Music of the Soul 1, 2, & 3 Starter Bundle

  Music of the Soul

  By Erik Schubach

  Copyright © 2013 by Erik Schubach

  Self publishing

  P.O. Box 523

  Nine Mile Falls, WA 99026

  Cover photo © 2013 Jason Stitt / ShutterStock.com license

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher, except by a reviewer who wishes to quote brief passages in connection with a review written for inclusion in a magazine, newspaper, blog, or broadcast.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  FIRST EDITION

  ISBN 978-0-9889998-0-0

  Chapter 1 – Homecoming

  I approached the door of the little dilapidated music school with some hesitation and a great deal of trepidation. I haven't been myself for a long time, lost in the persona I project, the persona that shields me from having to live in my own skin, protects me from having to feel what I have become.

  A bad-ass rocker chick and party girl, that's what the world sees, and that's all I want them to see. I'm lost, so lost. I don't know if I'll ever find my way back to myself.

  Oh, by the way, I'm Mandy Harris. Yeah, THAT Mandy Harris. Double platinum artist by the time I was eighteen. Three Grammy awards, twenty number one hits, on the cover of Rolling Stone more times than I can count... and a total phony. I'm not the person people believe, I feel like I am falling and don't know where the bottom is.

  When did I lose control of my life? Why did I not notice it was happening?

  I'm surrounded by people, but I'm utterly alone in that same sea of people. They all pretend to care, but it isn't me they care about, it's their own success. Riding on my coattails, pulling them along into my world.

  They don't know me, they don't want to know me, as long as they get their fifteen minutes. From my manager and the record labels, to the reporters and paparazzi, they want a piece of me, of my fame, so they can pretend to live in my world for just a moment. The world I don't want.

  The only upside is that my music is my salvation, the only thing I can say is truly mine. I can pour my feelings, hopes, dreams, anger, frustrations and little pieces of my soul into my music. Now even that is tainted, as I profit from my songs.

  Last year I stopped touring, because I have a secret, a wonderful secret, a terrible secret. One that I'm afraid to ever share, one that I don't ever want soiled by this persona that I wear like a mask.

  I've decided to try to go back to my roots, here in Vancouver, Washington to find myself again. To rediscover why I love the music. To remember who I was before all of this fame claimed who I really am as a casualty, in its inexorable wave.

  First stop, the faded blue, three room, music school, Harmony, where I received my first singing and guitar lessons. My instructor, Mrs. Wellington, was one of the kindest and most patient adults I knew. She always had a genuine smile to share. She knew me, Mandy, not Mandy Harris, but me, Mandy. The girl who tried her patience with my hyperactivity and excitement over the lessons.

  I learned that I could express myself through the music and let it become a part of me. My first heartbreak was borne out through song, the pain would bleed away through the words. Mrs. Wellington helped me do that, she showed me how music could be therapeutic, and how to make it my own. I used the school as an escape from my abusive, alcoholic dad. Mrs. W was the closest thing to a mother I have ever had.

  It has been five years, that feel almost like another lifetime ago, that I last set foot in here. I was sixteen then, the same year I was 'discovered', the same year I stopped being me, the year I became “Mandy Harris”, rock idol.

  It's odd, but I felt sixteen again as I hesitated at the door. Maybe I can really do this. Maybe I can find myself again. I put on my practiced mask and pushed through the door with a big smile plastered on my face.

  The front desk was empty and I could hear the soothing voice of Mrs. Wellington coming from the vocal training room, along with the sweet voice of a little girl going over the scales interspersed with her giggles. My fake smile spread into a genuine silly grin hearing this. Boiling up the old memories of singing here when I was young.

  I turned to the seats in the entry area to sit and wait for the lesson to be over, anxious to see my old mentor and friend again. I was knocked out of my reverie when I realized the waiting area was not empty.

  My grin slipped away and my mask came up in a defensive reaction, as I saw a young mother, no more than twenty-five, holding her baby in one of the seats. I sat in the seat farthest from the two, distancing myself from human interaction, isolating myself.

  I glanced over at the two, they were too engrossed with their game of peek-a-boo to really notice me. The woman was striking, with rich, straight red hair, so dark it bordered on black. It lazily draped down her shoulders and down her back in an almost graceful manner that accentuated the curves of her lightly freckled face and lines of her neck.

  Even sitting, I could tell she was much taller than my own 5'-6”. She was dressed in a simple sun dress and sandals that gave her an almost wholesome appearance.

  Her baby girl was simply darling. No other word would fit but darling. When the child giggled, I couldn't stifle a little giggle of my own. The scene that played out before me warmed a new part of my heart that was absent until just a year ago. I let myself happily drift on that thought.

  The giggling stopped. That's when I noticed the woman was now staring at me. The smile disappeared from my face immediately, leaving me hoping that she did not recognize me. That's not what I wanted, not here, not now. Shields up!

  The woman had such a genuine, soft smile on her face that conveyed recognition but also something I couldn't place. She looked thoughtful, like something important was there as she tilted her head, almost in memory.

