Chapter 16

The lights of the projectors were bothering me. I couldn’t see any faces from the audience sitting there, and the cameraman was moving the massive camera from one side to the other side. The blood inside me was boiling . I could feel my sweat glands pumping sweat all over my body. I hoped that no one noticed it. The show host was introducing me to the audience and was talking about my work, which he had no clue what he was talking about.

“So, Mr. Adalbert, can you tell us how old you are?” the host asked.

“Please, call me Agustin. I’m thirty-one,” I answered him.

“Are you single?”

“Yeah, why? Am I gonna meet my blind date?” The whole audience laughed.

“That’s funny, but I’m afraid you came to the wrong show. That show you are looking for is called The Bachelor.” The audience started laughing again.

“Is it too late for me to go to that show instead?” The laughing continued.

“I see that you have some sense of humor. I like that about you.”

“Thank you, but I wished it came from a girl.” The audience laughed and clapped for my response. I thought that I was good at this. I was a natural.

“You are a funny man, Agustin.” He was laughing too. I hoped that I didn’t steal his show.

“Thanks again,” I responded kindly. After that, he asked me about my work, how important my articles were, and their influence on the science world. Since I knew that none of the audience was a professional scientist, I answered them as I explained it to kids. “Just be yourself and make it fun for them.” That was the dean’s advice after he told me the news that I had to go to this show, so I took his advice—what we, the scientists, had to do to raise money for our projects in university. After a few back-and-forth with the host, he told the audience that the other guest who was a singer was coming to the stage.

I heard the crowds cheered. The people were hurrahing from the heart. I felt that I was meeting The President, so I stood up like everyone else. Then I saw a tall blond girl wearing a sleeveless red dress walking toward the stage. She was wearing high-heeled shoes, even though she was tall. The host eagerly went and greeted her by kissing her on the cheek. When it was my turn, I shook her hand. She had long and delicate fingers. Because of the projector lights, I couldn’t tell if she had blue or green eyes, but I could say she was beautiful.

The host shouted out her name, Taylor Lively, and people were applauding and whistling for her. I kind of felt jealous. When I did something great in the scientific world, I never received such applause from the audience. Instead, I received thousands of questions. It almost took minutes for the audience to calm down and sit on their chairs.

“Hello, Taylor. Welcome to the show,” the host said.

“Hello. Thank you. I’m glad to be here,” Taylor said.

“You look beautiful as usual.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said it with a smile. I could tell she heard that sentence more than a thousand times. However, I couldn’t tell her smile was sincere.

I don’t know why, but I really wanted to pull a prank on her. The thing preventing me from doing it was an excellent sensibility that kept telling me to control myself, to not do anything stupid.

In my opinion, the host was doing a horrible job interviewing her. It sounded like he had no idea what to talk about. They were exchanging awful jokes that no one was laughing at but themselves. I really got bored until I heard him talk about her status. He asked her if she was seeing someone, and she answered no.

Then a silly thought came to me, and I thought I had to do it. What I did was, while I was sitting, I bent my elbow and placed it close to my kneecap and had my forehead resting on my fist. I had my other hand on my other kneecap. It was a pose. It was supposed to show a thinking man in an attractive way. It worked; the whole audience laughed, and with them, Taylor and the host.

“Hi. My name is Agustin,” I said while I was trying not to laugh at my own silly pose. I stretched my hand for another handshaking. She was smiling, but I knew it wasn’t sincere.

“Hi. Taylor,” she said. She shook my hand for the second time.

“I believe you just told him that you are single. Am I right?” I asked, but she only nodded. At least she had a smile on.

I turned to the host. “I thought that I needed to go to The Bachelor. You lied to me.” The whole audience started laughing again.

“Well, I never thought of that,” the host responded.

I turned my attention to her. I tried really hard to show my mischievous smile. It worked; it made her laugh, and with her, the whole audience.

“I believe we never met before,” she said.

“I believe so.” And with another alluring smile, I continued, “Just in case you are wondering, I am trying really hard to impress you.” I felt that the whole auditorium exploded with people’s laughs.

“Thanks.” She laughed.

“I didn’t know that you were one of her fans,” the host said.

“Well, I am now,” I responded.

“What do you mean ‘I am now’?” he asked.

“It means that I’ve never met her before,” I said.

“Do you like her songs?” he asked. At that moment, I’ve found out how stupid a move I made. I’ve never known about her existence up to that moment, and now I looked ridiculous. I hid my face by covering my face with the palm of my hands. It was amusing for the audience, but not for me.

