paper rings (l.h.)

11

"You're sure your Mother won't be bothered by my playing?" He turns over his shoulder to watch as I sit on the rocking chair beside him. His blue eyes looking worriedly in mine, and I couldn't help but find over how beautiful he looked with a hint of the afternoon sunshine in his eyes. "I don't want to be a bother."

"She'll be too busy watching her Netflix to even hear you," I bring a cup of tea to my lips, Luke's steaming cup sat on the top of the piano. He had asked for honey, nothing else. "Please play, if you'd like."

He nods slowly, beginning to play yet another song I've never heard before. I was enchanted by his talents, and although I didn't ask him to sing these songs I was enchanted by his voice more than anything. He was so soft spoken and gentle with his words, I'd never have believed he had a talent like that. "You really enjoy the piano," he says after a second.

"I do," I nod slowly, watching how his fingers moved across the keys. I didn't want to admit that I was truly beginning to fall for him. I hadn't felt that way towards anyone in so long. I was surprised I still had any butterflies left after the last boy came and nearly wiped them all out. "I always have."

"Do you play?" He turns to me, scooting over once again to allow me a space beside him, the same way we sat just a second ago.

"No," I shake my head. "I've never played before."

"I'll teach you, Mary."

I do as he says, sitting directly beside him on the bench as the two of us face the keys. He laughs, and he takes my hand in his, aligning each finger with each new key, or trying to. I catch him laughing when I whisper "my fingers don't work like that" into his ear as he tries his best to help me.

It was a real laugh, from his gut as he dropped his head to hide his smile. I watch as his hand releases mine to hold his face, something like a giggle escaping from his lips. It was a nervous laugh, but I couldn't help but smile, too, when he raised his head back up to meet mine.

"Good luck," I shake my head as he tries his best to position me, my black-painted nails on my tattoo-covered arm tries it's best to align itself up with the pianist's hand beside her. "I have tried and tried."

"Doesn't mean it's impossible," he places his hands a few keys down from mine. "I'll show you. See, this key? This is C," he looks down at my hand. "C is important. Remember C."

"C," I repeat back to him, my other hand grabbing the loose hem of the army green shorts I had changed into, and the black band shirt that happened to be the last clean piece of laundry I owned. I wrap the string around my left index finger, pushing the key down as I slowly repeat "...c..."

He teaches me the notes, and I listen to his every word as if it was scripture. He places his hand on the keys, showing me what keys to press and when to press them, I watched as his smile grew as soon as he realized that I was able to keep up with him after he taught me my first song: Mary Had A Little Lamb.

"You did it!" He says proudly, watching how I lower my hand from the piano. "How did it feel?"

"It felt good," I look over my shoulder at him, watching his smile turn into one of admiration when his eyes met mine. "Thank you for teaching me."

"Thank you for letting me," he says slowly. "I love the piano. I could play it all day. I used to play it all day," he slows down, realizing that the dust and cobwebs that used to cover it were gone. His smile never faded.

"Why'd you stop, then," I pry, slowly rocking the chair back and forth, a gentle creak interrupting the lack of music. "If you loved it so much?"

"Got too busy," he looks over at me. I watch as his eyebrows raise, his curiosity finally winning over his need for anonymity. He had paused like this only a couple times before, I didn't think much about it until now. My heart skipped a beat when I realized he was actually going through with it this time. "Mary, you really don't know?"