Learn To Love Again

CHAPTER 3 (Mia Hart)

Ugh! Could this day get any worse? I woke up late with a jetlag, got the wrong directions from an elderly local and embarrassed myself in front a hot model. We even ended up in an embrace! How clumsy can I get? Well, it’s not like I’m gonna see him again, so why worry?

The bus I rode was a double-decker. Staying on the lower level is the best choice in this cold weather. While the bus was waiting for more passengers, laughter broke out in the vehicle. A girl sitting on the row opposite to mine was being tickled by her father. Something inside me tingled. We used to do that. Shaking the nostalgic thoughts out of my head, I brought out my iTouch, plugged in the earphones and played shuffle.

An unfamiliar voice started singing in my ears. I looked at the screen:  Lawson – Standing in the Dark. Lawson? I don’t remember putting any Lawson on my playlist. Chloe must be the culprit. One time she borrowed my iTouch, the next thing I knew, it was infested with One Direction songs. So this is what she’s gushing about lately. This song is pretty catchy.

It’s already past 10 when I arrived at the café. The only costumer was sitting on the far corner. The woman was drinking tea. She shot her head up the moment she felt my presence.

“Are you Mrs. Harrison?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she stood and offered a hand. “And you must be Ms. Hart?” I was surprised to hear her speak in an American accent.

“Yes.” I took her hand and shook it. “I’m really sorry for making you wait.”

We sat and she called for the waiter.

“No, its fine,” she said. “I like having long tea breaks anyway.”

The waiter arrived and asked for my order.

“Belgian waffle and a cup of black coffee please.” I said.

As the waiter took his leave, I noticed that Mrs. Harrison’s eyes were on me. Being stared at made me more nervous than I already was. I reached out my hand to the silverware in front of me and started spacing each evenly. How do I start the conversation? What should I say?

I came here to London to look for my mother. A year ago, I found out that I was adopted. That Dad and Jack aren’t really my family. Dad was on his deathbed when told me I’m not his daughter. He told me I was given to him by a friend when he was still in London. That is all I know; he wasn’t able to tell me why my real mother gave me away.

I contacted everyone on Dad’s address book to look for my real parents, but none of them were. The only closest lead was Mrs. Harrison. She told me on the phone that she went to the same college as Dad and my birth mother. After a month of contemplating, I decided I want to know and meet them.  And meeting with Mrs. Harrison is a step closer to finding out where they are.

“You look just like her.” Mrs. Harrison said with a smile on her face.

“Excuse me?” I asked, not understanding her out of the blue comment.

“This meeting is about your mother, is it not?” she asked.

“Oh. Um, yes.” I managed to answer.

“You don’t only resemble her, but you also inherited her absent-mindedness.” she laughed. “We were the closest of friends, Natalie and I.”

“So her name is Natalie.”

“Yes, Natalie Jane Moore.”

“What was she like?”

“Well, Natalie was a very kind person, the greatest friend a person could ask for. She was always there when I needed her and she saw the best in me when other people judged me. When we were in high school, she was a total nerd. She’d always carry a book with her.” she said with her eyes filled with nostalgia. “When we entered college, Natalie started socializing. Not only that, her beauty also blossomed. Men would kneel before her, even Martin.

The waiter came back with my order.

“Martin? You mean my Dad?” I asked before filling my mouth with a slice of waffle. Mrs. Harrison nodded.

“Martin was a very private person, even though he didn’t show it, I knew he loved Natalie. A woman’s instinct is never wrong.” she sipped her tea.

“Since you are familiar with Dad and my mother, I suppose you also know who my birth father is?” I asked after a bite.

“I’m sorry darling, but I don’t.” she sighed. “I was surprised when I found out that Natalie was dating this mysterious guy after we graduated college. And the next time we saw each other, she already had a bump. She said that the guy left her and wouldn’t want to talk about him after that.”

“So, you really have no clue who he is?” I asked.

“No. But another colleague of mine saw Natalie on the streets before their breakup, walking with a man with a guitar.” she said. “He must be a musician.”

So I only have a mother to chase after.

“Do you know where she is now?” I asked. “Do you still keep in touch with my mother?”

Growing up in a vineyard, I learned the process in wine-making and, although young for my age, my Dad himself declared me a virtuoso. I twirled the wine glass in hand, inhaled the wine’s scent and touched the edge of the glass with my lips. I sipped the wine slowly, tasting it first. This one’s about fifty years old; must be brewed somewhere in Italy. I didn’t expect to stumble upon good wine here in the jazz bar just across Susie’s apartment.

The last part of my meeting with Mrs. Harrison kept replaying inside my head like a broken phonograph. After that, I seemed to lose track of everything around me. I don’t even remember how I managed to go back this neighborhood.

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Flashback:

Mrs. Harrison focused on the table and wouldn’t look at me in the eye. I waited for her answer. Five minutes passed and she still wouldn’t talk.

“Um, Mrs. Ha—“

“She’s dead.” she finally spoke.

For some unknown reason, my mind couldn’t decipher what she just said. “Pardon me?”

“She’s dead.” she repeated. “She was diagnosed with a brain tumor ten years ago and died the year after.”

I dropped my utensils on the table. I examined her facial expression and waited for her to take back her words and tell me she was just kidding. But the sadness and longing on her face told me otherwise. This can’t be. Mrs. Harrison noticed my stupefied reaction, and started to ramble how sorry she was for my loss. I couldn’t make out the words she was saying, my moist eyes focused on nothing, I couldn’t feel the cold London air, and my brain stopped processing. The next thing I know, I’m standing in front of David’s Jazz Bar.

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No, this wine isn’t enough. I wouldn’t get drunk with just wine, I have had it since I was eleven. I went to this bar get wasted, to forget, to mourn over my unfamiliar mother’s death.

“Excuse me,” I asked the bartender. “Two bottles of Blue Moon please.” I never really drink beer; I hated it since the time Chloe made me take a sip. But if this is the only thing to get me wasted, why bother what it tastes like?

I eyed the baby grand on the stage. My fingers tingled at the thought of feeling its black and white keys once again. Playing the piano was one of the greatest things I learnt from Dad. We spoke the same language, we understood each other through music and we need not words to express how we felt. But after learning that I had lived a lie and Dad's passing, I screwed up. I threw away the Berklee College scholarship and never played again. I just couldn’t bring myself to play anymore.