  I braced myself for the inevitable as the woman spoke in a soft voice, "Hello Miss Harris, would you care to join us in our game? Little Eve here just loves attention, she's the little diva of our family. It's all I can do the keep her still while her sister takes her lessons."

  That took me aback. I wasn't expecting anything along those lines. This woman knew who I was, but didn't want to invoke my fame, not even for an autograph. Even calling me Miss Harris instead of Mandy like all the people who pretend to know me well enough to be on a first name basis, nor Mandy Harris the object, not the person.

  It was refreshing. It showed restraint and integrity that I don't often see in my lifestyle. I found myself liking this woman and I didn't know anything about her.

  Before I knew I was even moving, I was beside her looking down at the adorable baby Eve. The redhead stuck her hand out gracefully "Sarina Rand, but you can call me Sarina." as I shook her hand I mumbled something like "Please, call me Mandy" but I can't be sure as I was already totally engaged in a thrilling game of peek-a-boo with Eve.

  After a couple minutes I found myself talking with Sarina about all sorts of nonsensical things, and when the subject of family rolled around, she masterfully steered clear of my family and concentrated on hers. It was as if she knew that family was a sore subject to me, as I had none to speak of.

  My mother had died when I was too young to remember and my father was a drunk who died of liver fail
ure when I was eighteen. It's like she knew these things. I smiled to myself, I could see us getting to be 'real' friends, not like the hoards of fake ones that have surrounded me since I was sixteen and rocketing to fame.

  "You know Mandy, I don't normally reveal things about my family to people I just met, but you are just so easy to talk to", I smiled a 'you too' then she grinned and added, "For a bad-ass rocker that is." and winked in mirth.

  Then just as suddenly, her expressive face got serious, "But I actually have to thank you for something. I have to thank you for saving my sister... for bringing her back to herself."

  "I don't understand." My face mirrored my confusion. Sarina took a breath, I could see thoughts racing around behind her emerald eyes, I could tell she was choosing her words carefully, then she spoke, as if she were afraid of the words, or how I might react.

  "My sister, Anabella, hasn't had the easiest life. When she was young she was the sweetest thing, the gentlest and most loving person. But her life slowly spiraled out of control once she started school... children are mean, and can be relentless, she was lost, just a ghost of herself." This caused a lump of understanding in my throat as that's how I felt at that moment. She continued "When she was thirteen she tried to take her own..." she trailed off in a whisper, the meaning echoing like the loudest thunder.

  I instinctively grabbed her hand and gave a little squeeze as she continued, "After that she didn't seem to have any spark left, no strength, no will to fight." she inhaled quickly shaking it off, I felt my eyes warming, threatening to tear up. I don't tear up damnit, I'm Mandy Harris! "That is, until a night two years later, when she saw you on TV performing at an awards show. She was entranced, followed your every move and she cried, she hadn't cried or showed emotion for years, but there she was, crying and smiling as she watched you."

  She smiled. “After that it was like a switch was flipped inside her, and the old Anabella was shining through. She found the lyrics to all of your songs, and I swear she was absorbing them all. She was on a mission and has since collected everything you have ever publicly performed, and she swears she can feel your music... and she dances... she had never danced. Her warmth returned, and the sweet little girl from years ago came back to us, and she's again the most loving person I know.”

  Sarina took a breath. “She wanted to do music herself, there are some huge barriers to that, but Anabella and our mother came here to the private sound-room in the back, every day, and she learned to play and to sing. The first time I heard the impossibility of her singing, I was floored, you could feel the love radiating from her. I thought the loss of our mother two years ago was going to pull her back into the pit, into that shell. But it didn't, even though she doesn't sing or play anymore... but she is happy, and that makes me happy."

  "I don't..." my voice hitched as I fought the emotion of the moment, fighting the tears, "She sounds..." I had no words and I pleaded with my eyes for her to know what I wanted to say even though I never knew my music, my words, could effect someone else. They were mine, they were for me, I never expected anyone else to 'feel' them as anything other than words.

  Sarina was quick to come to the rescue by speaking again, in an almost timid manner, biting her lower lip before she began. "There I go, ruining the fun we were having." Sarina giggled. This snapped me back in control of myself, “No. No that's okay." I assured her, and I meant it.

  Sarina went on, "I know your are probably sick of people asking things of you, and I feel bad for being one of those asking, but would you mind just saying hi to her? She works here at the front counter. I told her to take a break in the sound-room when we came for Zoey's lesson, and that I'd get her if a customer came in."

  I shook my head, my wavy brown locks settling on my shoulders, placing my hand on her shoulder reassuringly, "No, it's fine, really. I want to. It isn't an imposition, and I appreciate your concern over asking, most people don't even think twice." Giving her a soft smile.

  "I'll be right back. If Zoey's lesson finishes before I'm back, can you let Mrs. Wellington know that 'someone' is here looking for her?" I shoot a goofy grin at her as I stood, wiggling my fingers at Eve who rewarded me with a giggle. Sarina nodded with an excited look on her face that told me how much she loved her sister.

