Bailar Memoria by Lance Rivas

An old rusted 1974 Chevy truck drives over an old wooden bridge on the east side of Seiling. Snow is falling all around and the sky never seemed sadder. Bailar Memoria is driving to see his wife, Clarity. He hasn’t seen her in over a year. Ever since the separation he has been working a steady job and staying off the drugs. However, in every case, relapse does happen; this is one of those times.
 Here Bailar was, a man that once had dreams, big dreams, dreams that could fill the entire grey sky with a light from his heart. He plays the trumpet, he can sing, he can make an entire audience laugh. If there is one thing Bailar could not do, it’s keeping his mind focused. Clarity helped him with that. She met him at the House of Jazz when she was a waitress. All he had to do was give her a wink and she was captivated. They got married and had two kids.  A few years past and Clarity saw that Bailar started coming home most nights half drunk and stoned from the club he just played at. She couldn’t handle seeing the sky filled dreams and the light that came from his heart start to fade. She had to let him go.
Here Bailar is now, driving down a winding snowy road to find the one thing that he cared about the most. He never meant to hurt her. He never meant to get caught up in the mess of playing gigs at clubs. He just wanted to make his name known; he only wanted to change the way music was played. The way it was heard, the way it moved the crowd. The more he played and the more he went to the clubs, the less he heard the music, the less he heard the laughter, the less he felt his Clarity.
Here Bailar is, at the driveway of his old home. Smoke coming from the chimney and the lights are on in the kitchen; she must be cooking. Stopping just before he gets to the driveway, he gets out of the rusted old truck and stands at the driveway of his old home, his old place of hope and peace, his Clarity. Now stumbling towards the doorway to his house he hears his dog barking from the backyard. The lights come on in the living room and then the porch light comes on. Bailar brushes himself off and straightens his clothes out and makes sure that he looks nothing less than his best for Clarity. A silhouette appears at the doorway; a corner of the curtain is lifted, not enough to see in though. Bailar stumbles closer to the door with as big of a smile he could give. The door opens and Bailar begins to cry.
“Your still beautiful Claire,” Bailar says breathlessly
There a woman stood, wearing a winter coat and coveralls. Her face withered from the cold of winter and the years she lived. She looks at Bailar and tears come from her eyes.
“Bailar, why? Why do you come here? Look at you. You’re drunk. You can barely stand there. I told you to not come here.”
“I had to…I had to see you. Im lonely, I made a mistake. I…” sob Bailar falling to his knees “I can’t hear the music any more, im deaf to the world I knew before. Claire, I was doing so good, I just…today I…Claire?”
Another figure came to the door, a big figure, like that of a man.
“What’s going on?” Said the figure
“Nothing babe, just go tuck the kids in and I’ll be in there in a bit,” Claire said to the figure. “Bailar, I think you should go. There’s nothing here for you.”
Here Bailar is, broken and ashamed, crawling back to his truck and driving away from his Clarity. Leaving his former home, leaving his old life. Driving back to the life he chose over Clarity. It’s still snowing, and the sky has never looked so sad.