A stranger into honeymoon
Myla enters the studio after having a long conversation with the girls. They have been pressuring her to sing. It's been a while and she has not been able to release a soundtrack. Always hanging on a single lyric.
She hopes her friends' persistent and supportive words will help her come out with a full lyric.
"Damn! You studio is very equipped. You must be a professional singer" Patricia compliments as soon as she steps into the musical hall.
Her eyes moving left and right, studying and taking in the beauty and cooling atmosphere of Myla's treasure.
"Which song are you going to be singing?" Tiffy asks
Myla shrugs are shoulders, not certain. "Maybe start a new one or proceed with the one I-couldn't end"
Patricia holds her hands up, "Anyone you choose is ok for me. I just want to here your voice."
She smiles thrusting open a door, leading into a vocal training room. It's an empty chamber with a transparent glass, helping those outside of it to see through the other side.
She puts on a headset and presses on two red buttons. A beat is played and she shakes her head, taking it away.
Her friends frown as she walks out of the room.
"What happened?" Tiffy interrogates.
"I want to play the piano"
They make an—'oh' face as the brown girl settles on a stool, placing her small fingers on different keys of the musical instrument.
She clears her throat and plays a sound . . . [This lyrics has a copy-write. I made it. So please don't –you know what I mean]
Maybe we know; tomorrow is our own. Maybe we feel, just the way we felt-when we were young. But some day, everything will be just a start for us to dream—the dreams we dreamed over again. Some day we won't have to reach out for anything for they'd come to us.
...
Just hold on. Hold on to your own. We know we were yolks. But then is not who we are anymore.
Hold on. Hold on to who you are, for being now, or never. We need to be strong.
...
Just like it'd be each day. I'd be in my space, fluttering the air. Reaching out to you: You, to me, towards one another.
...
There is silence as Myla ends the music. She breathes in and Patricia applauds after the last key sounded. Tiffy is used to hearing her friend play amazing songs. But this is still one of a hell great song.
"How can you be so talented? You're such a good pianist, singer; your voice was powerful. Those high notes—man . . . I'm speechless"
Myla didn't expect such praise. She just came up with a lyric. How could it mean sense?
"Stop guys. You're making me to—burn"
She holds her cheeks and they blast into laughter as they listen to her records.
...
Jamal is swirling in his chair, after the meeting with his board members. Everyone is still seated in the room as they go through the files, in front of them.
His laptop is connected to the company's WIFI as he does some research online.
Just like it'd be each day. I'd be in my space, fluttering the air. Reaching out to you: You, to me, towards one another.
--
Just hold on. Hold on to your own. We know we were yolks. But then is not who we are anymore.
Hold on. Hold on to who you are, for being now, or never. We need to be strong.
Jamal is frozen. Everyone in the meeting room is staring at him in confusion. He remembers that voice. His heart skips many paces as he searches for the origin of this melody.
Patricia made a record of Myla when she was singing, without her knowledge. She just sent it to him.
Jamal notices, the sound comes from his phone. He swipes to see Myla singing in a studio; her voice warbling.
His message icon, "Kid Sister' Patricia!
He is drawn by Myla's voice and so is everyone in the room. He wants to exit this area but he can't help listening to her sing. When he discovers the look his members are sending to him, he forces shut the icon and his phone.
He clears his throat, re-focusing on his MacBook Pro. Everyone frowns. They have been here for hours. They want to return home and that music was cooling their heads from tiredness.
He claims to be so serious in his apple mac but his mind had travelled from the moment he heard Myla's voice. He couldn't imagine she can sing. And not just that but she is very good at controlling her voice.
It makes him reflect on the times he used to sing. He had his instruments. But something made him stop. He didn't want to return to singing. However, now, he feels a tad inspired.
...
Myla had a wonderful day yesterday. She's happy about the song she composed. She didn't know she'd get so triggered by her friends.
Today, she has no school. She needs to shop for the house. Her fridge is hollow and needs refill. She parks in front of the mal, walks off after closing her door.
Her mind is very distant and computing on her 'after shopping'. She has a live program to attend that will start in 20minutes from now.
She has to hurry up to appear on time, for it waits for no one. She looks down at her watch while struggling to pass by people into the mal—
Someone jams her, her forehead colliding with something really hard. She presses it to relief the pain as she cocks her head to see who it is.
Jamal is standing in front of her, his phone in his hands as though it was his VPN.
"What a greet surprise. We meet again after a—while"
"What a 'way' to meet uh?" She prods her tongue against the wall of her mouth, being impatient.
He sees that she's already getting annoyed so he grins, "I'm sorry. I didn't see you coming."
"Mmmm. Walking on the road with a your eyes on the phone is something very normal for you"
"No, it's not. Just because you saw me walking now, doesn't mean I do that often"
"I really need to get inside" Myla gestures her hand towards the entrance and he doesn't give her way.
She sighs "I should be scolding you for being irresponsible. But here you are acting the victim"
"Two wrongs don't make a right. You were looking at your watch before pumping into me"
She opens her mouth and closes it. He's right. If she was watchful, she won't be in this position. Damn it! He's always right.
"Sorry. Now can I get in?"
He nods, giving her space. She hesitates, her eyes draining into his. He raises a brow and she returns to earth, making her way away from him.
"Shop well. Don't forget yourself in there"
She chuckles at his statement, getting in while he walks across the road and enters his car.
...
"Welcome Myla! You're never late for our program" A woman says from a live channel.
"Y e s . . . something came up"
The woman smiles "Will you mind telling us what exactly it was?"
She is normally an open person and will never refuse anything to her fans or co-workers. But right now, she's reciprocating on whether to tell them, what kept her this late.
"Umm . . . Just someone randomly blocking my way to the mal."
"Someone! We all know those awful moments when we meet strangers and—they somehow turn into our honeymoon"
"No, no . . . mine is completely different. No love story. Nothing interesting. Just a lesson that we must learn to acknowledge our fault—even when we think we're right sometimes"
"Oh. That's a very good one. Seems like that encounter wasn't a bad or 'random' one after all."
They laugh as the woman ride on about something else.
To be continued...