A song of books and music

A song of books and music - english

      I came back from school, feeling depressed and lonely. As always I must say, I never came back from school feeling good and happy. I went to my bedroom as quiet and fast as I could, since my mom was in the kitchen and I had to avoid her. Finally I was here, sitting in my bed, with a big dilemma. What should I do? My homework or play guitar? I knew my mom would have killed me if she heard me playing guitar, since she knew I absolutely didn't have time to finish my homework. But it's not like it was interesting me. I mean, I'm not very much of a science lover. I hated math, didn't really like biology and above all, I abhorred chemistry. So yeah, it was not the favorite year of my life.

      My guitar was yelling my name, begging me to take her and play with her. I couldn't stand the pain in her voice anymore, so I cracked and took her. When I began to play, it was like all my problems went away. I was actually feeling good and happy with my guitar. It was the only thing I considered my friend, since I don't have any human friends. It was the only thing which understood me, the only thing I actually considered to be human being around me. To me, the people who are floating around me were not interesting. They couldn't enter my world, they couldn't understand me. But I must admit, it was not like I was helping them come to me. I was feeling good like that, without anyone to annoy me or care about how I feel. Even my parents were far from understanding me.

      They were forcing me to do things I didn't want to do. For example, when I had to choose what I wanted to study, what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, until my death, they forced me to do science. But it wasn't like I was a "sciencelover", I mean, I always wanted to do my studies in music. The only science I would need to know was how to create my own music and, most of all, how to find friends to play with, since it's pretty impossible to play alone, it's kind of useless if you only play for yourself. But I wasn't the kind of boy who talked to everyone, who made friends with people I met one day only.

     "Dante, did you finish all your homework?"

My mom was here, standing in front of me, but of course I didn't hear her coming because I was totally absorbed in the way I was playing and my thoughts brought me somewhere far away from my bedroom. When I saw the way she glared at me, I knew I was in big trouble.

     "You know I didn't. Are we going to have the same talk as yesterday, and the days before?"

     "Dante, stop talking to me as if you were right, since you know you're not.One day, I'm going to take your guitar away and throw it in the trash can, so you'll be forced to focus on you homework and your scholarship. No, better, I'll do it tomorrow if you keep going on like that. I only give you one more chance honey, take it."

     And then she left, leaving me alone as always. My heart began to crack and went finally broken. I could feel tears running down my face. I put my guitar aside and sit in my bed to do my homework. It has been so hard that when I lastly laid down my head on my pillow, it was already more than one o'clock. Which only left me six hours or so to sleep. Which, obviously, was not enough. And this state of things last at least a month before I could finally handle it. Before I could find another anchor than my guitar, which by the way pasted the last month watching me from the corner of my room, still begging me to come over her.

      Since I couldn't play guitar in my house anymore, I started to go to the music room in my school. There were two guitars, and no one ever came here because either students were playing in their bedroom, or not at all. So I was the only one squatting this room during this awful month of this awful year, of this awful life.

     One day, while I was playing one of my favorite song, I suddenly heard the door opening. I was really surprised since this room used to be abandoned. I looked at the person who opened the door, and then I saw her. I was feeling angry that someone dared disturb my moment alone with a guitar. And then I saw she seemed as surprised and upset as me.

     "What are you doing here?" she asked me, as if I were the intruder in this scene.

     "I'm only playing guitar. Didn't you see I was here before you came?"

Since there was a little window on the door, she should had.

     "Of course I didn't, I wouldn't be here if I did."

     "Of course."

     Then she staid here, gazing to the ground, looking lost, as if I disturbed her more than she disturbed me. Which of course was nonsense. I would even say, she kind of frightened me, standing here without a move.

     "So." I said. "Are you coming in or what?

And she came and closed the door quickly without a sound. Then she sat on the corner of the room, just in front of me. I hated being ill-at-ease, so I tried to start a conversation.

     "Are you playing any instrument?

     "No."

     "Why are you here then?"

     "To read."

     "Can't you read anywhere else?"

     "No."

     "Why?"

She didn't respond. As the silence made himself comfortable, I realized I didn't even asked for her name.

     "I'm Dante, by the way."

     "Ember."

     And then silence came back. I decided to continue playing, even if I didn't like playing in front of someone else. Fortunately, she took a book and started reading. I take a look at her book. Wuthering Heights, by Emily Brontë. That was the name. I wondered what it was about, and as I was spying her, I didn't noticed I'd stopped playing. She looked at me shyly, confused.

     "I like the way you play. Can you do it again please?"

     I knew it was asking her a lot to talk, so I was glad she finally said a word to me, others than the very short answer she gave me before. So, for her, I replay the same song as I was playing before I stopped. Supersonic, by Oasis. One of my favorite song. So here we were, she reading her book while I played music. Both doing what we truly wanted to do. When the bell rings, we both made a silent promise that we would come here again the next week. And for weeks, we came in this little room. We didn't talked, we only read and play music. I saw books scroll in her hands, and each time I went on internet to know what they were dealing with. It was my way to learn about her. As her listening to my songs was her way to know about me, about what I liked. This way, we never complained about what we hated, only sharing what was important to us, what we loved. Since we were both in last year, we knew we would have to say good-byes. But when the time came, we made a promise, this time loudly spoken, to see each other again one day. I went to a college to learn math, she studied literature. But as years passed, we never met again.

     When I finally finished my studies, I decided to go to my old school, where we had met this fateful day. I stand in front of the door, since I couldn't enter for security reasons. I was feeling sad. Sad, because I still listened to my parents to know what kind of job I should do. Sad, because now it was too late to change, I already had passed interviews for some jobs. And sad, at last because I missed her. Ember. After five years without seeing her, I still remembered her name. I could even tell the color of her eyes. They were still haunting me in my dreams. Sometimes nightmares. I could always made a list from all the books she had read in this room. And there I was, nostalgic and sad, when I heard footsteps behind me. Before I could turn to see who was coming, I felt arms coming in my back and hugged me. And then I felt it. I knew from the bottom of my heart who was standing behind me. When I finally turned and saw her face, my heart thrown fireworks in me. I hugged her more than she did.

     "I don't want to be away from you anymore." she said.

     "Me neither."

     I invited her in my room, in the apartment I shared with two others people. Unlike all the times we spend in the school music room, we talked a lot. We even talked so much that we had to stay for the night. She told me she had done with studies, and that she was now looking for a job, to be an English teacher. That was why she was in the school that day.

     Since then, she works as an English teacher, and me as a accounting, only playing guitar in my free time, for Ember and our children, Leslie and Chance. And we live happily, only hearing from our parents on Christmas and birthdays. Which is enough for our happiness.