A Broken Record

I was rearranging my shoes on a rack by the front door, when I heard something softly hit the floor behind it. I opened the door and found a package on my mat, containing no return address. Weird. I opened it and discovered a vinyl record inside that was sadly broken in two. It was packed well, so someone must have meant to send it this way…

I didn’t recognize the name of the band. The Painkillers? Didn’t ring a bell. And I hate broken things. They remind me of my last relationship.

Suddenly cold sweat dripped down my back. Is that my ex threatening me? Is he calling me a broken record for repeating weekly that we cannot get back together? Or is it a threat to break me? That wouldn’t be unlike him at all… I called off the engagement due to his moral and physical abuse, after all…

I rang him, and he picked up right away. “You are calling me? That’s a first one!” He sounded elated. “Have you changed your mind? Do you believe that I am a new person now?”

“You are not a new person, James. Do you think it’s funny to threaten me by sending me a broken record? Do you think I am scared now?”

There was a quick pause at the other end, but then he promptly exploded, like in “good old times.” “What are you talking about? Are you putting all the blame on me again? I didn’t send anything! What, is it your new boyfriend sending you broken stuff? What a loser! See how well you had it with me—“

I hung up on him and put the phone down. That wasn’t him for sure… Hmm… I opened my laptop and put the band name in the search field. Only few results popped up about it being a young rock band from Portland, Oregon.

I wasn’t able to connect any dots except the fact that I had traveled to Portland on business a couple months earlier. The whole trip honestly seemed like a blur, because of my incessant crying and making the decision to finally leave James.

It was probably a good idea to look for clues inside the package. I rummaged through the sleeve but didn’t find any note. How did this person even know I like vinyl, but most importantly, how did they know my address?

With all the stress of late, I had no patience for letting this drag on, so I found the band’s email address on their website and emailed them an inquiry. The answer came back pretty soon.

“Wow, we are so excited that someone knows us in LA now, but so sorry the record came to you broken. Send us your address, and we will get you a new one for free. While we don’t know who sent it to you, this record is special to us, because it’s dedicated to our drummer’s sister who was going through cancer at the time and lost her ability to speak, but survived and is thriving now.”

That’s an interesting story… I turned the sleeve around and read some of the track titles; “Never Give Up”, “You Are Not Alone”, “Here for You.”

Just reading these simple titles warmed my heart. I did want to have this record now, even if just for the titles. I started emailing the band back, but then got distracted by a faint memory of a thing that had happened at Portland airport on my way back but got blocked from my mind by my tears and the state of complete despair.

I remembered ordering a latte at a coffee place and then sitting in the corner swallowing my tears. A lovely young barista noticed my state and brought the coffee over to my table together with my ID that I had dropped out of my wallet, while paying for my drink.

I thanked her profusely but she didn’t say anything back, just looked into my eyes with deep understanding and gave me a warm hug before disappearing behind the counter…

This girl had lived through so much more in her lifetime and yet she still found a way to share music with me that helped her own healing… I got back online and emailed the band asking for the address of the drummer’s sister. Even if we couldn’t talk to each other, I wanted to send her the biggest bunch of flowers and a thank-you note.

By the way, James stopped by the following day and picked up the rest of his stuff. Maybe it was because of the new confident me or maybe he truly believed I had got myself a vinyl-loving boyfriend, but that page in my book got finally closed.