“Don’t tell me that you don’t know her songs,” he asked. I just could shake my head and show my guilty face. This time, she laughed sincerely at me.

“How would I know that she was going to be your guest? So at least I could listen to her songs. To be honest, I didn’t know she existed,” I responded.

“She is everywhere, for Chrissake—Internet, news, Magazine. But you blame me for not knowing her songs? Here I thought I was talking to a genius,” he said.

I got pissed off for his disrespect toward me. “So do I, but it doesn’t seem to me that anyone in here knows me either.” I meant that I owned three different art galleries, which included music and orchestra, in three different countries. People like her come to me and ask me to see if I could exhibit their arts. She laughed hard. The host laughed too. They all laughed at me, but they didn’t know I was right. I was pretty much famous in my field. I was everywhere, like she was, but not renowned for everyday people, who cover most population.

“Hey, Taylor, it seems to me that the host is a party crasher or the guy who separates people. What do you think if we make a date in other places that he can’t be there? For example, another talk show.” She laughed with other people. The host had a nervous laugh though.

“Hey, hey, hold your horses.” The laughing continued. “I brought you guys here, and you are telling me that I’m not invited to the party? That’s just brutal,” the host said.

“Well, what you did so far was . . . nothing. It is not my opinion. You could actually ask her too if you don’t believe me.” I was smiling. We both turned to her.

“I’m having the best time ever.” That was her response. The whole auditorium laughed with her, even the cameraman.

I ignored everyone and tried my last shot. “As I told you, I haven’t listened to your music, which I’m not proud of, but it only shows you my honesty. Could you please at least sing a song for me? I think I deserve it after I made a fool of myself in this show.” I wanted to put her on the spot, so I turned to the audience for agreement. It worked. Everybody whistled and cheered and asked her to sing. It was joyful for her. She grinned. Why not? More advertisement for her. Even the host asked her to sing. After she showed a little bit of reluctance, she agreed to sing, so she turned to the band in the studio and asked them to compose the familiar song she did in the past. The audience couldn’t be more cheerful. They applauded her.

The band played their favorite song. I didn’t see any beautiful composing in there. I mean, that kind of music had a short life expectancy. It would be ancient fast, and no one would bother again to listen to it. Her song was about her breakup with her boyfriend, how she missed being with him, but the music was jolly. It made me confused. If she missed her boyfriend, then why compose a happy song?

All in all, I was happy that I hadn’t listened to her music. It wasn’t my type. It had too much contradiction for my taste.

After she finished her song, she waved a hand to the audience and thanked them for their support. They clapped and gave her a radiant cheer.

“How was it?” the host asked me.

“I’m honored and speechless,” I said. I already made an enemy in the show. I didn’t plan to make another one. I didn’t lie either. Thinking about it, she didn’t have to sing any songs for me, but she did, so I was honored. However, I regret that I destroyed the image I made of her for myself.

“Don’t you regret that you missed this great talent?” he said. I saw she was in a good mood, so I didn’t want to disturb that.

“I’m glad that I heard her music now,” I said. Because I don’t have to listen to her song when I get home, I thought. I tried to dodge the question as much as possible and to be truthful at the same time.

“Do you like music?” she asked me.

“I do. I like the classic ones, from Mozart, Beethoven, Bach, Chopin to The Doors, Pink Floyd, The Beatles, and Rolling Stones.”

“Wow, you listen to those old songs? And nothing new?” she asked me. I didn’t want to crush her with my honesty.

“When I listen to the Moonlight Sonata and the Für Elise, I don’t feel that I’m listening to the old music. I have the same feeling that the same people had almost two hundred years ago.” People clapped for me and my answer.

“I didn’t mean any disrespect to those legends. What I meant was, why not listen to the new music?” she asked.

“I did, and each time I listen to the music that the radio plays on the way home in a taxi, I just want to jump out,” I responded. It made people laugh.

“Wow, you hated it that much?” she asked.

“I just have a high standard,” I said it respectfully and realized that she didn’t know what other things I do. I saw that I was drowning myself in a stupidity act.

“Don’t mind him. I bet he doesn’t know anything about music,” the host said. The Audience booed him, and Taylor smiled. When he said that, I wanted to see the surprised face of the people who actually knew me.

“Actually, I do. Besides composing, I studied a lot about it too. You’ll be surprised to know what beautiful Mathematics is in the heart of music,” I responded.

