Page 67 of Sebastian

It’s childish and immature, but I’m childish and immature. I’m running away from her, from the crushing responsibility, and from the prospect of being a sucky father. I sprint down the hall, up the stairs to the third floor, and into the old music room. The furniture is covered in protective sheets with layers of dust. The lights from the party below cast an eerie glow that dances amongst the shadows.

In the corner stands the grand piano my mamma insisted I learn to play for her extravagant parties. She was convinced Iwas a child prodigy until she discovered I wasn’t listening to my teacher or practicing enough to be anything above marginal.

Beneath the heavy cloth lie the glossy black surface and ornate details, another symbol of wasted potential and unmet expectations. My whole life has been a disappointment. Why would Veronica expect any different reaction than the one I gave her? As shitty as it is, why would I expect anything different from myself?

I plop down on the bench, the dust rising in the air beside me as I search for the hem of the cloth. Slowly lifting the edge of the fabric, the old piano greets me like the former nemesis it was. I shake my head at how simple things were way back then. I used to dive under the piano to avoid getting caught by the teacher forcing me to play.

If only I knew then what I know now, I would have happily sat my ass on this very bench and played. Maybe my life would have turned out differently. Perhaps my parents wouldn’t have ever been on that plane, flying back home. Fuck Italy for that. I’m never going back there.

I drape the canvas over the top, open the lid, and fiddle with the keys. It badly needs tuning, and I certainly need to practice, but I play my mamma’s old favorite. The one I learned especially for her fortieth birthday party.

As my fingers familiarize themselves with the keys, I extend my foot to the old pedals, stiff from being stored up here far too many years without the proper care.

The gentle melody ofClair De Lunewhispers to the room. The slow flow is interrupted by my mistakes and rusty fingers. My former teacher, the perfectionist in my head, forces me to start over each time until the music effortlessly moves through me. I am lost in the song until the final sad note hits, and I’m sobbing.

“That was lovely, Mr. Sebastian.”

Jiles emerges from the darkness, fondness in his voice despite the untuned piano and the rusty piano player. I don’t bother wiping my tears. Jiles has seen them before and will probably see them again.

“What ails you enough that you sought refuge in this room, of all places?”

It’s understandable why he’s asking. The day I buried them, I had this room closed off. The irony of me becoming a parent and being here for the first time since is not lost on me. Ghosts don’t stay gone forever. They come back to haunt the living every now and again.

“I’m going to be a papa.”

The first time I say these words aloud, my throat clogs.

Ever the perfect home manager and substitute parent, he remains expressionless as he steps further into the light cascading through the large windows.

“That is a bit of news.”

He doesn’t say whether the news is good or bad, and I’m so thankful I’ll give him a raise for that.

“I fucked up, Jiles. You know me, I can’t even take care of myself. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for you and Ms. Martha. Now a kid?”

My shoulders slump forward as I hunch over, fresh tears blurring my sight.

After a thoughtful pause, he replies to my emotional confession, “Mr. Sebastian, life indeed has its way of surprising us. In moments of doubt, it’s worth remembering that every challenge we face also brings growth and transformation opportunities. Becoming a parent is a profound responsibility but also a journey into the depths of love and self-discovery. While self-doubt may cloud your path, remember that you’re not alone, and those who care about you are here to support you. As we stand on the precipice of this new chapter, let’s consider whatit means to embrace the unknown and find strength in the face of uncertainty.”

As with everything that comes from Jiles, his response carries a more profound sense of meaning and importance—one that terrifies me even more. It’s another long few seconds as I contemplate what to do.

“Am I to assume it’s Miss Veronica? Her presence here tonight was unexpected.”

I nod, unwilling to meet his eyes in the event they express disappointment.

“She’s happy. I get it. I just don’t feel the same. I felt like I was having a heart attack, so I ran out of there. I didn’t want her to find me, so I came here. Ironic, huh?”

I sniff and look around the room I hated so much but now seek comfort.

“This time of the year is always challenging for those we have lost. It ebbs at our loneliness.”

He offers me the handkerchief from his pocket like I had done with Veronica. Something Jiles taught me from a young age, and all my friends made fun of me for it. Something I could teach my son.

Fuck.

“Ironic though? I would say no. Seeking solace in a place that once brought you peace and closeness with your parents during a difficult and confusing time for you, then yes.”

He adjusts his pocket after I wipe my eyes and cheeks with the cloth.

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