought he had done something wrong and was already thinking about how screwed he was. Graduation was in a couple of weeks, and he needed Walter's and Professor Coleson's recommendations before he could graduate.
He felt slightly irritated that Walter had kept him on the edge like that. Was he trying to give him a heart attack or something?
"You were able to put yourself out there, revealing part of yourself through your music. You stopped being anonymous in an environment you were meant to study. That is laudable."
"Thank you, Walter." He guessed with the way he had been when he and Walter had first started their weekly meetings that what he had done looked like a huge step, and indeed it was. He had Frieda and Theophilus to thank for that.
"I'm also pleased that you took a risk with another relationship and were able to adapt and allow yourself to be changed by an external force. You have changed, and it is my recommendation that you be allowed to graduate with your peers. Once again, congratulations, Larson."
Lars felt his mouth open wide in amazement. He had wished for it, hoped for it. Hell, he had even dreamed about it. He had assumed that he might just barely make it before graduation; that is if he even made it at all.
He couldn't wait to tell Frieda. She would blow a gasket at the news. But, before he could tell her, there was someone he had to see first.
Lars extended his hand to receive a handshake from Walter. Walter called out to him, just as he reached the door. "Best wishes, Larson."
Lars gave a quiet thank you, and closed the door. If he hurried, he was sure he could make it in time.
*~*~*
Lars gave a sharp knock on the oak door. The excitement that thrummed through his body and sang in his veins made him shake. The last time he had been in front of this door, he had felt foreboding, worry and confusion. He hadn't known what to expect from the encounter.
But now, he was the one dropping in to inform Professor Coleson that he had finally been cleared by his psychologist. Hopefully Professor Coleson would echo Walter's words and clear him as well.
Lars certainly did not expect a big grin or a hearty handshake from Professor Coleson. That would be expecting the impossible and was nothing like the professor's style. What he hoped to hear, though, was Professor Coleson confirming that he could now graduate. Then and only then, could he start to celebrate and share the good news.
It was up to Walter to make the recommendation that Lars should be allowed to graduate, but Professor Coleson had to accept that recommendation on behalf of the faculty and actually allow him to graduate. That was the reason why Lars was here.
"Come in." The words were abrupt.
Lars crossed his fingers, squared up his shoulders and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was that Professor Coleson was not at his desk. He quickly found the professor standing by the windows with his gaze fixed on something or someone outside.
Lars waited for his professor to acknowledge his presence.
"Oh, Larson. Good of you to come. Sit." Professor Coleson gave a jerk of his head at a seat.
Lars sat and waited as Professor Coleson moved from the windows to take his own seat. For a long while, the only sound that could be heard was the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Professor Coleson said nothing.
Lars debated breaking the silence and informing the professor of his news or keeping quiet and waiting for Professor Coleson to say whatever was on his mind. The way he had spoken when Lars had entered his office suggested that he had something to say to Lars and Lars had just saved him the effort by showing up on his own.
If only the professor would say something! It would definitely help Lars in choosing his own words.
"I received a call from Walter Holden about an hour ago. It would seem that you have finally learned the lessons he has been trying to teach you, and he had recommended that you be allowed to graduate."
There was a pause.
Somewhere in the distant part of Lars' mind, he wondered if the professor was purposefully taking his time to torture Lars. He never would have considered Professor Coleson to be one of those men who had a sick sense of humour. Apparently, appearances could be deceiving.
"I have observed you as well, and I agree with him that you have changed—for the better of course—in the last three months. You've lost the distance, and you've become more observant—especially in your classes. I am also not the only one that has noticed. The other professors have commented on the change, too. So, you can rest easy. You will graduate with the rest of your class."
Lars gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you very much, sir."
"Don't thank me. You did everything yourself. You listened, you learned, and you evolved. That's what has helped you."
The words were spoken with finality. The meeting had obviously come to an end. Lars rose from his seat and walked to the door. He was about to turn the knob when something occurred to him. He turned around. "Sir, I have a question for you."
Professor Coleson paused in what he was writing and glanced up at him. "Yes?"
"Why did you do all this? Why did you push me?"
Professor Coleson dropped his pen and steepled his fingers together. "Because I didn't want such a brilliant mind to enter the world without the realisation that everything should be studied and learned from. Human beings are lucky in that things that happen to us, if we learn from them, have the power to help us transform into better, stronger people. As a sociologist, it's a truth you needed to learn."
Lars nodded at the explanation and reached out his hand to turn the knob on the door.
"And my son is—how do you young people put it these days? A bit of an ass? You didn't need to suffer because of that."
Lars turned to look at the professor, but Professor Coleson had returned to his notes and was scribbling again. "Shut the door behind you," he called out without lifting his head.
Lars did just that. As he stood on the other side of the door, he shook his head. Professor Coleson did not have a sick sense of humour; he was a freaking Agony Aunt. Who would have thought?
*~*~*
Phil spent some time in his Lotus staring hard at the Cains' house. The townhouse that had been so inviting and comforting now looked terrifying. Somewhere in that building was Lars, and he was being heavily guarded by a family that loved him and hated Phil's guts.
He knew that he had shrugged off Jason's words when Jason had told him about Frieda's emotional state, but right at this moment, while he was contemplating entering the lion's den, he certainly did not feel like shrugging off anything. With the way Jason kept sniggering beside him, he knew that as well.
Phil did the sign of the cross and moved to leave the car.
&nbs
p; "When did you become Catholic?" Jason asked.
"Huh?" The words took a while to register. When they did, Phil hissed. "Like you said, I need all the help I can get, and last I checked, He doesn't discriminate."
He slammed the door of his car shut, buried his fingers in his jeans and began a slow walk to the door. He had almost gotten to the door when it slammed open and Frieda filled the doorway with her eyes spitting fire. She must have spotted him coming through the windows. "You piece of shit! What the hell are you doing here?"
Okay. So no sign of his biggest fan anywhere, so flashing a smile wouldn't work. It looks like he would have to be completely honest about his feelings. Hopefully, that would help placate her and get her to tell him where Lars was. "I want to see Lars, please."
"So you can do more harm than you've already done? I don't think so." Frieda moved to close the door.
Phil's reflexes kicked in, and he stopped the door from closing with his palm. "Please. I want to make it right. Let me talk to him. If he's not willing for us to continue with our relationship, I'll let him go." He made eye contact with Susan who had come to stand behind her daughter. "Let me make it right. I need to make it right."
Frieda did not relent, much to Phil's disappointment. So, he kept his eyes on Susan and hoped to God that she would see the sincerity in his eyes.
"He's gone to think," Susan said softly and hushed her daughter's outraged cry.
Phil nodded and ran back to his car, quickly saying, "Thank you. You get free concert tickets for a year."
"Yeah, like we weren't going to get that before!" Frieda shouted. "And it had better be at least two years!"
*~*~*
There was nothing more peaceful than sitting in the park in the fall. There was also nothing as beautiful as the sight of the leaves changing colour and proclaiming to all that it was the season when things would begin to die to be reborn in the glory of spring. There was something about fall that made him melancholic and retrospective. He only wished that Theophilus was here so they could enjoy the serenity of the park together.
Just as he began to consider leaving, he heard the crunch of leaves being stepped on. A glance upwards revealed a real-looking Theophilus standing before him. Lars blinked a couple of times. When did he acquire the ability to conjure people?
Rocking Hard, Volume 2 Page 34
