Sonata

I - II

I used to play for everyone, that habit as come to be the only reason I was wished for at family parties or at community gatherings, on that very moment where they would listen what since young I was taught, where I could for once be seen. Despite all, I loved to play the piano but since my sister's death, music has been nothing but a burden as now I am the one left to meet every expectation of this family of ours. Oh as I wish to have given you my last assonance sister but as you know already, we are hand built by her, as if we were sketched at birth and put together piece by piece. From the way we talk, to the way we dress, the way we smile and a tone of a laugh. The way we say our names, the way we rest our eyes, if it wasn't good enough then it wasn't even close to good and barely enough. Whose mother believes a child deserves such pressure for perfection as they are yet to be born?  Ours did. Mother and father are the faces of this town, this house and mostly our nightmares. They were barely to be seen, even I barely recognize their traces and yet they chase me in my dreams, face as blurred as it can be, they consume me more each time as if I am only theirs to take when something is missing. We would wake up in the morning by the maids. No words were meant to be said, not even to my own sister as we were often caught trading looks pledging each other for help, only to end up in detention, but you see,  now as I sit in wonder, detention was in fact the most peaceful time of our days.  Where no one would talk to us, look at us, expect from or expect us. We would sit across each other in the room, chair turned towards the wall and we would remain in silence. Such thing only lasted until they built a new room for me, tinier, further away. This  would delay our day in ways we thought we could be forgiven but never were. Every hour we had lost in detention would be an extra hour towards the day and some days were almost never ending, or so they felt like, but what perception could I have of time as the child I once was?  We began to grow and shape as life shifts, It all became so...

 - You. -  Mother paces into the library making an entrance her posture straight as her beliefs., hands resting on top of her belly and eyes cold as the winter to come in a week's time. I shove my thoughts away and place my book on the table. My hands now rest on my lap as I turn to face the outside from the window. Mother hates when I look at her. You are only given such privilege when you accomplish what she believes to be perfection or one step away of it, lower than that, only my father has seen the traces of her anguish. - Make preparations. Cover your bruises. You are to be married. Be grateful of me. - Her steps become further away, as the door closed my hand covers the bruises on my neck, yesterday was a risk but I know you couldn't expect less of me, sister, but at the end of the day this is what she believes to be a gift, a handful of hatred, the obsession's of controlling one's life for as much as she pleases. My thumb makes presence at my bottom lip, I gasp for air between the cuts on my mouth. The anxiety this woman seeded in me has gone beyond understandable, am I  scared? My life is a step away from completely slip away of me and I have no say in such. Eleanor, who is close to me in age, working as my personal maid for years to count, paces to lock the door and reaches for me. Her hands pushes my head to rest on her chest. 

- Close your eyes. - Her voice reminds me every bit of Gabriela. She whispers and I do as she says, always, religiously. The sweetest tone, capable of bringing hurt in hand with disgrace and still find a way of it working on her favor. - Can you hear? The heartbeat. My heart speaks to you. Focus. - She caresses my head like a child sorrowing over a fallen shattered glass of water. If only I had the permission to tell her that her touch is the one I consider the most a home. In a silent minute as I calm down, a sigh of relief escapes, my arms embrace around her and a gentle pull allows Eleanor resting on my lap, without moving my head away from her chest, I rest maintaining my eyes closed.  Eleanor's finger find it's way through the strings of my hair and I weaken, through her eyes I am seen, as if I am the strings of a broken piano for her and only her to play, over and over again.  I lift my head to face her but a loud noise takes instance and the scare pulled us apart. I could feel mother presence crossing by my spine but her presence is not made. Eleanor composes herself. - I have missed your comfort. You have become so distant, my arms keep awaiting for you. - I state quietly. - You have no need for such trivialities with me, your heart is what I mean to understand. - She denies to face me and I pace towards her. - We have known each other since child. Why do you hide your expressions from me? - My hand falls in contact with her chin and I pull to our eyes meeting but she immediately looks away. That was much of an answer I would take from her today. I turn my back walking towards the shelf but facing her through my upper shoulder. - I respect your position. - I take a book into my hands. - We are not so different after all. 

She had born and lived in this house for almost as long as I too did. We are not so different in being bounded to a life that was not ours to choose and definitely not ours to decide on. I open the book, removing a slim clip from my hair so I could mark the last page I was reading and I place the book on the shelf again unaligned with the others so it was easier to distinguish it. I turn to Eleanor who does not reciprocate me still - Behind everyone's sight, give this one a read too, I'm sure it will please you. - I walk towards the exit as I pace outside and close the door, Eleanor rushes towards the shelf and I silently watch. With a sadden expression and in a moment of uncertainty of wanting to read but being unable to, she pushes the book back into place and walks once more towards her position.