Page 23 of Unleash You

When the first note inundated the room, my chest tightened. I held my breath every time the tempo quickened, and her body moved along with it. Whatever nerves she had when she walked in dissolved when she let the music take over. Her intense gaze met mine, and something twisted inside my chest. She hit the last key stroke and quickly switched to the next piece, which had a faster and more erotic tone.

The music flowed incessantly. I found myself out of breath and completely taken by Anabelle. Zack had been right. I was in love with her. No idea how it happened or why, but in this moment, I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t have these feelings for her.

I shuffled forward and braced my hip on the sidearm of the piano. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t miss a beat, keeping pace with the sexy tenor of the melody. Suddenly, Anabelle and I were the only ones in the small space.

Dear Charlie,

I woke up sad this morning and didn’t know why until I flipped opened my agenda. Today was the anniversary of their death. I’m sure you knew that. When does it stop hurting? It’s been eight years. I wandered the campus for a while until I ended up in the music hall. I didn’t think I would remember how to play, but as soon as I sat down on the piano bench, it all came rushing back along with the memories. Mom playing for us at Christmas, or just for Dad when they thought we were sleeping. I miss her.

Anyway, I decided to take up piano again. Maybe I’ll play for you one day soon. How about you? How’s superhero training going? How are your thumbs?

I miss you brother, always.

Anabelle

A few months later, I received a flash drive with her music on it. Mostly, it was a compilation of classics, but she also added a few compositions of her own, one of them titled “Wesley’s Requiem.” It was a rather dark tune that eventually grew on me. In so many ways, she’d asked Charlie about me, but I always ignored it because I was afraid, she’d found me out. I should have known a lie like that couldn’t live forever.

She finished playing, her eyes filled with tears. No doubt the memory of her mom flooded her mind, the good times and the one horrific incident. I stepped toward her. I was done with all this pretense. She needed comforting, and I wanted to be there for her, as she had been for me when everything around me was filled with darkness. Zack gripped my arm and pulled me toward him.

“Not the place, brother. Don’t start something you won’t be able to finish.”

I nodded. He was right. Our conversation needed to happen in private. After the cheering died down, Anabelle excused herself and walked out. I waited a few beats, then went after her.

From the top level, beyond the terrace, Anabelle’s form darted through the garden and into the woods. She was going home. I bolted down the stone steps with the shimmering lights of Fox’s Bank in my line of sight. I didn’t slow down until I reached the creek on the other side of the picket fence between our houses. The mural she’d painted on the wooden slats made me stop. There were several vignettes of us playing baseball or climbing trees.

I trudged across the lawn to the kitchen door and ran into Tullie. “She’s in the living room.”

As soon as she said it, music fused through the walls. I thought I recognized the melody. “Thank you.”

I was in a hurry before, but now that I was in Anabelle’s house, and I had her all to myself, I wanted to savor the moment and make these last minutes go on a little longer. After our talk, she might not want to see me again. I paced the long corridor surrounded by her scent and her all-consuming, angry piano notes. When would she understand that she couldn’t fix this? The accident wasn’t her fault. Charlie was wrong. Would she believe me if I told her?

After several minutes, I wandered back into the great hall, where Anabelle played near the tall arch window with the woods between our houses as the backdrop. The night sky glimmered with twinkling sparks, like the highlights in her hair. She seemed so small and alone in the vast space. I leaned my shoulder on the threshold, mesmerized by her. She’d undone her braids and let her tresses fall to her shoulders in wild waves. My hands itched to touch them. I stood there until she finished, until she let out all the sadness out. Her body jerked when she spotted me by the entrance. Pursing her lips, she slammed the fallboard down.

“Not now, Wesley.”

“Don’t push me away. Not tonight.”

“Please leave.”

With a steady plod and hands up in a form of surrender, I closed the space between us. “I’m sorry about your mom.” In all these years, I didn’t think I had uttered those words to her. When her parents died, everyone assumed she had Charlie to look after her, to be there for her. No one realized how alone she was, how Charlie had buried her along with his parents because he blamed her for everything, because he was hurting too much. “It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to keep our loved ones in our hearts long after they’ve gone.”

Dear Anabelle,

Time doesn’t heal all wounds. That’s a load of crap. Sometimes we’re meant to carry those memories with us. I don’t know the reason, but I do know that eventually you’ll learn to live with the pain. Remember them always. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to keep our loved ones in our hearts long after they’ve gone. I’m glad you’re playing again. I would love to hear your music one day.

Love,

C

P.s. My training is complete. Thumbs are strong. Why do you ask? Got a job for me? ;-)

Her gaze zeroed in on me. “What did you just say?”

I glanced down at my hands, heart pounding.Don’t be a coward.And then it occurred to me that Charlie and I were two completely different people. How did Anabelle believe my lie for so long? Why? She needed those letters as much as I did. I needed her to know it was me.

“I know that playing the piano reminds you of your mom. That the emotions are always a mesh of happy and sad. I know that you keep graphite pencils and paper pads under your bed. And that when you can’t sleep, you draw to chase the nightmares away.”

She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. The tears had stopped, and now she glared at me, flush cheeks and mouth pursed into a rosebud. “How do you know that?”

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