Atlas

It didn't take long for Atticus to fill me in on the details. There really wasn't a whole lot he could fill me in on, about the accident. At least nothing in regards to Lia.

Errol however was an entirely different story. Atticus had dug up novels about the guy. Literally. Apparently he had written books.

Lia had definitely managed to downplay how exceptional her son's pianist career was, and in return, I felt like someone who just had the floor pulled out from underneath them.

Apparently this man had won awards. An incredible amount of awards at that, from composing to performance... I almost couldn't believe what Atticus was telling me as I listened on intently. It wasn't that Lia wasn't proud of her son, or secretive about him in some way. If I had asked her more about Errol, I knew she wouldn't of hesitated to tell me all about this, but I also knew that wasn't what our relationship was.

When we were together, art was our focus.

Truthfully, I had a bit of a crush on Lia. Nothing I would've ever thought of doing something about, I respected her and Doug's relationship too much, but it was hard not to love her. I think it was hard for anyone not to love her.

Now I wish I would've asked more questions about her family. Involved myself more in her personal life.

Sometimes I wondered whether or not my life could be filled with millions of what ifs. Things I wish I could go back on and correct, yet knowing I can't... and dealing with some of those horrid ramifications.

It's a tricky thing, isn't it?

Living.

It's not for the faint of heart, that's for sure.

Atticus did his best to explain as much as he could, but unfortunately, there was so much more I wanted to know.

Not really about Errol, but more about Lia. What her life was like for the last few months leading up to the crash. If she thought of me as often as I thought about her during the time we hadn't seen each other. If she knew how sorry I am.

I felt like I could write a biography on Errol Ballantine from the amount of information Atticus found. This guy really had no problem keeping his entire existence as famous and public as possible. I had to tell Atticus to skip whole chunks of information, like what celebrity Errol was dating this month.

There wasn't an accurate enough word to describe how little I cared about that.

Atticus mentioned that there wasn't much on Errol after the accident. He was only able to find a few composing projects with his name tied to them, and no interviews to promote them.

Atticus also said he couldn't find a single performance done by Errol after the accident. That the only work Errol had done since, was composing. There was also a run in with the law while he was out drunk a few months ago, where apparently Errol swung on the bouncer at Rouge, the popular night club downtown. He missed and fell into the line of people waiting to go inside, which started some fight.

Once again, this was news I didn't really care all that much about. Something told me a guy like this would probably never be in any real danger with the law. He gave off antagonist that evades the justice system for 6 seasons too long vibes.

I didn't want to not like the guy, there was just something about him that got to me. I tried to tell myself that his mother passing was an incredibly valid reason for being angry at the world, but I myself would never treat a stranger like that.

That was probably why what I did later in the day, confused even myself.

We made it to the meeting with Laurent, and afterwards I asked Atticus to drive us back to the studio for a moment. It didn't take long to find the note Errol left, and I had Atticus first confirm that number matched the contact he found for Errol, before saving it in my phone for me. That was the extent of all the help he was willing to do, as he drove me back to my home.

"You sure you don't want me to take you anywhere else?" He asked, tired as all hell. I couldn't help but laugh as I felt for the handle and opened the car door.

"Judging by your voice, I think you'll barely be able to make it home," was what I replied with.

"I've never heard a truer statement come from your lips. Laurent had to of been on drugs to schedule a meeting so early in the morning." Atticus sighed. That just made me laugh even harder because our meeting was scheduled for 9:30AM. A very valid office hour time. "I spent most of the night trying to get all that information too," he added.

That sent a little pang to my chest as I thought about that for the first time today. Atticus must've spent a lot of time researching for me.

"And I seriously appreciate you for that," I told him sincerely as I stepped out of his SUV. The days were getting warmer now, I could feel the humid breeze sweep through my loose fitted button down. I knew it was yellow because that's the only color I really wore. I dodged having wardrobe malfunctions completely by just wearing one color.

