The Rocker's Muse

“Are you not religious?” Tristan asked.

“Why do you ask?”

“You said the statues make you uncomfortable.”

“Yeah. I don’t really like talking about religion.”

He wriggled his brows. “We could talk about porn, if you prefer.”

Religion it is. I rolled my eyes. “Religion scares me sometimes. Anything that dictates how you’re supposed to act, threatening punishment…” I shivered. “Maybe it’s because I feel I deserve punishment.”

“Whoa.” His expression darkened. “Only truly bad people deserve punishment, Emily, not those who get caught up in shit. Besides, we’re all imperfect in our own ways.”

“Some of us more than others…” I murmured.

“I don’t think we were put on this Earth to be perfect. I think we were designed to fuck up, learn lessons, and take those lessons back to wherever we came from.”

“And where exactly did we come from, Tristan?”

“Not sure what it’s called. But I think we all came from the same place. There has to be a purpose to this craziness.”

“So you think there’s a larger meaning to this thing we call life…”

Tristan grinned. “Something about you makes me want to admit things I’d never say to other people.”

“Like what?”

“One of my interests is studying near-death experiences.”

“Really? When the heck do you have the time for that?”

“There’s always time for Internet rabbit holes, Emily.” He winked. “And, there are a lot of commonalities among people’s accounts of what happens when you almost die. Too many similarities, if you ask me, for it to be a coincidence.” He paused. “And now you’re wishing we’d watched porn instead of having this philosophical discussion at one in the morning, aren’t you?”

“No.” I laughed. “Tell me what you mean, though. What do people say happens when they have a near-death experience?”

“Well, those who claim to have crossed over talk about seeing loved ones who’ve passed who guide them to the other side. They also realize that their soul has lived many lifetimes, sometimes needing to go back to Earth to learn lessons they failed to grasp in a previous life. Sometimes they’re given a choice of whether to stay there or come back.” He shrugged. “These are all anecdotes, of course, and we can’t prove anything. But it’s pretty fascinating to listen to their stories.”

I nodded. “It is strange how we go through life not questioning these kinds of things—as if our purpose is to eat bagels and scroll on our phones all day. It does make sense that there’s more to it than that.”

“Yup.” Tristan plopped down on the couch and kicked his feet up. “God, this feels good. Hear that?”

“I don’t hear anything,” I admitted.

“Exactly. It’s heaven—and not because of the saints surrounding us. It’s just cool to be away from the tour for a while.”

A woman entered with a massive platter of food: hummus, pita, falafel, skewers of chicken, piles of black and green olives. She placed it on the coffee table, along with two waters and two cans of Coke. I only now realized how damn parched I was.

“Thank you,” I said as she walked away. My stomach growled. The food smelled so good.

Tristan and I ate in comfortable silence as we sat together on the floor of Abdul’s living room. Half an hour later, we’d made a pretty good dent in the food when he rolled his napkin up and threw it aside.

“That was fucking tasty. Hits the spot every time.”

“Best Middle Eastern food I’ve ever had,” I told him. “And it does feel good to just rest and eat in quiet. Tours are grueling—and I’m not even the one performing.”

“You and the rest of the crew work your asses off just as much as I do—probably more.”

Now that we were on the subject of the tour, I had to ask. “Was everything okay with you tonight?”