The Soloist Page #4

And we're comfortable together.

Thank you, Leeann.

That's so nice to hear you say that.

I call him Piggy Boy and stuff like that,

but I shouldn't,

because he's in a bad shape.

We thought his problem was cocaine.

- But it was pancreatic cancer.

- Yeah?

KK's French, Egyptian,

and African-American,

and I am a quarter French.

I know about disease.

I know how to treat it.

Now I understand people.

I can help so many people fast,

and I can comfort them.

They've got Italian nurses, 6'4",

in the county hospital.

And one of them talked to me

like I was trash.

Now, this is probably that the hour

of power that the Bible speaks of,

somebody who speaks a harsh

language, will have what the computer...

The computer is probably the beast.

My aunt ended up with

because she didn't want to go to bed

with her sex-crazed husband.

He was paying call girls $100 apiece,

going to bed with them

and coming home

and giving my aunt all kinds of diseases.

I got sick. I was working over there.

And I got sicker than a dog one day.

I got an infection in my esophagus.

The neighbor's dog was sick one day

and the only thing I had on hand

was a packet of tetracycline

for my chickens.

So they wouldn't... They were too busy

to treat her at the moment.

- You're fantastic.

- They'd already given her...

Ice cold. Ice cold.

"Points West" by Steve Lopez.

I put Nathaniel's new instruments

in safekeeping and waited.

Fifteen minutes.

Thirty minutes. An hour.

Too long, in fact,

'cause guess what, schmuck,

you got a deadline tomorrow.

And the story of a guy not showing up

is not a story.

Nathaniel. Nathaniel. Nathaniel.

Okay.

So, you guys are basically united

by non-belief.

- That's right.

- Yeah.

So, do you non-gather?

And non-worship?

We tried, but...

- Not a lot to talk about.

- Yeah.

- Now we have a website.

- Swell.

Anything else you don't believe in?

- Sorry.

- Yeah, actually...

- Sorry.

- Okay.

- Lopez.

- Can you hear this?

Sorry, can't hear you.

I said, can you hear this?

This family thinks it can have

this conversation at every step.

This is my apartment.

This is my apartment.

This is my apartment.

Nathaniel Anthony Ayers Junior.

N-A-T-H-A...

- I need Charles for the practice.

...because you're so good.

I am so good, but I still have

to tweak things so I can win.

There's a fine line in performances.

- I mean, I can't let her beat me.

- I really have to practice.

Half an hour is all it takes for me.

Half an hour.

Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel?

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel Ayers.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel Ayers.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel. Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel.

- Ayers!

- Nathaniel!

Ma, I'm good, honestly, it's just that...

- I'm real proud of you, baby.

- Thank you.

It's just that I'm not always so sure

I know what's going on, and...

You are gonna be fine.

It's so frightening, and...

And I'm having trouble

differentiating certain things.

Keeping things separated.

If you'd like to make a call,

please hang up and try again.

If you need help...

- That's where your pain is stored.

- Nathaniel.

- Nathaniel. Nathaniel.

- Paint your chest white.

Protect her from the pain.

Nathaniel.

I'll be here to protect you from the pain.

- I'll protect you from the pain.

- I'll protect you from the pain.

I'll protect you from the pain.

I'll protect you from their eyes and ears.

Nathaniel.

Are you finding this piece to be

beyond your abilities?

They're listening to you, Nathaniel.

They can hear your thoughts, Nathaniel.

- I can hear your thoughts, Nathaniel.

- Well, then I suggest you do better.

They can hear your thoughts, Nathaniel.

- Don't think, Nathaniel.

- Bar 179, ladies and gentlemen.

- Run away, Nathaniel.

- Run away, Nathaniel.

Run away, Nathaniel.

- Come on. Run.

- You should run.

- You'll have to hide, Nathaniel.

- Run!

- You'll never get out of there.

- You'll never get out of there.

- Run! Run! Run!

- You'll never get out.

- Quick, like a jackrabbit.

- Nathaniel.

They're white, heartless, aren't they?

- Heartless.

- Hide.

Hide for me here, Nathaniel.

We see you, Nathaniel.

- They'll see you, Nathaniel.

- Whiteness.

- There's no hiding, Nathaniel.

- Whiteness.

You'll never hide well enough.

... turn you white...

- Whiteness!

- No hiding for you, Nathaniel.

- Whiteness. Whiteness.

Whiteness.

You'll take it,

because I want my out.

Detroit? Anger management.

It's amazing, right?

Does it look like

I need some anger management to you?

Yeah. Man, I'll take him any day.

He quiets everybody down.

- What does he have, schizophrenia?

- I don't know.

Well, we should hook him up with

psychiatric services and find out, right?

Yeah, I don't get

too hung up on diagnosis.

What do you mean?

What do I mean?

But how do you help somebody

if you don't know what they have?

Look at these people.

Every one of them's been diagnosed

more than you can imagine.

And as far as I can tell,

it hasn't done them any good.

But he needs medication, right?

I'll tell you one thing he doesn't need.

One more person telling him

he needs medication.

Son of a b*tch.

- Where'd he go?

- Who?

- Nathaniel.

- Don't ask me, dude.

- Thanks, Steve.

- You're welcome, Steve.

- Keep walking. Keep walking!

- There's a cop over there.

- He'll shoot a nigga with a pop.

- You got that cheese, huh?

- You're right about that cheese.

- Hold on, hold on. Hold up.

Hey, wait!

Want to buy some candy?

Five-o. Five-o.

No way this is gonna be...

That boy's not the real police.

Oh, man.

Hell, man. Where's my piece at, nigga?

Back up.

I went over to the library.

I thought I might pick up

some sheet music.

Sonata Number 1, F Major, Opus 5,

Sonata Number 2 in A Major,

Opus 69 for String Quartet.

What happened?

Somebody get beat up?

Overdose, I think.

The other night, someone...

There was a beating over here.

Someone got bones rearranged

in their face. It was just crazy.

I don't understand why anybody

would do something like that.

- This where you sleep?

- I used to sleep on Wall Street,

but it's too dirty.

You know, Mr. Lopez, my vision...

I hate to admit it, but I'm gonna have

to be like Beethoven.

Just do what he did and just die.

Thank you, Mr. Lopez.

My vision is not far-off stuff,

just basically getting

across the street safely.

Honor thy father and mother,

and then, hopefully,

the music will take care of itself.

That's really all you can do.

I mean, when you think about it,

there's not much that

you can do other than that.

- Would you care for a drink?

- I'm fine.

Thanks.

Gotta tuck this guy in here,

nice and safe.

Put that down there.

Make sure this corner...

You can rest on this.

Do you think of writers often, Mr. Lopez?

Do you think of writers

the way I think about musicians?

I write for a living,

and it's not like it used to be.

I love thinking about musicians.

I imagine Beethoven and Mozart

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