The Heart's Ashes
Page 30
“Um, no.” I shook off the eerie feeling. “Not anymore.”
Mike, keeping his eyes on the street, ushered me inside by the arm, then took my bag and placed it on the hallstand. “How was work?”
“Same.”
“Well, first thing tomorrow I want you to ring and tell them to stick their job up their—”
“Uh, Mike?” I danced from foot to foot, trying to get into my kitchen. “Why are you stopping me from passing?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes.” I tried to get past again. “You are.”
“Em?” Mike jerked his chin up, seeming to send his voice behind him, and the soft lemon light of the kitchen responded, spilling warmth into the darkness beyond my roadblock best friend. He smiled down at me and rolled his arm in a wide circle as he said, “Surprise.”
For some reason, my eyes automatically followed his hand, staying there, confused for a second, until I noticed Emily by the wall in my soon-to-be-music room. Her wide, enthusiastic smile held anticipation.
“What?” I said, a little confused.
“Em. You need to move,” Mike said, as if he were talking to a flat note.
“Oh. Sorry.” She jiggled about, not sure which way to go, then finally moved to her right, revealing a splash of white in front of the window behind her.
There, lit by the bluish glow of the moon and a line of tea-light candles across its glossy top, was a baby grand piano—a mini version of the ones my heroes use in their soloist performances.
I nearly fell to my knees, but covered my mouth with two hands instead. “Where did this come from?”
“I bought it for you,” Mike said simply, as if he was talking about a thirty-dollar shirt.
“Mike. Why?” I folded over a little, unable to take another step toward the piano. The piano! Oh my God.
Mike laughed lightly and placed a supportive palm to my lower back. “Come on. Come sit.”
I’d never seen a piano in a space I owned before. Of course, I’d always dreamed of it, envisioned it, but...but never believed it possible. I walked with the pace of a person in shock, my eyes wide, my legs rigid, and sat on the felt-covered stool, running my fingers along the pearly gloss.
“Now, I know you don’t like people spending money on you—” Mike knelt beside me; I dragged my teary eyes away from my present to look at him. “So, I figured I’d buy this for you, and you can repay me by letting me stay in your house until I buy my own.”
“You know I’d do that anyway.”
“I know.” He nodded and smiled.
Emily sat beside me, waking me from whatever world I’d slipped into to cope with bewilderment. “I can’t believe this. I—”
“You like it?” Mike said, standing up.
“Like? I love.” I laughed a little.
“Well, test it out.” Emily grabbed my hand and placed it on the keys.
“I can’t.” I dropped my hand back into my lap. “I...I feel numb, like I want to cry and laugh and play every song I know—all at the same time.”
Mike and Emily looked at each other, poorly hiding the glittering joy in their eyes.
“God,” I said, touching the keys again. “You even knew exactly which one I wanted.”
Mike practically snorted out the hilarity. “Anyone who’s ever listened to you talk for an hour does, baby.”
Against the white keys, my long, pale fingers looked welcome and belonging. I pressed down lightly so they wouldn’t make any sound, but I could feel the solid, responding weight of them under my touch. It felt like coming home, like the hug you get off your dad at the end of a really bad day, or like the theme song to the sitcom your mum watches every weeknight.
Despite teaching piano, it had been a very long time since I actually played—for myself—for anyone. I wanted nothing more than to shed the proverbial chains of my music-less world and run the tracks, play the most powerful piece I could think of—one that used all my fingers and possibly my toes—but I had to do one thing first.
I launched off the stool, wrapping myself around Mike at full speed, sending him stumbling back a few steps until his hips smacked into the piano. His musky scent and the warmth of his chin against my brow, his gristly stubble pricking into my hairline, became my world for a tight squeeze. “I love you, Mike—thank you so much.”
He cupped a heavy hand to the back of my head and nodded, clearing his throat.
“Okay.” I stepped back, swiping my tears. “Now I’ll play for you.”
Snuggling up on the couch in the front lounge room, my eyes wandered to the lake; its beauty stealing attention from the book in hand. Wind blew soft ripples over the dark water, making the lake look deep—like the thoughts in my mind.
Every time I played the piano over the last few days, I tried so hard not to imagine David coming up behind me, whispering in my ear about silver planes and pyramids—tried not imagine him placing my silver locket around my neck and begging me not to return it, ever again. But, thinking about not thinking about him made me think about him. My chest sunk.
When is that stupid girl in me going to learn?
The book landed on the coffee table, luckily, since I wasn’t really aiming for it, as I jumped up.
The miles of self-reflection one can achieve by looking at a lonely lake will have to wait—I’ve got a deep burn in my fingers that needs to be released on the keys of my new piano.
After a while, the physical sting inspiration caused in my fingertips eased, and I played more thoughtfully. I felt so refreshed, like dipping my face in a pond of cool water on a hot day, and the burden of my aching soul, searing for the absence David, didn’t seem so severe.
“Good to see you writing songs again,” Mike noted as he sat beside me on the piano stool.
“How’d you know I was writing?”
“Uh—due to the constant note-tapping, then stopping.” He raised his brows a few times, the lines on his forehead forming three rippled indents.
“Oh, sorry. Am I bugging you?” I popped my pen behind my ear and shuffled the sheets of paper into a neat pile on the stand.
“Not one bit, baby. I actually just came to tell you I’m off to the station—gotta drop those papers in before I start next week.”
