Living In the Background

“Jackson, it’s time you face the facts, it’s over you need to move on,” Tim said. 

Jackson giggled to himself, his face clouded behind the cigarette held between his thin lips. 

“But there’s still so much I can do,” Jackson’s eyes glared at Tim from behind his thick glass. “I mean I’m only 29, I’m still young, there are more and maybe even better opportunities waiting for me out there. 

Jackson placed the cigarette between his index and middle finger leaning it against an ashtray that sat in front of him. The whitish-grey ash limped over onto a small hill of older ash. Tim watched quietly his pen and pad in hand as he waited for something to happen, anything that would get him out of his conversation. 

“I still don’t understand what you want from me, Jackson.”

Tim scratched his head. 

“Well you’re the journalist, can’t you just write another article on me like you first did?” Jackson blew out smoke from his nose. 

“That was different Jackson, that was the beginning of your band’s career, but now it’s different,” Tim’s voice trailed off. 

“Yea but you work for Big Time Music, the biggest music magazine in all of England you can’t just whip something up for me?” Jackson’s thin lips creased into a smile. 

“Jackson if you want I can ask my editor what she thinks but like I said since your band is no longer together I hate to say it but nobody will really care,” it looked like Tim swallowed his tongue. 

Jackson finally put out his cigarette, rubbing it in the blue glass ashtray like it was a strain. The two friends were for once at odds with each other.  The one friend who chased a dream and while successful has now come crashing down, and the other friend who didn’t take a risk and went on to find moderate success in the field he was in. A friendship that spans almost 20 plus years may finally end over something so small. 

Tim and Jackson let the room fill up with silence. The occasional gust of a car speeding by reminded them there was in the middle of what should’ve been a meeting between two friends. 

“I get it,” Jackson finally spoke, “you’re jealous!” 

A gut-wrenching sensation hit Tim he slapped his pen and pad on the table in front of him.

“You know that’s not true, if anything I was the one who was most supportive of you. Not even your family cared that you made it big but I was there.” 

“Then why don’t you keep that same mentality and support me here and now too? You were the first journalist to cover my band, the first to break in our latest story, you even did an article on our breakup. I’ve helped your career more than you know,” Jackson reached for his cigarette box for another smoke. 

“Jackson, those will kill you!” Tim said. 

“Don’t switch the subject,” Jackson said, sticking the cigarette in the side of the lips and using his black Zippo lighter. 

Tim got up from his seat and walked to the window of his office. The room was sparsely decorated. He looked out of the window down to the street where he watched pedestrians go about their day. 

“Don’t you think you’re living too much in the past Jackson?” Tim turned back to look at him. 

A smirk appeared behind his cigarette as he wrinkled his nose, he sucked in his cheeks then puffed out a smokey O.Tim paced around the room again finally taking a seat at his desk. 

“And you won’t let this go will you Jackson? Every time I see you we talk about the same thing. Why aren’t you moving on with your life? We both went to college for journalism. I can help you find a position here, it won’t be anything huge but it’s a start,” a shy smile formed on Tim’s face. 

“Tim, I don’t want to work a mundane job, I want to go back to the life I had last year. Everything was going great didn’t you see that? The fans, the notoriety, the…” Jackson coughed from the cigarette smoke, “money.” 

“And now that’s over Jackson, there’s nothing wrong with that, lot’s of bands don’t stick around for a while,” Tim said. 

“You don’t understand Tim, you know nothing about the life I lived for those five years, I was everywhere! Atlantica was going to be the next big thing! I remember what my manager said, Tim.” 

“Right the same manager who broke up the band since your second album was a flop,” Tim nodded his head in agreement. 

“Ok so there’s no hope of Atlantica but what about my solo career? I still know people in the industry, they can help me out.” Jackson was annoyed. 

“Sure but you keep advertising yourself as ‘Jackson McShane of Atlantica’ when Atlantica isn’t a thing anymore,” Tim folded his arms across the chest. 

Jackson put the cigarette on the ashtray and left it there. The smoke rose up creating a smokey wall between the two. He slouched over and rubbed both hands across his face, bringing them up to his hair slicking it back before he dropped his hands before him. 

“You don’t understand,” Jackson said, ad if to himself. 

He looked up to Tim and suddenly jumped up on his feet knocking the chair behind him over. 

“You don’t understand” he repeated again this time louder, “what it was like for me. All the work I did. The background vocals, and background dancing for different musicians. It even got to the point where I felt like I’d been living in the background of my own life, and for once it wasn’t like that. I was the center of attention, I was everywhere for everyone to see!”

Jackson looked down at the table, his unfinished cigarette's dim light distracted him for a moment. Rubbing his face he drew his gaze back at Tim. 

“Sorry about the chair,” he lifted it from the ground and slumped back down on it. 

“Jackson those days are over, while you had a good run it just wasn’t meant to be,” Tim said. “I know there isn’t anything stopping you from a solo career, but have you thought about it? Honestly, Jackson have you taken the time to actually think things through? Because from the sound of it you haven’t.”

“I haven't gotten a chance to,” Jackson did not meet Tim’s eyes.

A knock on the door interrupted the two. 

“Come in,” Tim said. 

A woman dressed in a simple white dress peered through the door. 

“Sorry to both of you two, I just heard some noise coming from here and I wanted to check if everything is alright,” she looked suspiciously at Jackson who smiled awkwardly at her. 

“No, no, everything is fine,” Tim said. 

The woman closed the door behind her without a goodbye, the muffled steps of her heels slowly faded away. The two waited until the noise completely vanished. 

“Jackson you can’t act like this, because if you do then nobody will listen to you.” 

Jackson nodded like a child being scolded by their strict parents. He placed his hands on his lap and let his eyes wander around Tim’s office. He eventually looked back at Tim who was looking through his files. 

“Your 15 minutes are up,” Tim blurted. 

“My what?” 

“Your 15 minutes, have you ever heard of that phrase?” 

“Can’t say I have,” Jackson's magnified eye looked cartoonishly confused. 

“In the press, we always say how someone gets their 15 minutes of fame, and while some feel more like 15 seconds others don’t,” Tim had his elbows on his desk and he leaned forward. 

“So all I am is just yesterday’s news,” Jackson adam’s apple looked as if it was about to tear out of their throat. 

“I’m afraid so,” Tim met his eyes and could see the desperation leaking from them like tears. “I may be able to do another article on you Jackson, but it might just be like a retrospect of Atlantica, I’m sure you can plug something you’re working on but besides that, I don’t think I can wave a magic wand and your career comes back. Remember all I do is write articles, it’s up to the reader to go out and search for you.” 

Jackson nodded his head seeming to finally understand the world he was in. He wasn’t going to have a successful Phil Collins-type solo career. He was just the frontman of a one-hit-wonder band, and while it was good for those five years it eventually came crashing down on top. 

He got up from his chair and walked to the door but before he opened it he looked back at Tim who watched him quietly. Jackson looked down at his shoes, the first pair he bought with the money he made from Atlantica, the glamorous life of a wannabe pop star was now over. 

“Do you think I’ll be remembered?” Jackson said. 

Tim leaned back in his chair and it creaked slightly from his weight. 

“Maybe in time Jackson.” 

And then he swung the door in front of him and looked back at Tim and nodded. Jackson closed the door behind him and left Tim alone once more.  Gone from reality, gone from fame, but maybe that isn’t what matters. Artists come and go but it is those who are remembered that stay forever. 

Nahai 2021