Broken Strings

Desperation makes you stupid. Kai knew this, and yet, at 1:00 AM the next night, he was walking toward the South Side.

He needed quick cash. The subway busking wasn't cutting it. There was a bar down on 47th that let musicians play for tips, and the drunks there were known to be generous if you played the right songs.

It was a risk. The neighborhood was rough.

Kai played for two hours. He made sixty dollars. It wasn't enough, but it was a start.

He packed up and headed for the bus stop. The street was empty, lit by flickering sodium lamps that cast long, orange shadows.

He heard the footsteps behind him too late.

"Nice case," a voice said.

Kai spun around. Three guys. Hoods up.

"It's nothing," Kai said, backing up. "Just a fiddle. It’s broken."

"Let's see it," the leader said, stepping forward. A knife glinted in the orange light.

"Take the cash," Kai reached into his pocket and threw the wad of bills on the ground. "Take it. Just let me go."

The leader laughed. "We'll take the cash. And the case."

Kai didn't think. He reacted. That violin was his father. It was his voice. It was the only thing he owned that mattered.

He swung the case like a weapon, hitting the first guy in the shoulder.

It was a mistake.

They swarmed him. A fist connected with his jaw, sending stars exploding across his vision. He fell to the wet pavement. Kicks landed on his ribs, his stomach. He curled into a ball, protecting his hands.

Then he heard the sound.

*CRACK.*

The sound of wood splintering under a heavy boot. The sound of strings snapping with a high-pitched whine.

The guys grabbed the cash and ran, leaving Kai gasping for air on the sidewalk.

Kai dragged himself up. He crawled over to the case.

He opened it.

The violin was destroyed. The neck was snapped clean off. The body was crushed, nothing but splinters and duct tape.

Kai sat there in the dark, blood dripping from his lip onto the wreckage of his life. He didn't cry. He was too hollow for tears.

\---

Elena found him two days later. She had gone to his apartment, then the subway station, and finally, she found him hauling crates behind a grocery store on Halsted.

He looked different. The light was gone from his eyes. His lip was swollen, and he moved stiffly.

"Kai," she breathed, running up to him. "I've been looking everywhere. I called you a hundred times."

Kai didn't stop stacking crates. "I'm working, Elena. Go away."

"What happened to your face?" She reached out, but he flinched away.

"I fell," he said flatly.

"The Showcase is tonight," Elena said urgently. "We have to register by six."

Kai laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "There is no 'we', Elena. And there is no Showcase. My violin is gone."

"Gone? What do you mean?"

"Smashed," Kai said, turning to face her. "Destroyed. Along with my rent money."

"Oh my god," Elena covered her mouth. "Kai, I can... I can lend you money. I can—"

"No!" Kai shouted, startling her. "I don't want your money! I don't want your pity! Go back to your castle, Elena. Go play your pretty songs for your father."

"Kai, don't do this," she pleaded. "We practiced. We're ready."

"You play for applause," Kai spat, the words tasting like ash. "I play to eat. We aren't the same. We never were. I was just a tourist attraction for you. A walk on the wild side."

"That's not true," Elena said, tears welling in her eyes.

"Leave me alone," Kai said, turning his back on her. "I have boxes to move."

He listened to her footsteps retreat. He listened to her car drive away. And then he picked up another crate, the weight of it settling on his shoulders like a tombstone.

\---