Page 1 of Sound
Sound
Prologue
“Where are you going Melody?” Leaning against the doorframe, my mother watches me move around the room, no inflection in her tone when she speaks. Her hair is dull, hanging limply over her bony shoulders, adding to the washed away look of her wrinkled, faded clothing. That dress has seen much better days, but she won’t take it off for anything. “I told you its better if you don’t play that cursed instrument, didn’t I? Isn’t that why you stopped?”
“It’s just one audition, Mom. I told you Vi and Harmony want to try, so I’ll just keep them company this one time.” Gently pulling out my violin from the case, I check it over. The moment I realize it isn’t broken, my knees buckle. I didn’t know how worried I was until just now that I broke it.
Last night, two jerks had grabbed my arm and tried forcing me to dance with them. Waiting patiently for Vi to talk to her sister—the bartender in the club—I breathed through my mouth so I didn’t puke from all the harsh perfumes and sweat. I knew the guys were drunk and I had no idea what possessed me, but when I told one of them I didn’t dance, he called me a bitch. It set me off and before I knew what is happening, he was on the ground unconscious while the bones in my arms vibrated from the strength used to whack him with my violin case. His buddy suffered the same fate, too.
And then he came.
The blue-eyed guy that made me toss and turn all night, stealing my sleep.
I can still hear his deep voice like he is talking inside my head. Like every hot-blooded woman, I’ve seen my fair share of good-looking guys. The ones that you need to do a double take on to make sure what you see is right, and not a trick your mind is playing on you. This one is in a league all on his own, though. There is something about him apart from being so pretty, but I’m not sure I can put my finger on it.
Last night, I stared at him, blinking stupidly for a few moments before I could find my voice to speak. It wasn’t that, however, that made him different. It was a feeling that ran deep inside like I knew him, or at least should know him.
Thinking about it today, it’s stupid and wrong on so many levels.
“Are you listening?” my mother drones on, clearing the image of the hot guy from my head.
“Yes, and I’m going to play today regardless of what I think or what you say. It’ll be just one song anyway.” Placing the violin back in the case, I close it by snapping the locks shut. Glancing out the window I see a car pulling up in front of the house. “Ah, there is Vi.”
The blaring coming out from the car sounds like a football horn while Viola keeps hitting the heels of her palm on it, just like she always does. Seeing her lowering the passenger window lights a fire under my ass to get out of here. Grabbing my instrument, I whirl out of the room, kissing my mom on the cheek on my way out. Her deep sigh, very telling that the level of her depression has hit rock bottom, is like a knife in my chest. I want to do something, say something that will make her feel better, but since the day my father left, nothing ever seems to cheer her up.
She blames me for it.
I was young but I remember the nights hearing him yell at her or call her names. He wasn’t physically abusive, but words sometimes hurt more than a slap on the face. When he packed up and left that day, I blamed myself because every time I heard him do that I covered my head with a blanket whispering, “Go away and leave us alone.” My voice sounding strange to my ears. Guilt ate me alive while growing up but eventually I got over it.
Until one day while upset my mother threw it in my face. She screamed at me, blaming my cursed tongue for sending him away and forcing her to take care of me by herself. She still blames me now, even when she doesn’t say the words. I stopped talking much to her in general.
Maybe she is right and I did send him packing. If my music can kill people, why can’t my voice chase them away from me?
Backtracking, I shake off the gloomy thoughts and give my mother a one-arm hug, kissing her sunken cheek firmly with a smack. I giggle when she tries to get away. “Love you mom. I’ll be back before you know it.”
Releasing her, a shiver like I just walked over a fresh grave slithers up my spine when I hear my mom say, ‘No you won’t.” But that’s insane. Why on earth would she say something morbid like that? I blame my lack of sleep and my raging hormones—which are still going nuts from the blue-eyed guy—for making me little nuts.
“About time,” Vi yells through her open window when I jump over the few steps at the front door. “You are like a geriatric patient, shuffling instead of walking. Chop chop, sweet ass, we don’t want to be late.”
“Stop yelling like a crazy person; the entire neighborhood can hear you.”
Climbing in the back seat, I hug my violin case while leaning over to see my mom standing at the threshold staring at us will those dull eyes. The woman must have a couple of wires crossed talking about random powers, magic, and other stuff I can only shake my head at. Forcing a bright smile, I wave enthusiastically at her, but she doesn’t move.
“Your mom okay?” Murmuring, Vi locks gazes with me through the rearview mirror.
“Unless I’m going nuts, I think I heard her tell me‘no you won’t’when I said I’ll be back before you know it.”
“It’s the depression talking.” With a sad smile, Vi peels off the sidewalk heading for Harmony’s house. “That’s why I can’t wait for the three of us to get a house together. It’ll remove all the crazy from our lives.”
“Yeah.” Sighing, I melt into the back seat and lean my head against it, closing my eyes.
“You dreamed about the hottie from the club didn’t you.” She kept calling him hottie on our way home from the club, too.
“I was sleeping like the dead. No hotties in my dreams.” Lying to your friends is not the best course of action, but I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise. Not that omitting the truth will work on Viola. The woman is like a bloodhound.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Vi sing songs, confirming my thoughts “Your face is bright red. You did dream of him you hoe!”
“Hey! No name calling.” I stick my tongue out at her. “And no slut shaming, either.” we both burst into laughter.
