He's wrapping a croissant in a napkin and takes a bite.
I can’t help but smile. Is this what it means to be a musician?
That no matter where he goes, music follows? This past week I’ve been trying to see the world through his eyes. I've been trying to understand what drives him, what fuels that restless energy in him. But every time I reach the same conclusion: I’ll never truly know what it’s like to be Tom McKenna.
Heads turn as he passes, conversations pause the moment people notice him.
He adjusts his guitar higher on his shoulder as he greets the security guard with a fist bump. Then his attention goes to the young women at the front desk. They call his name in unison,giggling when he thickens his Scottish accent to wish them a wonderful day. He plays his part like it’s just another act.
But I see past that.
I have seen the depths of him where the world cannot reach. I have floated through his darkest waters and found something pure. But just like all deep waters, there is danger lurking in the unknown, and I am not naive enough to think I can return to the surface unscathed.
The world comes back into focus and I find myself standing just inches behind him.
“Hey, Tom. There you are,” I say, pretending I’ve only just noticed him.
He turns around and I watch the performance slip from his face. His shoulders relax, a real smile taking its place. Tom McKenna fades, leaving just Tom.
“Yosh.”
He pulls me into a hug, his face pressing against my shoulder. I don’t know if it’s instinct or surrender, but my eyes fall shut, inhaling his natural scent.
When I open my eyes, I find the security guard staring, the receptionists whispering. Only then do I realize how questionable this might look.
Tom doesn’t seem to notice. He still smiles at me like I’m some winning lottery ticket.
He backs off a bit and lifts up his guitar case.
“I brought my guitar, hope you don't mind.”
I grab my keys and we head for the parking lot. On our way out, I throw a quick, victorious glance at the front desk.
Call it stupid or even childish, but what can I say? Jealousy has always been one of my biggest downfalls. Years of mindfulness and meditation didn’t erase that.
Tom makes me fall back to my old ways. I recognize that now.
The old ways I buried deep because I nearly spent nine lives being reckless and chaotic.
That’s why I do what I do.
Crystals give me something to hold onto. Yoga gives me balance. Studying challenges me. I need that or things tend to go south pretty quickly.
But that was then. I’m a changed person now, I tell myself.
A knowing smirk tugs my lips. My eyes fly back to Tom.
“I figured wherever you go, your music follows,” I say, unlocking the Gremlin.
Tom looks content as I carefully secure his guitar on the backseat, treating it like the most valuable thing he owns. Considering he hurled his other guitar off a cliff and this is the only one left, there's probably some truth to that.
“I know you're the driver, but would you mind?”
He’s not really asking since he’s already connecting his phone to the music system.
“Sure, I would love to hear some of your music.”
When I get to the driver’s seat, I recognize theFfhonein his hands.
