The Song

Part Thirty

“Do you think…” Aston started. He didn’t finish though, he just shut his mouth and stared at me.

“What?”

“That you remembered something?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, “It just came out of my mouth. I’m not sure if I remembered it from before or if I re-learned it now.”

“But you might have remembered it,” he pointed out.

“Maybe.”

He gave me a faint but hopeful smile, turning back to the pasta cooking on the stove. I really didn’t want to say anything to get his hopes up because the truth was, I had no idea if what had just happened was a memory or not.

He put a plate in front of me and then wandered off, leaving me to eat alone. When I was done I cleaned up and then hauled my suitcase back up to the room with the iron-framed bed. I changed into some sweats and then laid back on the bed, trying to figure out if the whole address thing really was a memory or not.

My thoughts were so confused. I didn’t know if I’d gotten a memory back or not. I didn’t know anything. And I still was stuck on whether or not I was doing the right thing.

A tap on my door pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Jess?” Aston asked quietly, appearing at the door.

“Yeah?” I asked, leaning up from my position lying on the bed.

“Could you maybe do me a favor?”

“Sure, what?”

“You gave me this after our first year together,” he said, pulling a book from behind his back, “Do you mind playing it so I can record it? As a memory…”

“What is it?” I asked, hopping off the bed and taking the book from him. I flicked through the pages, music filling my ears as I stared at it.

“Just something you wrote me.”

“Why didn’t you show this to me sooner?” I asked, “I’ve played through everything else I’ve written!”

“I don’t know,” Aston shrugged, leading the way down to the piano room, “I thought you had a copy in your stuff I guess.”

“No, this is different.”

“You must have it committed to memory then, because you play it a lot. It’s part of your masterpiece, as you call it.”

“Masterpiece? Julia mentioned that to me when I was in hospital. She said I hadn’t written any of it down.”

“It’s meant to be five parts,” Aston said, “This is part two. I think you’ve composed three and four and are part way through the last. I’m not sure what’s written down or not, you keep so many papers everywhere and I can’t really read what’s on them.”

“Hmm… let’s go have a play through then,” I said, wandering down to the piano.

I sat down on the bench and played through a few bits, trying to trigger any sort of memory. But nothing came.

“Can you play it?” Aston asked.

“Sure,” I said, “What do you want to record it on?”

“Hang on, I’ll get my laptop.”

I sat and waited for him for a minute, flicking through the pages of the songbook again. The song was very upbeat and happy, but still kind of slow. It was lovely.

Aston set up his laptop and I played through the song, allowing him to record it. As I finished up I dropped my hands into my lap, staring at the keys of the piano.