Strobe Lights- Track 2

TRACK 2- WHERE IT ALL BEGAN

With momentous things, moments which change someone’s life, it’s generally put down to fate and destiny. People say it was inevitable. But this was not like that. It was chance and a whim and nothing more. It could so easily have not happened to him at all, just passed him by and descended on another talented youngster.
Because he was one of the blessed few to whom the concept of stardom was not overly attractive. Perhaps, only just into his teenage years, he was too young to understand the visceral thrill of a crowd, the cult of celebrity-worship. Perhaps it just wasn’t in his nature. He was still somewhat shy, awkward around new people, still figuring himself out, and had a vague ambition of helping the world in some way- charity work, training as a doctor, a vet, a chemist.
Above all he was content; content in his ignorance of things he wouldn’t have dreamed of to his dying day, if the veil hadn’t suddenly been drawn tantalisingly aside.
It all happened so fast that to this day Lex still can’t quite tell how it came about.
He supposes it began on his thirteenth birthday. When he thinks about it he sees it in a sequence of objects. First, a strangely-shaped box wrapped in newspaper- his mother hadn’t had enough change for the bus home from town and a roll of wrapping paper, it was one or the other- containing the metallic red Fender imitation which was to become his pride and joy.
Next in the chain, the permission slip, crumpled where it’d fallen out of his timetable and been crushed by his Biology folder. Go for it, his mother said when she fished it out of his rucksack, smiling. You can do it, Lexy. You’re already really good with that lovely guitar of yours. And it had been so long since he’d seen her excited about anything, since Dad had left, that he thought he’d do it to make her happy, to make her proud of him.
The third object that stands out in Lex’s mind is the talent scout’s clipboard. He could see it wobbling while he played his well-rehearsed Metallica cover with improvised solo, natural as breathing, unconsciously biting his lip when he reached the difficult bit. The man was wearing a T-shirt a little too young for him, a moustache a little too old, and when Lex stepped exhilarated from the stage he got up and asked to see him in the foyer at the end of the concert. Innocent as he was, Lex thought he’d done something wrong.
In the end, the signing away of his future didn’t take very long. Lex only had a very vague understanding of what was going on, saying Yes, okay, he would do it while his mother’s eyes shone with tears even while she was smiling and nodding. Then they went home- taking a taxi, which was unusual- and she cooked pizza with garlic bread, which he usually loved, but he felt unsettled and didn’t eat much of it. Then he drew until it got late and went to bed, just like any other night. Except it felt different.
Time passed. He was leaving tomorrow. His mother was packing his clothes now, fretting that he had no decent pyjamas and hunting for partners for mismatched socks. It reminded him of leaving for Scout camp. He wandered around the house, at a loss, thinking vaguely that he should be helping her but knowing she’d think he was getting in the way. Instead he went out into the dark postage-stamp garden and whistled a long, loud, piercing note.
Almost immediately a face appeared at the back window and hurried footsteps cascaded closer until the door flew open and Elizabeth came out in her Moomin pyjamas. He’d known her since the day the Simmons family had moved in next door; she’d peeped over the wall, a rosy-cheeked ponytailed five-year-old, and watched him dig for worms. There’d always been an unspoken agreement between them that they belonged to each other.
Now she was all sharp edges, elbows and knees; awkward and self-conscious with her sudden new height. She reminded him of a fawn, wide-eyed and sweet and skitterish. He clambered over the low wall and sat down beside her on the patio squares, so close he could smell the strawberry toothpaste on her breath.
“Is it true?” Lizzie asked at once, wrapping her thin arms around her knees.
“What’ve you heard, Simmons?”
“Well,” she said hesitantly, and swallowed. “I was at the school concert, like you know, and I saw the- the talent scouty man… Are you going away, Lex?”
“Yes. I’m going away with three other guys and we’re going to learn how to write music and be on TV and stuff, I think.”
Her lashes shadowed her cheek in the fading light as she looked sideways at him.
“This won’t change anything between us, will it?” she asked, very low.
“Of course not, Lizzie. I love you.”
It was the first time he’d said it out loud and Lizzie blushed as red as the sunset. A sudden lump in his throat, Lex took her thin fingers with their tiny bitten nails and held them between his hands, sharing her warmth.
“I’m going to miss you, sexy Lexy,” she said with a giggle that sounded more like a sob.
“You too, Simmons. But I’ll be back before you know it. When I’ve made enough money I’ll buy you a pony and come straight back,” he teased softly.
Suddenly Lex felt a dull ache of regret, extinguishing the sparks of excitement fizzing inside him. For now he must put an end to something that had only just begun.