Page 73 of Cain
“Cain, come on, you’ve got to see this!” Mother called me from the other side of the mansion’s garden.
Without a second thought, I bolted to her as fast as I could. It was one of those warm spring days where the sun made everything look shiny and bright.
She was standing by the fire bushes at the corner of the garden, watching something.
“What is it?”
“Shh! Come closer,” she whispered, motioning to me with her hand.
Slowly, I paced closer and saw something flying next to the flowers.
It was small, like a bug, but cute, like a bird. I had never seen such a creature in my life. It was fascinating. How fast and strong its tiny wings flapped that you couldn’t even see them. It was as if it were floating in front of me. Its viridian feathers glistened under the sunlight, catching bits of green and gold.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, unable to tear my eyes off it.
“It’s a hummingbird.”
“Wow!”
“You know what they say about them?” Mother asked, looking at me.
“No, what?”
“Hummingbirds never forget love.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a metaphor. They can remember every flower they’ve visited, and they even recognize humans.”
“They are so smart!”
“Yes, they are.”
The hummingbird flew away from our garden in a split second.
“Bye, birdie!” I yelled, waving at it. “Mom, will I ever see it again?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” she said, stroking my head. “Maybe it’ll come back. But sometimes things only come back to us when we’re ready.”
“What do you mean?” I scrunched my face.
“You will understand when you’re older. For now, let’s just go inside and practice on the piano, shall we?” She smiled brightly.
“Yes! Let’s go.”
Music…
There’s so much more to music than just listening to it. People can feel it, dream with it, cry with it, laugh, and even reminisce. Music is a language that speaks to the soul, and it’s one of the many things my mother taught me. She was a talented piano player. Before she made the worst mistake of her life—marrying my father—she worked in piano bars.
She taught me to embrace the instrument. To feel the energy that surrounds it and to compose something more profound than mere music. She showed me how to bring life through my music. How to breathe life into my memories, my dreams, and every emotion that lived inside me.
Sitting on the piano bench and letting my fingers press the keys on their own is something pure and untainted that I’ve missed deeply.
The last time I did it was in front of Katerina a few days ago. She was the first in a long time to hear me play. The first I actually wanted to let listen and to share that part of me with.
My body isn’t so tense at the moment. The music swallows my whole existence and creates a peaceful bliss in my mind. My nostrils fill with the smell of fresh roses from the vase on the piano.
I can almost say I’m happy.