“I still can’t believe you’re swapping the beat for a desk.”
Mike, keeping his eyes on the street, ushered me inside by the arm, then took my bag and placed it on the hallstand. “How was work?”
“Same.”
“Well, first thing tomorrow I want you to ring and tell them to stick their job up their—”
“Uh, Mike?” I danced from foot to foot, trying to get into my kitchen. “Why are you stopping me from passing?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes.” I tried to get past again. “You are.”
“Em?” Mike jerked his chin up, seeming to send his voice behind him, and the soft lemon light of the kitchen responded, spilling warmth into the darkness beyond my roadblock best friend. He smiled down at me and rolled his arm in a wide circle as he said, “Surprise.”
For some reason, my eyes automatically followed his hand, staying there, confused for a second, until I noticed Emily by the wall in my soon-to-be-music room. Her wide, enthusiastic smile held anticipation.
“What?” I said, a little confused.
“Em. You need to move,” Mike said, as if he were talking to a flat note.
“Oh. Sorry.” She jiggled about, not sure which way to go, then finally moved to her right, revealing a splash of white in front of the window behind her.
There, lit by the bluish glow of the moon and a line of tea-light candles across its glossy top, was a baby grand piano—a mini version of the ones my heroes use in their soloist performances.
I nearly fell to my knees, but covered my mouth with two hands instead. “Where did this come from?”
“I bought it for you,” Mike said simply, as if he was talking about a thirty-dollar shirt.
“Mike. Why?” I folded over a little, unable to take another step toward the piano. The piano! Oh my God.
Mike laughed lightly and placed a supportive palm to my lower back. “Come on. Come sit.”
I’d never seen a piano in a space I owned before. Of course, I’d always dreamed of it, envisioned it, but...but never believed it possible. I walked with the pace of a person in shock, my eyes wide, my legs rigid, and sat on the felt-covered stool, running my fingers along the pearly gloss.
“Now, I know you don’t like people spending money on you—” Mike knelt beside me; I dragged my teary eyes away from my present to look at him. “So, I figured I’d buy this for you, and you can repay me by letting me stay in your house until I buy my own.”
“You know I’d do that anyway.”
“I know.” He nodded and smiled.
Emily sat beside me, waking me from whatever world I’d slipped into to cope with bewilderment. “I can’t believe this. I—”
“You like it?” Mike said, standing up.
“Like? I love.” I laughed a little.
“Well, test it out.” Emily grabbed my hand and placed it on the keys.
“I can’t.” I dropped my hand back into my lap. “I...I feel numb, like I want to cry and laugh and play every song I know—all at the same time.”
Mike and Emily looked at each other, poorly hiding the glittering joy in their eyes.
“God,” I said, touching the keys again. “You even knew exactly which one I wanted.”
Mike practically snorted out the hilarity. “Anyone who’s ever listened to you talk for an hour does, baby.”
Against the white keys, my long, pale fingers looked welcome and belonging. I pressed down lightly so they wouldn’t make any sound, but I could feel the solid, responding weight of them under my touch. It felt like coming home, like the hug you get off your dad at the end of a really bad day, or like the theme song to the sitcom your mum watches every weeknight.
Despite teaching piano, it had been a very long time since I actually played—for myself—for anyone. I wanted nothing more than to shed the proverbial chains of my music-less world and run the tracks, play the most powerful piece I could think of—one that used all my fingers and possibly my toes—but I had to do one thing first.
I launched off the stool, wrapping myself around Mike at full speed, sending him stumbling back a few steps until his hips smacked into the piano. His musky scent and the warmth of his chin against my brow, his gristly stubble pricking into my hairline, became my world for a tight squeeze. “I love you, Mike—thank you so much.”
He cupped a heavy hand to the back of my head and nodded, clearing his throat.
“Okay.” I stepped back, swiping my tears. “Now I’ll play for you.”
Snuggling up on the couch in the front lounge room, my eyes wandered to the lake; its beauty stealing attention from the book in hand. Wind blew soft ripples over the dark water, making the lake look deep—like the thoughts in my mind.
Every time I played the piano over the last few days, I tried so hard not to imagine David coming up behind me, whispering in my ear about silver planes and pyramids—tried not imagine him placing my silver locket around my neck and begging me not to return it, ever again. But, thinking about not thinking about him made me think about him. My chest sunk.
When is that stupid girl in me going to learn?
The book landed on the coffee table, luckily, since I wasn’t really aiming for it, as I jumped up.
The miles of self-reflection one can achieve by looking at a lonely lake will have to wait—I’ve got a deep burn in my fingers that needs to be released on the keys of my new piano.
After a while, the physical sting inspiration caused in my fingertips eased, and I played more thoughtfully. I felt so refreshed, like dipping my face in a pond of cool water on a hot day, and the burden of my aching soul, searing for the absence David, didn’t seem so severe.
“Good to see you writing songs again,” Mike noted as he sat beside me on the piano stool.
“How’d you know I was writing?”
“Uh—due to the constant note-tapping, then stopping.” He raised his brows a few times, the lines on his forehead forming three rippled indents.
“Oh, sorry. Am I bugging you?” I popped my pen behind my ear and shuffled the sheets of paper into a neat pile on the stand.
“Not one bit, baby. I actually just came to tell you I’m off to the station—gotta drop those papers in before I start next week.”
“I still can’t believe you’re swapping the beat for a desk.”