"You better. You don't pay me nearly enough to get me up this early again. You better relay that information over to Laurent and his stupid clay." Was the last thing I heard Atticus say before he reached over and closed the passenger door. Dash was at my side, waiting patiently for me to direct us inside.

I laughed all the way to the door, thinking about the meeting we had. I had wanted to put in a large order of clay, and Laurent had the best on the market. Good prices too. I'd been buying from him for years and no amount of whining from Atticus could stop that.

He knew it too. We weren't going to get a better deal, and it helped that Laurent felt horrible about my eyes. He was a lot of help in getting me back into pottery, and I just felt like we were bonded or something now. Turning my back on his business was a bad move both financially and personally.

Atticus just couldn't stand being up anytime before nine in the morning.

-

I was nervous to place the call to Errol. My hands got all sweaty as they struggled to hold the cell phone up to me. "Call Errol." I said finally, letting out a sigh that felt like it was caught in my chest. This feeling of anxiety was weird, yet I knew this whole conversation was most likely going to be incredibly uncomfortable... so I cut my sweaty palms some slack.

The ringing started just a second later.

And someone picked up on the third ring.

"What?" The voice cut through the line with a roughness I wasn't expecting.

"Hi- uh, is this Errol?" I asked awkwardly. Dash remained by my side on the couch as I shifted uncomfortably between the cushions.

"Who's asking?" Errol replied. Or at least I thought it was him, the voice that came through my speaker was the same roughness as last night, but this person sounded even more exhausted.

"This is Atlas," I replied, opting out on answering with some smartass remark. The guy didn't seem in the mood for good banter.

I heard ruffling through the line, like someone was getting up from a pile of papers. Then the man cleared his throat before speaking again.

"Uh- hey Atlas, sorry. I wasn't expecting you to call so soon." There was some more rustling of papers. "...or really at all." He mumbled that last bit to himself, most likely unaware that the phone picked it up clear as day.

We really had made some lasting impressions on each other last night.

"I wasn't really planning on calling," I replied honestly. "But I checked in on the accident and- well, I just- I guess I felt like I should hear you out."

It took a lot in me to get those words out. I wasn't planning on apologizing because frankly Errol's attitude still pissed me off, but I told myself I'd be cordial regardless of his personality. I owed Lia that much.

"Y-Yeah." Errol sounded completely caught off guard. All I heard was him clearing his throat a few more times as he most likely scrambled for his next words. "Well thanks for calling. Yesterday was- I didn't handle that the best." Errol settled on.

I waited a few more seconds, expecting an apology to follow, but he didn't give one. Just settled on that half assed accountability statement. Looks like neither of us were planning on actually apologizing.

"I just wanted to commission a piece. It's for my father," Errol continued. "Sort of something to remember my mother by. Doesn't have to be extravagant honestly, it can be a vase or a pot or an all out sculpture. Whatever you want to do."

The drowsiness had finally started to slip from his voice, making it more recognizable. It was now almost six in the evening but I'd put money on Errol just waking up. I tried to keep all my judging thoughts at bay, cause there was a good chance I'd say something really reckless and this call would end in another argument.

Errol seemed far too easy to argue with.

"I'll pay whatever your rate is. My fathers birthday is on the 30th and the memorial is on the 18th. If it's possible to get it before the end of May, that would be great, but I'm flexible. Will you do it?" Errol topped it all off with a million dollar question. I lightly tapped my fingers against the back of my phone as I weighed in the request.

Every single fiber of being in my body told me to say no.

I hadn't done commissions since losing my sight. And for good reason too, it took me an enormous amount of time to relearn my craft. To see with my hands.

But there was that feeling. That pang in my heart again, as I remembered Lia. Every visit we ever had, and all the warm smiles she always gave me.

The smiles she never seemed to run out of.

My art had made her happy, which I felt unbelievably lucky to feel even just a bit of.

And I had left things in a complete mess, I thought to myself.

Maybe that was why I found myself saying yes.

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