One day in Brooklyn

Chapter 8

I must have drifted off because pretty soon I am dreaming. I look down at what I am wearing and there is only a white button down shirt and some khaki pants, no shoes. My shaggy black hair hangs in my eyes and blocks some of my vision. This is kind of weird because I always have it greased back. Which as Adrian says brings out my Italian roots.

I start looking around wondering where I am when Adrian shows up beside me. Her eyes are worried. Which troubles me, I hate to see anything but joy in those young eyes. She starts to speak and it sounds urgent. Then before she is able to get her words out I am whisked away to the Hell hole of a hospital.

I lay in lonesome silence. I wonder what that dream meant. I find myself guessing what Adrian was worried about. Then I push it out of my mind or as far as it will go. I lay for what seems like hours thinking up so many possible outcomes and roads my life could take.

I close my eyes for a moment for even though I have just slept I am tired. Part of the side effects, soft lips touch my forehead quickly and gently just as if a butterfly landed on my skin.

"I love you." says a soft feminine voice that only could belong to Adrian.

"I love you too sister." I respond opening my eyes and scaring her half to death.

"God Vito you sure you are sick? You are acting like yourself." she says with her small smile.

"Come here." I say holding my arms out to hug her. Another thing I love, hugs. She comes into my arms and squeezes me back.

"Vito your hugs are the best!" she says getting back up right.

"Oh I know." I say rolling my eyes.

"Guess what I have!" She says with a look of mischievous excitement.

"What?" I ask and without warning she reaches under the bed and pulls out none other but my Cello case.

"Who is the best little sister?" she asks

"You, of course." I say like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh I know." She says in a mock tone of me flipping her gold curls over her shoulder over exaggerating the move.

"Let’s see." I say trailing off and propping myself up so I am on the side of my bed sitting up. The bed is short enough so that my Cello reaches the ground just enough. My hands start getting that glittery feeling of excitement before I start playing.

Adrian looks at me her eyes begging, she loves to listen to my playing. I always love performing for her because her eyes fill with amazement and she actually has some more of a knowledge in music and doesn’t talk about music by saying things like “Good.” She actually critiques it. I start by guiding my bow through all positions. Gorgeous, it seems to have been jostled with because it is out of tune. I know my Cello so well that I am able to tune it in less than five minutes. I think back in my memory trying to recover what that sheet of music looked like in Mr. Sanchez's office. I have this photographic memory so usually I play with my eyes closed remembering what the music looked like. I start into the song replicating it perfectly as I go. I am guiding my bow strongly through the notes. Keeping the temp correct and making sure all is right. During the middle of the song when it is becoming at the height of excitement I shift into the second position instead of first. The song is scratched. Just like a mirror, it will never be the same once the first scratch is made so why keep it? I shatter it, running through a random amount of notes until I feel the need to stop. My Cello sounds like some helpless dying animal rather than the strong sorrowful sound that is pleasing to the ears. Adrian winces at the last collage of notes.

The radiation has been getting to my head and making me angry lately. Now of course ends up a time for a spurt of anger which annoys I but I have no control over it. I know not to hurt my cello though. I take care to sit on the bed beside me when I yell a string of obscenities with a rough edge causing Adrian to look at me with a face of surprise.