THE GIG OF A LIFETIME, PART VI; A SHORT STORY

When Sweats arrived home, his mother was waiting for him.  She waited every night he worked with a hot meal.  As he sat eating, she said, “You know, honey.  I was reluctant to let you quit high school, but then you got your job, and the extra money is helping out.  And you seem to be happier than I’ve ever seen you.  You’re a man now, and I’m proud of you.”

Sweats sat quietly eating, thinking.  How could he tell his mother that his life was still a nightmare while he lived in this neighborhood?  How could he tell her that all he wanted was to play his music?  Nothing else mattered.

There was an uneasy quiet as his mother watched him eat.  Sweats decided to tell her what happened at the club.  “Mom, tonight I thought I saw Miles Davis in the audience.  Joe said that he’s dead.  Is that true?”  He knew his mother loved jazz, had been to the club a couple of times to hear the band play.  Then she would walk him home, talking about his music and how proud she was of him.

“That’s true, baby.  Miles died a few years ago.  It had to be someone who just looked like him.”

Sweats just nodded and went on eating.  He was sure it was Miles.