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“Wait a minute, you said you compose too?” she asked me. It sounded like she just caught a thief.

“You heard right,” I said.

“Can you play a song for us?” She read my reluctance on my face, and before I said something, she continued, “I believe it is a reasonable request after you asked me to do a song for you.” She did the same trick I did; she turned to the audience and asked them if they agreed. They were curious as much as she was, so they clapped and cheered for me.

I smiled. I wasn’t ready to do it, and I didn’t play in front of the audience.

“Okay, okay, you won,” I said, and they hurrahed.

I asked the host to lend me a Spanish guitar. He turned to the band and asked them to give me one. I took the guitar and started tuning it.

“Your song was about the breakup and your feeling after that. Can I sing the same theme?” I asked. She nodded in conformation.

I smiled and let my fingers feel the guitar’s strings. It didn’t have any rhyme at first; I just planned to adjust my fingers to that strange guitar. It felt different, so I just made some strokes. I noticed people were waiting for me to play. Some of them already cast the judgment and started laughing at me, but I ignored all of them. When I felt that I was ready, I closed my eyes. Then the vicissitude happened. The music started having some rhyme in it. The provenance of all my sadness came back to me. The desiderata that had been piled up all those years came back to me. I wanted to show my vociferous feeling about the moment I felt she was out of my life, and then I sang:

There were broken glasses on the floor

The shattered mirror on the wall

Even though she is not here

You can’t see it, can you?

I scream every night, cry every time

And my life goes like this

And I’m singing

How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?

You wanted this, Didn’t you?

I don’t need another proof

Your beautiful eyes shine like the sun

And they can make me fall for you

I’m sitting on the broken chair

A broken heart

Waiting for the death

She comes and says

How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?

I’ve seen this before

I’ve tasted this before

Listen now

I’ve been lonely before I know you

Then I see it again in my dream

Waking up with a scream

And continue singing

How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?

If there was a time you loved me

Please let me know

I want to know

But you don’t want to tell me, do you?

I remember the time I was kissing you

The universe was happy too

I’ve kept singing

How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?

May I say about love

If anything I learned about love

How to forget about you

It’s not your fault

I know that

You are not with me

I know that

But I keep thinking

How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing? How are you doing?

I felt the last string my finger touched, and with it, I opened my teary eyes. The projector’s light was still in my eyes, so I couldn’t see the people’s reactions. There was silence in the auditorium. No one breathed. No sound was coming from them. There was a lamented silence in the air. Everyone was waiting for someone else to break the silence. The heat was bothering me, and the silence wasn’t helping either. I wanted to break it, so with having a half smile on my face. I wiped my tears with my handkerchief and said, “How was it?”

“Wow,” the host said while he was getting rid of the tears with his own handkerchief. The whole audience waiting for that moment joined in and started clapping and applauding so hard that it made me overwhelmed. Some of them whistled. I don’t know who stood up first, but after him, the rest of the audience stood up with him, even the host and Taylor. In response, I thanked them all by nodding and acknowledging their kindness. It took a while before the host could manage the audience again. After calming down the audience, making them sit, and asking them to be quiet, he continued his interview.

“Who was it?” Taylor asked me before the host could continue his interview.

“Someone in the past,” I responded.

“Did you love her that much?” Taylor asked.

“Or him?” the host interrupted. Some audience laughed. I laughed with other listeners, but I was already planning revenge on him.

“I still do, even though it’s been many years that I haven’t seen her,” I added that last sentence to emphasize that I am not stalking her. The crowd made a sympathetic noise.

“Are all scientists like you? Kind and romantic?” Taylor asked. I laughed, and with me, the whole audience. I laughed because it reminded me of the same thing Aiko and Bernadina told me a long time ago, but I think the spectators laughed because they thought she was funny.

“Well, if you omit the image that Hollywood made about the scientists, I mean, made them either evil or dorky, you’ll end up with a group of people who are passionate in their professions, and like everybody else, they know how to show a good time to beautiful girls like you.”

“Way to go, Dr. Adalbert. That was smooth,” the host said. The house laughed at his comment.

“It is not a compliment if it is true,” I said with a mischievous smile on. It made her laugh too.

“What other hobbies do you have? Besides science and music?” Taylor asked.

I looked at the audience and smiled. “Well, that is a discussion over a date-night dinner. Saturday night, at eight?” The congregation laughed with me, so did she.

“You are not backing down, are you?” the host asked.