  As I approached the back sound-room I passed by the partially open door where Mrs. Wellington and Zoey were doing an inspired round of 'Do-Re-Me' which brought another grin to my face. I haven't grinned and smiled for real this much in years and it feels good. The closer I got to the sound-room the more I could hear familiar music coming from it. Isn't the room supposed to be soundproof?

  I opened the door and stepped directly into a wall of raging sound... my own music, louder than I had ever heard it. I recognized it immediately as an impromptu set I played at a club in New York. Where did she even get this recording? I winced at the volume as I closed the door. I turned, then I froze as my heart forgot how to beat. In front of me was probably the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

  Her eyes were closed with her arms over her head, as she gracefully swayed and twirled to the music in such an entrancing and relaxed manner. The solid yellow sundress draped around her small frame and feminine curves, flared as she turned.

  Her flawless face was so at peace in this raging torrent of sound, it almost radiated light like an angel, framed by her wavy red locks with hints of gold, that swayed and swirled to complement her movements. Her sister's mane paled in comparison.

  I was lost in the lines of her body as she moved with unparalleled fluid grace.

  I felt something foreign welling up inside that I couldn't quite pin down, a fluttering in my gut... something I knew I'd have to explore. I couldn't bring myself to move, content to just stand back and watch this beauty. Am I even breathing?

  Then everything happened all at once. The music ended, she smiled, opened her eyes, and looked over. Her crystal blue eyes met my gold flecked brown, and I swear I was lost, swimming in those oceans of blue. A thousand thoughts and emotions shot through her eyes as she brought her hand up to cover her mouth and staggered back three steps, never breaking eye contact.

  I was unexpectedly slammed by another wall of sound as the next song started. She looked terrified and excited and something else that I couldn't place. She lowered her hand and started speaking at me, her face full of wonder and a crooked little smile played on her lips as she tilted her head. I melted right then and there, that had to have been the most adorable thing I had ever seen, and it hit me in a way that made me tremble slightly. I smiled back and yelled, "What? I can't hear over the music!"

  She suddenly looked extremely embarrassed as she ended the spell she had over me by breaking our gaze and running to the console, shutting down the sound. She stood with her back to me gripping the console like her life depended on it, then she took a deep breath and turned to face me.

  I couldn't read her expression as she tilted her head to one side. Damn! My knees went a little weak there again. Her eyes were literally twinkling as a cautious smile spread across her lips, "Ummm. hi?" Two syllables, just two syllables of her lilting soprano, which sounded almost musically perfect. She stood there, nervously fidgeting with the large group of rubber bracelets adorning each wrist.

  I quickly recovered and started thinking about how much I'm starting to like this family, as none of them react the way the mindless masses around me do, even though I know this radiant work of art before me is supposedly a fan. I smiled back and she bit her shiny lower lip and placed a hand nervously against her stomach. It was quite an endearing motion.

  Is she feeling the same butterflies as me? This thought flitted through my mind as I walk over to the piano in the middle of the room, noticing that she was staring at my lips as I sit on the bench. This made me smile softly again.

  I reached my hand out, "Hi Anabella, I was just speaking with Sarina and you sounded like someone that I just HAD to meet." She walked over and stutter stepped as she passed the piano l
ong enough to place a hand on it like it were both sacred and would burn her with a single touch.

  Then her soft hand took mine and she retreated a step, looking bashful and speaking almost melodically. "But you... you're... I'm... so sorry Miss Harris. I don't mean to sound like a flustered fangirl. Your music means a great deal to me." There it was again, what is up with this wonderful family? Miss Harris?

  "Please, Anabella, call me Mandy." I said, looking down a little embarrassed. Embarrassed? What the hell is wrong with me? I noticed she slightly dipped her head as I spoke down at my shoes keeping her face in view.

  "Okay,” she almost whispered. "So, Mandy, I really like your shirt. What brings you to our little Harmony school?" I look down at the faded, heavily worn tour shirt I was wearing. It's my favorite shirt from my very first tour. The only one that meant anything to me and I smiled back up at her, did she know this already?

  I felt an almost electric current as our eyes connected again. "Well Anabella, honestly, I'm trying to reconnect with the life I had before all of, well, this." I motioned down at the rocker girl in a tour shirt before her. What the hell? Why am I confiding in her?

  She looked at me like she truly understood and could read between the lines, then said in her sing song voice, almost too low to hear, "It must be hard putting on a face and hiding the real you M." There was something ethereal and pained in that one sentence. Can she see me? I need to hide better. Wait, did she just call me M? I like that for some reason. Why am I babbling in my head?

  We started talking like we were old friends, and it amazes me how easy it was to speak with her. I thought it was easy speaking with her sister, but this is on a whole new level. I wonder if she felt it to, maybe not, as she has me repeat myself a lot, like she was not paying attention, but I didn't mind.

  When I had her sit down beside me on the bench, I could feel the warmth radiating from her, and that faint scent of strawberries coupled with her natural smell was intoxicating. Wait, what?