Seven

Why did she never seem to get to where she was supposed to go? Seven looked up at the building in front of her and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"So much for the job interview," she muttered dryly. Seven was frequently late and often lost. She had long ago given up trying to fight it. Whenever she would try to turn around and head to her intended destination, or leave two hours early to be on time, she still always wound up back where she started or late. She started towards the building knowing that the reason why she was there would soon become apparent.

Just as she had taken her first step into the street, she was forced to jump back as a silver, used, 1997 Honda Civic with the front bumper duct taped on, sped by.

"---gonna get an eviction notice," she caught the deep voiced driver saying as she dodged the near death experience.

"This is why we look both ways when we cross the street," Seven muttered to herself, crossing the street with more care this time. It was a habit that she developed early on, and while it garnered strange looks from those around her, she didn't seem to care. She would vent her frustrations at minor inconveniences to the air or debate both sides of her argument. For one, she found that it saved time. But more than that, she knew that when you say something out loud, it becomes real, woven into the universe's coding. She never held back from whispering ideas into the void, knowing that now, that idea would find or implant itself into the head of the person who could actualize it. Looking both ways before crossing the street would tickle at the back of every pedestrian’s mind today.

Five feet from the door, a crumpled up blue paper dropped in her path. Seven looked up, figuring someone must have thrown it out from an open window. "At least recycle it! This is why global warming is a thing," she said darkly, picking up the paper before preceding to the door, intent on finding a recycling bin.

"You here for the audition?" The building's receptionist asked, nodding to the blue paper in Seven's hand. Seven looked at the paper for the first time noticing the words, "GUITARIST WANTED" along with a badly drawn graphic and some other information.

"It certainly seems that way," Seven said with a friendly smile. "Top floor," the receptionist said with a bored grunt. With friendly nod, Seven headed off down the hallway.

"You want me in a band now? I mean, that's fine but you better come up with something good cause I don't know how to play anything," she whispered, addressing her comment to the Universe at large. She wasn't expecting a verbal answer nor was she particularly worried. The Universe wanted her here for a reason and it would make sure she was equipped to handle the situation. It was just different and unexpected, but then again, when wasn't it? She stopped short in front of the elevator, glaring at the "out of order, please use stairs" sign taped to the door.

"I hate stairs," she muttered under her breath, before starting up the seven flights.

Sweaty and out of breath, she finally reached the seventh floor landing. Victoriously, she tugged at the door handle only to find it stop short, completely stuck. Trying again with similar results, she leaned against the door, breathing heavily and glaring out at nothing.

"So much for joining a band," she muttered viciously, throwing the blue paper against the wall. The flyer ricocheted off, rolling to a stop in front of the only other door on the landing. The "roof access" door, which Seven noticed, was slightly ajar. Picking up the flyer she continued up the stairs.

The roof was much brighter than it had been in the stairwell and Seven found herself squinting in the shock of light, doubled over, more out of breath than she had been before. Despite that, she still managed to make out the young man standing on the edge of the roof, looking at her wide eyed.

"Hold up...before you jump...just...let me catch...my breath," she heaved out, hands on her knees. She really didn't like stairs. The young man, she noted, was now looking at her like she'd grown another head. Not an unusual look for Seven to receive. Finally, able to breathe somewhat normally, she straightened, mildly amused that the young man had waited for her.

"Who the hell are you?"

"Seven."

"Like the number? That's your name?"

"Yup. And I was teased mercilessly for it in elementary school."

The man wasn't sure how to respond to this so he opted not to. He looked back out over the ledge, still ready to jump but feeling weird about doing it with another person there.

"You know, all things being equal, you should tell me your name now." Seven said.

"Why bother? It's not like it matters."

"Names are important. Or would you rather I just call you dark-blonde guy?"

"It's Ian." He sighed, frustrated at her presence.

"Nice to meet you Ian. I think you dropped this," she said, coming up next to him and offering him the flyer.

"You know, you should really recycle that if you don't want it anymore." He looked at her like she had just announced that she'd been inside Area 51, not taking the blue paper held out to him and remaining quiet.

"You know, I missed a job interview today." Seven sighed as she eyed the building she was fairly certain she was supposed to be at for her interview.

"What, up and decided last minute to pursue your dream in music?" Ian asked bitterly.

"Nope. I don't know how to play anything. I just sorta ended up here. Guess it's where the Universe wanted me, today."

"What planet are you from?"

"This one. You?" She responded with such seriousness that Ian honestly wasn't sure if she was joking or not. Again, unsure of how to answer, he remained silent. Seven had a lot of patience for life’s random twists and turns, but far less for people, and was growing annoyed by Ian's silence and inaction.

