Paul Lyme watched the swirling waters go around and down the toilet. He couldn’t quite say why his life-course had changed so drastically over the past year. He was a hard worker and he had a goal. He was successful!! He sat in the bathroom watching it all slip away. He was not literally following his vomit into the sewers, but he knew it was only a matter of time, if things continued in this direction. He was a smart guy, self-aware to a fault, so why had he allowed it to get this bad? He flushed again and stared into the filling, speckled bowl.
A year ago he was riding a high. He and his band, Energy Harbour, had just released their first “real” CD. It was embraced by the local Minneapolis promotion juggernaut, but only after he and his mates paid the bill, with Paul’s credit card. After all the usual hard work that goes into “promotions,” the radio stations started playing the songs. More people started showing up for shows. The blog-is-phere went ga-ga over them and soon they were touring the country, playing show after show. It was not what they expected– the venues were small and the crowds were smaller, but at least they weren’t losing money.
To their credit the band was good, the songs were good and they had that “spark” that most bands were missing. It wasn’t easy to convince everyone in the band to quit their day jobs and head out on the road, but they all knew it was the only way they would “make it.” And Paul, above all, was very good at convincing his band mates that they were worthy of “making it.”
Paul was smart but he also realized that very often it was just better, and easier, to let the others take over at what they did best. Promotions, marketing, tour managing, stage managing– the list seemed to go on and on and it seemed it all started with the manager. His head started to pound. He threw up again. How it could be so bad after such a good start? It was all a mystery to him.
There was a knock at the door. He didn’t answer. He wanted to crawl into the bathtub and sleep it off. He stayed quiet, expecting her to go away. She didn’t.
“Paul. Come on, at least give me a signal that you are still alive in there.”
“I’m fine.” He said weakly, his face pressed to a wet towel.
Ruby was Paul’s constant companion. She had the voice of an angel and she could play every instrument, better than he could. She was also his. He knew it every time she looked at him. Every time he failed and every time he triumphed. On stage or at home. They had met in high school, in the tenth grade. They were acquaintances for most of that year– in separate bands that played a few parties together. At the beginning of their senior year, their bands merged into one “super group” for a show at a local hot spot. They’ve been playing in bands together ever since.
Ruby’s main instrument in the beginning was the bass guitar. She had turned into a great back-up singer and had written some of the band’s material prior to playing with Paul.
Paul saw a talent in Ruby that no one else could see. She was a quiet person who didn’t yearn for the spotlight. When given the chance, she shined, but it wasn’t until Paul really pushed her that she really got the chance to let it rip. And she did.
Paul started writing songs for Ruby. He recognized that she added something very special to their live set that set them apart, made them truly unique. After a few months, Ruby started coming over to work with Paul on the new songs. The feelings that they had for each other turned romantic, and things soon got serious. Soon after the relationship started, Ruby and Paul decided that they would take themselves on the road and play as many shows as they could while seeing the world. They put their post-secondary education plans on the back burner and hit the road. They camped when they could and played shows almost every night at small bars and coffee houses in every nook and cranny of the country. Several moths later, they headed to Europe for more of the same. Their hard life on the road was somehow not so hard, because they were in love and doing what they were meant to do.
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