The Soloist Page #9

Like you did at the start?

I ain't playing with you.

I'm saying I do.

It means you and me together forever.

So that's why I'm saying I do.

- I love you, Lois.

- I love you, too, Darryl.

Disguise himself now as...

They disguise themselves...

Where is Los Angeles?

Cleveland?

And...

We...

We had some life, didn't we?

Yeah.

Yeah.

Beethoven's Triple Concerto, right?

- Yeah.

- It's a good one.

I liked it.

Mr. Ayers, I'm gonna give your sister

a ride to the hotel.

You don't have to

call me that, Mr. Lopez.

I know. I want to. I should have been

calling you that all along.

I said such terrible things

to you, Mr. Lopez.

I... I hate myself for saying those things.

Sometimes friends piss

each other off, right?

It's part of the deal.

I can't imagine that you would want to be

my friend after I said all those things.

I just...

Mr. Ayers,

I'm honored to be your friend.

"Points West" by Steve Lopez.

A year ago, I met a man

who was down on his luck

and thought I might be able to help him.

I don't know that I have.

Yes, my friend Mr. Ayers

now sleeps inside.

He has a key. He has a bed.

But his mental state, and his well-being,

are as precarious now

as they were the day we met.

There are people who tell me

I've helped him.

Mental health experts who say

that the simple act of being someone's

friend can change his brain chemistry,

improve his functioning in the world.

I can't speak for Mr. Ayers

in that regard.

Maybe our friendship has helped him.

But maybe not.

I can, however, speak for myself.

I can tell you that by witnessing

Mr. Ayers's courage,

his humility, his faith

in the power of his art,

I've learned the dignity of being loyal

to something you believe in.

Of holding onto it, above all else.

Of believing, without question,

that it will carry you home.

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