"Oh for god sakes, if you're gonna jump, jump. If not than get off the ledge and talk to me." Seven snapped.

"Excuse me, what? Are you insane! You want me to jump in front of you?"

"No. I don't want you to jump at all. And seeing as how you haven't yet and don't want to while I'm here, I don't think you really want to either. So quit doing that dumb thing where you pretend you don't have feelings and tell me why you're up here."

Ian was certain that no professional would have recommended such a tactic, but, oddly enough, for him, in this one particular scenario, he found it working. He didn't step off the ledge but he found himself wanting to talk.

"I put my life into music. I practiced guitar until my fingers bled and I loved every minute of it. I'm really good. I knew I was. I knew I could make a living at it. And my best friend, part of a real money earning band, holds auditions for a guitarist. I knew I was good enough. I'm better than their last guy. And he knows how good I am. He's been there with me for ever. Encouraged me the whole time. He's the one who told me to audition. And then he tells me I don't fit the style of the band. He knows how I play---why'd he even bother telling me to audition? He was supposed to help me. Look out for me. What garbage! People only look out for themselves. And if my own friend won't take me, no one will. What's the point?"

Ian suddenly found the prospect of jumping more appealing again, but he glanced over at Seven to see if she understood that he had no place left to go. What he had put his life into was failing him and his friend he had put his faith in, had turned his back on him. However, it appeared that Seven not only did not understand but, in fact, found this to be the dumbest thing she ever heard.

"So this wasn't the gig for you. So what?"

"So there is no gig for me! That was it! Even my own supposedly best friend won't have me in his band! I had faith in him--that he would pull through for me and--"

"And that's the problem. You shouldn't put faith in people or yourself. People make mistakes and are accident-prone. Putting faith in people is only gonna result in breaking you at your core. Faith is for the intangible."

"What, like the Universe?" Ian sneered.

"Yeah. Or God. Or Other Powers. Or even Music. Those things are concepts. Ideas. An idea doesn't make mistakes, it just gives you something to guide you."

"I did put my faith in music."

"No, you put your faith in yourself, in your talent. And you're a person. You make mistakes and you fail, and that makes you lose faith in yourself and look where you are now. If you really put your faith in Music, you'd know there's always another gig. You'd listen to the melodies you're playing and let them lead you to where they want to go, instead of trying to insert yourself into them and control them."

Ian was almost frightened by how much comfort her words gave him and how much sense this insane woman made. Although one thing didn't sit well with him.

"So you're saying I should never trust myself or others again and just follow an abstract idea?"

"Hey now, trust is not the same thing as faith. Of course you should trust yourself the most and others within the degree that they've earned it. Trust's built for people. It's given based on how much it's deserved, lost based on how big the screw up was, and gained back based on how well the patch up worked. Faith is whole hearted and fragile, and much closer to the core of your being. Once it's broken, so are you. So don't go carelessly placing it in things that are flawed by nature."

Ian stepped down off the ledge and looked out at the city below, cracking a wry smile.

"I carelessly placed my faith and now I'm broken. So what's the point then? All that's left is to jump."

Seven shook her head a little looking out as well.

"I don't know that there is a point. But just because something's broken doesn't mean you can't glue it back together."

"You're contradicting yourself."

"So does life." Seven responded carelessly.

Ian almost laughed, feeling strangely light.

"Ok, for the sake of argument, let's say you're right. Faith is fragile and I broke it and wanna glue it back together. What's the glue?"

The question apparently threw Seven off.

"How should I know? Um...willpower? Clarity...Something like that. I never really thought about it, figure it out yourself."

Ian glanced down at the wrinkled blue paper Seven still held in her hand. He took the flyer from her and smoothed it out a little. Having returned the flyer to him, Seven pushed away from the ledge, walking towards the stairs.

"So I should recycle this, right?" He called from behind her with a dry smile.

"Yup!" Seven laughed, giving a small wave before disappearing down the steps.

"...Have faith in the Music, huh? Guess I've got some listening to do." Ian murmured softly to himself before looking out at the city again, humming quietly.

***

Seven got out of the taxi in front of where she should have been from the beginning, fully intending to apologize for missing her interview and beg for a second chance. She raced to the building, but stopped short at the sound of a vaguely familiar deep voice.

"They hired me on the spot! They were so impressed with my interview and since the other candidate was a no-show, I got the job! I don't have to worry about eviction anymore! The Lord really does provide!"

She watched with interest as the man talking on the phone walked by her and got into a used, silver, 1997 Honda Civic with the front bumper duct taped on. Seven smiled softly, looking up a little.

"Alright, you're forgiven for the eight flights of stairs," she said into the void.

Seven never seemed to get to where she should be, but she always ended up at where she needed to go.