From: 5150
Subject: Steel

Joseph dragged his heels as he came home... he could not believe his fate.
Cancer.  Prostate.

Terminal.  A few months, more likely only weeks.

He thought of his life... the occasional girlfriend, more likely as not.
Estranged parents, they never understood when he simply stopped believing
in their God.  No friends.  No, he had two.  Jay.  And Belle.  They both
sung his songs, each in their way.

He walked over to an old guitar case in the corner, and pulled Belle out of
it.  And he played.  He was a damn good player.  He started to compose a
poignant, startling tune; hard edged, staccato.  His left fingers dug deep
into the steel strings, his right hand an oversized pick that slammed into
the strings.  The B string, irked at being harassed, pushed back, cut deep
into his index finger.  As if following its lead, the other oppressed strings
seemed to retaliate against the force that held them, and drew blood.  The
blood covered the strings and fretboard, while his other hand was getting
sliced to ribbons on the other end.

Joseph gasped as someone knocked on the door.  Jay had arrived.  "Dude, the
doctor... he told me..."

Joe nodded.  "Come in, man..."

"So, um... what now?"

"What now?"  Joe stared out the window, looked around his apartment.  "Now,
i guess i get rid of whats mine, while i'm still here..."

He picked up Belle.  "Jay, take care of her.  She's yours."

"Joe, thanks, but i've never picked up a guitar in my life.  You know that.
You should give it to someone else, someone who'd know how to pl--"

"There IS no one else.  Take it, dammit."

Jay bit back tears.  He picked up Belle and put her in her case.  "So, you'll
be ok, Joe?"

"Yeah... as long as i know Belle will be ok.  I'll just contemplate life,
for now..."

"Ok, see ya tomorrow."

"Maybe not."

-----

It had been maybe a week after Joe had died.  Jay still hadn't opened Belle's
case; he figured he'd sell it to someone, there would always someone who could
use a good Celebrity Ovation.

"Hmm, what the heck, let's fool around."  Jay picked up Belle and started to
pluck away, when he noticed the bloodstained strings.  Immediately he
remembered Joe's words, "... take care of her, she's yours."

"Belle, where's Joe?" he whispered, as he placed his hand over the frets.
Suddenly he felt his fingers moving, placed into a barre chord.  He smiled.
"Talk to me, Joe," he whispered, as his hands started playing one of Joe's
old anthems, and his voice flowed strong.

5150