chapter 28

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28

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28

"Why don't you play again?" Her father asked over their meal of fresh fish. "You used to love it. That piano is gathering dust." Taking a sip of his white wine, he looked at Clementine as she thought about it.

Clementine hasn't had a chance to think about such things in the throes of her own personal tragedies, but it was true. In her parents' quest to educate their one and only daughter, Clementine has picked up a lot of different, random skills that some were once hobbies.

"I did like it," Clementine responded, looking up at her parents, "but people change. Over time." She said, referring to more than the piano.

Her parents exchanged glances in their own 'language' and then looked away, as if ashamed momentarily of their daughter.

"Your father is right, actually. I'll get Ernesto to tune it. He's always been handy with these kinds of things. And then you can play, make use of your time grounded." Her mother looked out the window, as if she was seeing some other vision of her own and then snapped out of it, taking a sip of her white wine.

Clementine was sweating. This was one thing she had to still get used to all over again. When in the New York winters she was shivering most of the time, here in the Brazilian sun she was hot. She would have preferred a New York spring if it wasn't for her allergies... Which is why late summer and fall were her favourite, and most likely the best time in New York as well.

But she wasn't in New York. She was here.

After the meal, Clementine roamed the hallways of the large house. She realized that she was spending most of her time in the bedroom, and there was so much of the house to make good use of. She walked into a room full of book cases and ran her finger along the spines of the family collection.

She picked out some art books, and mindlessly flipped through them. Trying to feed her mind and stay off the boredom that was enveloping her. She couldn't even study, and it occurred to her that maybe going to school was a privilege. Maybe Columbia was onto something, trying to show it to students who didn't take it seriously...

But for all the beauty of the house, as Clementine wandered from room to room getting reacquainted with her childhood home, she couldn't help but feel trapped.

It felt more like all of a sudden she found herself at the bottom of a well, and quite frankly, she had little idea of how to make it our of it this time.

She found herself exhaling out loud, and tried to meditate in the open space living room, but found that she was failing to do that as well. She was quickly taken out of her meditation by the sound of piano keys, being tuned.

Clementine followed the sound into the piano room. Yes, her family had a full piano room.

"Ernesto?" Clementine called to him as he was working on the piano.

"Ah, if it isn't the miss of the house." He turned around to see her, and then back to the paint to continue the process. "How are all the things? Any clarity on the, eh, situation?"

Clementine blushed at the mention of their last encounter. There was a certain embarrassment attached to it, and she wondered why the matters of the heart were so closely tied to our own personal senses of honour and dignity. So easily wounded we all are at the slightest rejection of the heart. So easily attached we become at any hints of a welcome.

Clementine went to sit beside him, fingering the piano one key at a time, trying to orient herself in the sound of the notes. It was a little like learning to read a new language all over again, and she suddenly had the urge to play something. Anything, but she let him continue tuning.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" Clementine asked him, keeping her voice low.

"What kinda guy do you take me for miss?" Ernesto winked at her. Then after some time, nothing but the sound of individual notes filling in the space between them, he said to her "I just care about you, that's all."

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