I'm Here
By Aliena
()
About this ebook
A world-famous musician.
A trail of scandals.
A dearly departed loved one.
A life headed nowhere.
Many years ago, the name Joy Liron became well-known halfway across the globe. He was an internationally acclaimed teen idol, whose record-breaking hits sent millions of hearts aflutter. With his good looks, unique talen
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I'm Here - Aliena
I'm Here
Aliena
Ukiyoto Publishing
All global publishing rights are held by
Ukiyoto Publishing
Published in 2024
Content Copyright ©Aliena
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in a retrieval system, in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated, without the publisher’s prior consent, in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published.
www.ukiyoto.com
Dedication
To The Heavenly Father, the Source of all skills and talents, thank You for the divine support and intervention, and for the will to succeed.
To my family and friends who pushed me to achieve my dreams…
To my teachers in Creative and Journalistic Writing who gave me the tools to keep going, no words will ever be enough to thank you for your patience and encouragement.
To Ukiyoto Publishing who opened the door of opportunities for me, thank you very much and I look forward to doing more projects with you.
To my learners who supported me in the pursuit of novel writing, and who readily promised to get a copy once this book gets published, thank you for encouraging me to press on.
To my character inspirations for Joy and his brother Ethan, I hope you find your peace and bounce back to the limelight you once enjoyed, because you deserve to be there. The world may not believe you right now, but somewhere else, someone does. Liebe ist shalom.
ALIENA
Contents
A Joy Full of Sorrows
The Meddler
Nosy Little Lady
Ghost
Let’s Go Home
The Missing Piece
The News
Swarmed
The Detour
In the Clear…?
Moving On…
The Confession
Trip
Facing the Music
Al Fine
Brighter Days
Offering
A Part of Me
Welcome to My World
Wee Hours
Out of the Blue…
Free
Where Are You Now?
Epilogue
About the Author
A Joy Full of Sorrows
I
t was already five in the afternoon. The cool air started to feel a bit colder, and the sun was about to rise in another direction. Even so, a man has been lingering in a secluded space in a rose-adorned cemetery, seated half-pike on top of a black, granite grave. One of his feet was stepping on a bed of newly planted ornamentals in the center of the tomb, while the other rested on the thick, granite border. His back leaned on a wooden headstone that carried a fresh, long stem of red rose on top and a silver marker where the name of a woman was engraved.
CELESTINE MÜLLER-LIRON
5. 1984-12. 18. 2023
His head tilted against the headstone while his long fingers cupped the flushed, bearded face that was drenched with his tears. The chocolate strands of his hair touched the broad back of his shaking shoulders. Only time could tell how long he had been in that position.
Beside him were seven bottles of Bonpland, five of them empty and lying like freshly cut trees on top of the landscape. Those bottles were still full at nine o'clock this morning. He had been drowning himself in those expensive rums since they buried his wife in that very tomb, three days ago.
For Axel, who had been taking that route home and observing him from behind a wide tree, it was one thing to hear his emotions in her vast collection of cassette tapes and CDs. But to see him pour out those feelings in real, unguarded moments such as this broke her heart into pieces. He must have deeply adored the woman who lay lifeless beneath the green-carpeted ground, and now she was gone forever, the muse of all his heartbreaking songs.
The death of his wife reached the news, but the family chose not to disclose the reason anymore. He only requested that the public just pray with them during that trying time.
She couldn't decide what to cry about: the crazy idea that she wanted to wrap her arms around him and absorb all his pain and suffering, or the fact that even if she tried following him in that part of the cemetery, he'd never give her that look that he used to give his wife.
Her hand rose to wipe the line that her tear drew on her left cheek. She shouldn't be caring about the man anymore. Her days of admiring his music were long over, and all she had to deal with at present were grieving clients and dead bodies. Her hopes and dreams of getting noticed by him should have been a thing of the past.
But conscience dictated her not to leave the man alone in that state. He had been a huge part of her growing-up days, despite the vast distance, and she found it fitting to repay the things he had done to her even without him knowing.
Two days ago, when his brother tried to take him home, he growled at the poor guy like a newly-admitted patient at a mental institute. A number of men in suits even had to arrive to get him inside a blue, expensive-looking car. And when she was sure that the area was empty, she tiptoed to the grave of the woman and stole an empty bottle of Bonpland to add to her collections. She chuckled bitterly at the memory. Some habits die hard.
The vibration of her phone caught her attention. It was from Jo.
She smiled as she read the contents of the message:
'Wag mo nang bantayan ‘yang idol mo. Matanda na 'yan. (Stop watching over your idol. He's old enough to take care of himself.)
Jo seemed to be an extension of their mother, watching over her every move since he was old enough to go to school. He knew everything about her, including the people she admired and followed.
Okay,
she said to herself.
She struggled to insert her phone in the pocket of her jeans and took one last look back at the grave before leaving. But her mind changed when she saw the man sprawled on the granite surface.
My God,
she hissed, and dashed to the grave to check on him.
A revolting odor caused her to stop running as she got closer. The stench of rum, sweat, dried saliva, and vomit filled the air. She scrunched up her nose, but as she couldn’t just leave the poor man behind, she continued to move closer until she was sitting by his side. One of her hands pinched her nose tightly to keep the stench from entering her nostrils, while the other went to one of his arms and shook him hard.
Joy?
she called in a nasal voice. Joy Liron, can you hear me?
She shook his arm again, but to no avail. Receiving no response, she touched a part of his neck and sighed in relief as she felt a slight throbbing. She tapped his face slightly as a final attempt to wake him up, but all he did was release a low, raspy groan.
Knocked out is real,
she thought. But it's better than a dead musician, isn't it?
She momentarily took a handkerchief from the pocket of her jacket, folded it diagonally, and tied it about her face to cover her nose.
Now where am I? Right, contact.
She gently searched the thick, dirty, moss green jacket that he wore over a black shirt, being careful not to come in contact with the pieces of vomit that stuck to his clothes, and found a phone. Her hands trembled, partly because she could only have that kind of phone in her wildest dreams, but a bigger part was because she was face to face with the man whom she could only dream of seeing in person. Quickly banishing the thought, she clicked the screen, only to scratch her head in frustration.
Password protected? she hissed in her head.
Axel couldn’t attempt to type anything. Even if she had been tempted to use the name of his wife on the prompt, she knew it would have been an easy giveaway. A public figure like Joy would not risk his full identity using a basic password, but that could be a possibility, considering how sentimental he had been over his wife for a couple of days since the woman's internment.
She raised the phone and pointed it at his face. Bingo, it was unlocked! Thank the power of face recognition.
Naturally, the first thing she saw were the happy faces of Joy, his wife, and his children in the background. Her heart ached a little, like any avid fan would have felt when their idols tied the knot, but she tried to stifle the negative feeling and moved on to do her unfounded duty. Although she could not understand the words on his phone, the icons made it easy for her to locate where the directory was.
The first person to pop into her head was Joy’s brother and bandmate, Ethan. He would eventually recognize her, as they had been constantly communicating about funeral preparations. Even as her fingers shook, she clicked the number and waited for it to ring.
When a deep, familiar voice sounded on the other side, she started speaking.
Sir Ethan, it’s me,
she started, struggling for composure. "I’m sorry I had to use your brother’s phone, but I thought it would be the