I shook my head and said, “It’s worth every bit of it.” The audience roared with laughter. They were all having a good time.

“I think The Playboy Magazine should interview you for their next issue,” the host said. I tittered.

“If you tell me one other hobby of yours, then I’ll consider going out with you. Deal?” Taylor said. Obviously, she ignored the host’s comment.

I looked at the audience and threw my hand up as a surrender, which was amusing for them, then continued, “You won. I also do painting.”

“No way,” the host said, and I thought what a dickhead I was dealing with that night. He was nothing but a complete douchebag.

“Why not?” I responded.

“I don’t know. I guess you would say anything to have a date night with Taylor Lively. Even claiming that you are the president of the USA.”

“First, the president already has the First Lady, and I don’t think she is going to be happy to find out about a mistress. Second, I don’t find any reasons to lie to her. What I am doing here is to convince her to have a date with me. That’s it. And last, I just don’t understand why it is so difficult for you to believe I have other hobbies too,” I said, and the audience agreed with me. They booed and hissed at him.

“Okay, okay, I take back what I said.” He raised his hands as a surrender. I felt pity for him. He was a tool.

“Can you paint me?” Taylor asked.

“Of course, I can. Just like Jack and Rose in The Titanic?” It cracked her up, and she was followed by the gang’s laugh.

“The moment I thought it couldn’t get any weirder,” the host said.

“I couldn’t agree more. Can I take it back?” I asked Taylor, but she was already dissolved into laughter. She couldn’t talk. It took her a while to calm down and start talking.

“Can you paint me now?” she asked.

“Now?” I said. She took me off guard. In response, she only nodded her head.

“Well, I can’t paint you right now if I wanted to. It takes lots of time. The thing I could do is just to draw your face with a pencil. Hence, I don’t know if we have enough time for that either,” I said politely. She turned to the host and looked at him. The host looked back at her and nodded. He said I had only five minutes to draw her, and I said It would be enough.

After that, they brought me a pencil and a piece of paper. I took them and started drawing her. I liked the challenge. I’ve never done it before, but it sounded amusing for me to do it in a short time. While the host was interviewing Taylor, I tried my best to draw her and not screw it up. I just needed one glance to remember her facial features. After that, I only used my imagination. The time passed, and it was the only time that night that I didn’t notice how the time passed at such speed. The host asked me if the drawing was ready. I felt bad. There were so many features that I could add to the picture, but the time ran out.

“To be honest, I don’t like it so much,” I said it and knew it wasn’t my best work, but I gave it in. The cameraman zoomed it in, and the whole audience went silent again for the second again. I heard some of them use the cursed word “Wow” again.

“Wow, I love it. Can I keep it?” Taylor asked me with excitement. She was actually exhilarated in the act too.

“I could do better if you give me more time. This isn’t my best work. I’m kind of embarrassed about it.”

“Oh . . . My . . . God, do you mean you could do better than this? I’m wondering what else you can do to make it better. To be honest, I’m looking forward to our date night,” she said it while she gave me a wink as a bonus. She wasn’t alone; the audience agreed with her, and I could see the surprise on their face too. They were talking to one another as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?”

I was happy that Taylor liked my drawing despite my best work.

The way I drew her, it was as if she were sitting on the bench and arching on both her hands. Her elbows were sitting on her lap while her hands were holding her face up. She was wearing a long dress, different from what she was wearing now. The bench was covered with a few flowers and tree branches on top. The tree’s body was out of the picture. Her long hair was a good feature because it made me spend a little time on her face and fingers, so her golden hair covered both her fingers and face. Her eyes were the tricky part. All that could be destroyed by drawing her eyes badly. It took more time than necessary to draw them.

“I’m glad you like it. I only wanted to add some small animals too, like a rabbit, chital, and squirrel. I don’t even know if you like animals. Do you?” I said.

Her reaction to my question was cute. She opened her mouth as a surprise and put both of her hands on the side of her face, just like the picture I drew, except the open-mouth part. She looked at me and then looked at the audience. The audience melted.

“I love it. I love it. Can you do that for me? Yes, I do, I do, I do. I do have a cat,” she said. Before I could say anything, the host jumped in.

“Well, I hate to be the bad guy in here, but we are out of time in here. I thank Dr. Adalbert for coming to our show. It was a great honor meeting him. And I also thank Taylor Lively, whom her presence, once again, made our show great,” he said to the cameraman.

