Summary: We all make choices, what if they chose not to come to New York? Where, Who, What would they be?
AN: Not JL. Duh.
"Where would you be if you never came to New York?"
"You are one sick bastard."
"Come on. It's a serious question. So much of who we are is because of NY. If we changed just that one decision, to never come here, who would we be, where would we be, what would we be?"
The final cords were struck, the baton was raised a final time and cheers broke about from above. The baton was lowered and everyone took a deep breath. As at the end of every final performance Roger whispered "its over!" and cracked his knuckles. A couple of the clarinets always joked that it never felt like the end until they heard his knuckles. Everyone smiled and claped each other on the back. The conductor actually came up and hugged Roger, It was his final performance, ever and thank god cause he is like eighty thought Roger. He gathered his music up and looked around. Immediatly his eyes met with Ana's, the second chair flutest. She smiled in return and began to put up her instrument. He walked over to her seat and cocked his head.
"Don't look at me. I have more than music to put away." She didn't even bother looking up from unscrewing her mouth piece.
"I'm not saying anything."
"Your going to ask me whats taking so long."
"No I'm not."
"Yes you are."
"I swear I wasn't going to ask."
"Well you don't have to. I'm done." She closed her case and put her music away before standing up. The crowd above was still clapping and cheering for the performance and actors on the stage.
"Do you wanna get some coffee?" He asked her as they got into a cab, he was still in his tux and she in her dress.
"Sure why not."
Later they both sat in a coffe shop, warming thier hands on the cups.
"It really is a sad story, I mean Mimi dies in Rodolfo's arms after all of that, I don't think I could stand it." He looked into his cup, trying to imagine what it would be like to love someone, and then just watch them die.
"Well you don't have to worry piano man, first you have to get a girlfriend!" She laughed and took a drink while he blushed. "Did you hear that they are going to take in on tour? We should so go along!"
"Why? They are begining Carmen next week and we are guarenteed spots in that."
"Oh come on, are you scared to try out again?"
"No."
"Then what is it? I mean come on! It going to New York and we could be there!" We could go see shows and everything!"
"I don't know, it just..."
"Oh I remember, you almost went there."
"Ya and well, I don't know..."
"Why didn't you?"
"The same day as my scholarship day, my band-"
"What was it called?" The coffee was starting to go to Ana's head, obviously.
"The Well Hungarians" Noticing the raised eyebrows, "Long story, but any way, the band I was in had an opportunity to go to one of the smaller clubs in New York and play. They left, I didn't. I haven't heard from them since."
"Good thing too, you'd likely end up some strung-out ex-rocker."
"Whatever. I could've made it."
The coffee girl came by and filled up their cups stopping their conversation for a moment.
"Besides, Ana, I don't see you getting a man."
She choked on her coffee, "I'm too busy."
"And so am I." He thought the conversation was over until.
"If I get a date, you have to go on one."
"What?"
"If I grow some balls and ask some one out, here, you have to do the same."
"You'll choke."
"Will not" she defended. With that she stood up and walked across the room where some little bald guy who was reading a book. She flipped her short hair and smiled at him.
"Fine, I got balls" He looked around the room until he spotted what he was looking for. He picked up his coffee cup and walked over to her, "Is this seat taken?"
The lady stared, "No?"
"Then may I join you?" Thinking, Rocker Rocker Rocker over and over in his mind.
"Umm, okay."
"I'm Roger."
"I'm Joanne." She is kinda hot, not so big on the whole braid thing but.. Roger thought.
"So... What do you do?"
"I'm a lawyer, and you?"
"Pianst." Slowly confindence began to grow, he could flirt, if he wanted to.
"Nice."
"How are you?"
"I'm a lesbian."
"Oh." CRASH, down went his confidence.
A few minutes later they met back at their table, Ana confenditly holding a post-it note.
"So?" He asked.
"His name is Ben Coffin, and we have a lunch date tomorrow. You?"
"Her name is Joanne Jefferson, and she is a lesbian." They both laughed until they couldn't breath, after their faces returned to a normal shade, they walked out to catch a cab-ride home.
Would I have made it? Roger thougt as he got ready for bed Would I have been a Rock Star?
He looked around his apartment, relitively clean, excluding his piano and the small mountain of sheet music, somer were copies of music that he played for work like Musetta's Waltz from Bohem, but most of which had half of a song written on them. He walked over to his latest one and looked at it,
Your Eyes, that heal, that hurt, when we said our goodbyes... He crumpled it up and threw it over his shoulder and picked up another one. An old one it was tentivly called Finding Glory. He sat down as he played a couple cords, slowly adding more and more notes that were not written on the paper, he grabbed a pencil and began to write them down as he played more and more.
Change of Key, "Time Flies, and then-" He sighed, checked his finger placing and began again, "Time Flies, and then no need to endure any more." Slowly he paused fewer and fewer times, wrote down less notes and played more without opening his eyes. Finaly a final cord was held for several counts and he opened his eyes.
If women could see me when I play like this, I woldn't have to worry about getting dates. He thought as he added the last few parts to the song. Glory.
But if women saw me when I played like this, I wouldn't have a job or a home.
Once again his eyes swept over his apartment, manicured to his specific balcholer life. A small kitchen that he attempted to cook in, Ana always ate what he made, but Ana was like a sister, someone his mother actually approved of. Not that his mother wasn't very supportive, but he always knew when she didn't approve of something. Specifically the Well Hungarians.
He also had a small living space, with a tv that was rarely on, hidden in a cupboard, and a far more often used cd/casset players. All of the music alphabeticaly organized. One of Ana's favorite past times.
A larger portion of the apartment was set up to hold his piano and other instuments that he fiddled with. His old Fender, an extra flute of Ana's and a bass guitar. In the off season he and a few friends from work would come over and have 'Jam' sessions, where they practiced for the 'some day' that they would go get a gig and play 'fun' music.
I would have made it in New York. I would have been a rockstar. He layed down in his bed, looked at the alarm clock flashing 4:00 am, and rolled over to go to sleep, alone.
I know I kinda made Roger shy, but I know a lot of muscians where the confidence they get is from playing music. So I figured that he wouldn't be so Rocker-ish if he wasn't a rocker.
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