WHO Orpheus, Calliope, Theo WHEN Friday afternoon WHERE Calliope's apartment WHAT the prodigal son returns home WARNINGS sibling rivalry
Orpheus stepped off the bus and lifted his shades onto his head as he looked around the terminal. New York City had a good feel to it, a creative feel, a living pulse that throbbed under his feet. It had been a long, long time since he’d last set foot here, and he planned to make the most of it.
Slinging his guitar case across his back, he headed out onto the street. Dressed in low-slung jeans and an open vest, his long hair blowing in the wind as he walked, he drew a lot of looks, but he barely noticed. He was too busy getting the vibe of the city back into his veins. He’d spent the last few years in Nashville, jamming with a whole bunch of amazing country and folk musicians. Some of those fellows really knew how to warble, and it was such a chill, magic space for collaborating on some really slick tracks. Taylor Swift still sent him emails every now and again to ask for help with her songwriting.
But the wind had changed. Country wasn’t giving him the same rush as it used to, and he found himself seeking out more urban beats, experimental R&B and alt rock sounds that were absolute fire but didn’t gel with the stripped-back songs he’d been working on before. So he’d packed up his guitar, divested himself of everything he owned, and hopped a bus back to the big city. It’d been a toss-up between East and West Coasts, but his mother did keep on asking him to visit, so eastwards it was.
He meandered his way from the bus stop to Calliope’s condo, stopping a while on the way to jam with a couple of buskers on the subway, and pick up a bunch of flowers as a gift. Calliope sure would be delighted to see him. He liked surprising people.
Knocking rhythmically on the door, Orpheus waited for his mother to appear and sweep him up into a big hug. It really had been too long.