Page 121 of We Are Yours

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I remembered the sadness she caused.

The despair.

The loneliness.

I remember it all.

They said time healed all wounds. At that moment, playing with Kraven—with our mother and Isla watching, listening, and cheering—it was a symphony of past, present, and future. A broken record of memories, creating a crescendo that blurred time into one aching note, which evolved into a composition of what was, what may never be, and everything unfinished.

Everything unsaid.

Everything that mattered was all the chorus.

It was only a matter of time until the melody we were playing turned into be back in ten, then seven years of silence...

And still, we performed it so perfectly, our memories bleeding into every last note.

Kraven

I played the piano for her.

Isla.

I played it for the guests.

For myself.

For my demons.

For the little boy abandoned by his mother.

For the seven years I could never get to shut up, regardless of how much trouble I got into.

For the version of me I see when I’m with Kitty.

For the memories.

The trauma.

The tears.

The fights.

For the music that completed me.

The notes that consumed me.

For the nights when all I had was my piano.

When I tasted tears.

Fear.

Unhappiness.

I played for all of that and more.

Last, I played for her.

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