The Pianist

Chapter Five

Molly just stood there. She was lost for words, watching the pianist cry. There was nothing she could do except watch in horror as the black tears ran down his face. Molly bit the corner of her lip and then raised her head and met his eyes. They were milky black now, the tears mixing in with the white around his irises. He looked horrible, putting that lightly.

As the light hit him through the glass wall behind her, she noticed how translucent his skin was. She could see the outlines of bone and muscle beneath a paper-thin barrier of white, tight skin and a fine smoke rose from his exposed skin. This struck Molly, and she could only stare in awe and slight horror. Gerard noticed this. He looked down at his hands and saw smoking skeletons. He growled with anger and frustration as the tears of black began to subside, and he ducked in front of the bookshelf he had been leaning against, out of the sunlight. He then lowered his head, his black mess of hair falling forward limply.

Her heart beating grew rapid as she watched him with his head bowed. Considering this was her first experience with a friend or EVEN somebody who wasn't paid to enjoy her presence, Molly had no idea what to do. She opened and closed her mouth many times like a fish, each time with something more to say, but deciding that was the wrong approach. Maybe, she thought, he didn't even want her to say anything.

Molly decided this was the best decision. He needed his time alone, just like any person, but, again, this didn't really make any sense to Molly. He had spent his whole life, as far as Molly had known, alone in this house. She glanced around at the massive amount of books upon shelves around her and forming aisles to the golden elevator and the giant grand piano standing front and center on a lowered level of the floor, the golden light cascading across it. There was no other trace that another person had ever even been here. There was no signs of maids or butlers, scurrying and dusting. There was no signs of an uninterested, greedy father or an overbearing nanny.

The pianist lived truly alone, a reclusive spider, spinning a web that nobody would admire. It occurred to Molly how alike they were. He was completely alone in this large home.

Just like she was in her own home.

No. Something was clear to Molly. He did not want to be alone. This was a cry for help. A desperate cry for a friend. She needed him, and he needed her.

He had invited her here because he wanted her to be his friend.

Molly took a step towards him. The first step, yet, arguably the most important in her life. Molly was nervous, yes, but she knew she had to do this. Then, she took another step, her shoes tapping on the floor. Then, another and another until she was before him. 

The pianist, Gerard, kept his head low, but Molly knew that he was aware she was standing here. She wasn't sure what to do so she raised her shaking pale hand and placed it on his shoulder. This caused Gerard to raise his head, almost immediately, so shocked by her touch, like he wasn't used to human affection. His black eyes met her's. For the first time Molly can remember, she did not look at his scars.

 "Pianist," Molly began, her voice so soft and calm, like the singing of a bird, "Why do you weep?"

Gerard stared at her for a moment, his milky black eyes trailing down her arm up her shoulder and to her eyes. He didn't shrug away from her touch, but he seemed to be rigid, like he wasn't sure of what to do. The pianist shook his greasy head, whimpering a soft cry for barely a moment. Molly wanted him to speak. She wanted to hear his soft voice explaining his sadness. Maybe if he told her, she could do something.

"Pianist," Molly asked again, her voice just as soft as before. It reminded her of when she was very young, and she would throw temper tantrums on the floor of her bedroom from the frustration of being ignored. Her nanny would crouch over her, wipe her angry tears away and ask Molly to explain what she was feeling. "Why do you weep?"