However, Taylor was so excited that she couldn’t wait for us to go out, and so she asked me again after the host announced that the show was over. People found her reaction cute. I found it as being impatient.

“I even have a better idea. How about I draw your cat instead?” I said, and somehow, she got more excited. I don’t know if the camera was still rolling or not, but I saw her rising from her seat, coming to me, and kissing me on both cheeks.

That was delightful and surprising. I came out of the auditorium and headed outside. Somehow, she managed to turn me off. I just wanted to be out of her side while she was talking to her fans. I felt her impatience wasn’t cute at all but relatively immature. I didn’t want to have another drama in my life. I walked. I walked as fast as I could. If I got out of the place, maybe she would forget about all this. She didn’t have my address, and I figured she wasn’t that kind of person to pursue after me. To her, I was another male who tried to get to her pants, and I was too tired to prove all over again that I am not such a person at all. Maybe I was, or perhaps I wasn’t.

I arrived at the door.

I stepped outside. I welcomed the fresh breath of air. I needed it to cool me down. The show was horrible, in my opinion.

The cloud was dressed in orange and yellow. The trace of the dark shadow of the birds on the horizon, dancing up and down, was beautiful. Some of the cars started using their headlights. The tall buildings became like shadows of the same structures in daylight. The city started turning the lights on. The asphalt absorbed the remaining light.

I inhaled the fresh air again and headed toward my car. I wanted to walk. I wished I didn’t bring my car. I wanted to walk home. I rarely got an opportunity like that. The world was going too fast for my taste, and I wanted to push down the brakes. I wanted to be outside of the iron box. I wanted to hear the music of nature. The feeling of what kind of bird was singing was priceless. What happened to me all these years? Science became everything that I have now. Was it too much to ask for more? I saw the new brand and model of cars. I never got so excited or impressed with them. They were all the same for me. They were all shiny and excellent for people who lost the touch of nature and were looking for beauty elsewhere. I stood right beside my car. I knew standing in one place on Earth didn’t really mean staying unmoved. The Earth was moving. I looked up at the sky again and took a mental picture. I unlocked my car.

I heard a car stop right behind me. I looked back. It was Taylor. She was riding a new Maserati.

“Are you hiding from me?” she asked kindly.

I smiled. She got me, and she got me right. “I was trying to hide from all those people. I don’t know how you handle it. That heat, interviewing with those kinds of hosts, expectations from all those people. I believe one talk show was enough for my entire life.” I didn’t want to be rude by admitting to her. After all, I was hiding from her too.

“I hate it to be the person to give you the bad news. If you hate paparazzi and attention, you shouldn’t have asked me out in front of the camera or be seen with me anywhere,” she said.

The feeling of standing under a cold shower rushed to my body. I didn’t know about that. I could tell that she wasn’t joking either. Finally, my ignorance about the celebrity’s life caught up with me. I was famous, but not that famous that every newspaper was knocking at my door or watching every move I made. What have I done?

“Are you okay?” she asked and looked concerned.

I gulped. Unable to answer her, I shook my head. I could tell she was laughing behind her beautiful smile. Deep down, I knew I deserved it.

“How long do you think it’s gonna last?” I asked.

“I don’t know. A week or a month. It depends on how fast another big news comes.” She looked away for a few seconds and then looked back at me. “I believe you aren’t going to finish that drawing for me anytime soon, are you?”

I looked at her. She was smiling, but behind that smile was bitterness. I could feel it. Sometimes I had the same smile. Hiding my sorrow and loneliness behind a happy face became part of me.

“I could do it now. It won’t take too long,” I said.

“Thanks, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea to do it here. The last thing you need is to be seen with me alone.”

“Well, I’m a scientist, and I’ll bore them to death by asking them to give a donation for a scientific research.” It cheered her up and made her laugh.

“Thanks, but are you sure you wanna do it?” she asked.

I looked at her, and with one smile and a nod, I assured her of my decision.

“Okay then.” She reached for her dashboard and took a piece of paper. She wrote something on it. It took her a while. Then she folded the paper and handed it to me.

“Thank you.” she said, and before I could say anything, she took off.

I unfolded the paper and expected to see an address. Instead, I saw a message:

You seem to be a great person. I had a great time with you, and I thank you for it. I know you will make someone very happy one day, and I’m not planning to ruin that for you. I wish you all the best of luck.

I looked in the direction she took off. Her car was out of sight. I felt horrible. My judgmental opinion took the best of me, and thanks to that, I just lost a good friendship.

“And to you too,” I whispered.