The City Sleeps for Me

6 - Emily

Emily

Over the next week or so, I play for the blind girl in the library. She's the best audience I've ever had. 

Most of the time, I play and she listens. But other times, we just talk. 

"Can I ask you about being blind?" I'm sitting on the ground with my legs crossed, plucking faintly at the strings. 

Rebecca tugs at one of her braids. "Sure."

"Do you have dreams?"

She smiles. "Yeah, I dream. Just in sounds and smells and touch."

"Wow. And colors, you don't know what those are?"

"I know red is fire. Blue is water. White is snow. Brown is mud. Things like that. Brown was hard to imagine, though. My hair is brown. But my hair isn't like mud, isn't it?"

I laugh. "No."

"What about you? How long have you been playing the violin?"

I glance down at the violin in my arms, the smooth, shining wood glistening up at me. "I guess I must've been five when my mom put me in lessons."

"Your mom?"

"Yeah. She lives in California, now. She's in the military."

I watch as Rebecca twists her lips, runs her hands along her jeans. Today she's wearing a cream-colored sweater and brown boots. 

"Oh," she says. "That's far."

"Yeah, it is far." I pluck out a cord. My mom, she hasn't even heard me play the violin in years. I don't see her very often now. She still calls me and we'll talk, though. It's weird - she seems more like a distant aunt or something to me than my mother. 

"What about relationships?" Rebecca asks. "Have any boyfriends at school or anything?"

I slide my bow across the E string, turn the peg slightly, and play it again. "I had a girlfriend last year, but we broke up. Didn't work out." Her name was Diana. She was sweet, but really loud and talkative and a bit possessive of me. 

"A girlfriend?"

I glance up at Rebecca. "Yeah, I'm bisexual."

"Huh. That's cool. I guess - I don't know what I am. I've never dated anyone."

I smile, even though she can't see me, and slide my bow smoothy across the A. The full sound echoes around the room. "Well, that's okay."

"Yeah, that's okay." Rebecca brushes her fingers across her lips.

There's a faint knock on the door of the study room and I lower my violin, glancing over my shoulder. I stand up quickly and pull open the door.

"Hello, girls!" says Mrs. Summers, beaming. Today, her sunflower brooch is resting on a bright blue cardigan, and she has colorful dangly earrings. "Just wanted to remind you that the library is closing soon."

"Already?" I pull my phone out of my back pocket and check the time. "I guess so."

Mrs. Summers reaches out and squeezes my shoulder. "I'm so glad you girls have become friends!"

Rebecca smiles. "Emily is an amazing violinist, isn't she?"

"I'm sure she is, but I've never heard her play! Emily, you must play for me sometime."

I feel my face heating up. "Okay."

Mrs. Summers winks at me. "Anyway, Rebecca, tell your lovely mother I said hello. Have a good night, girls!"

I lock up my violin and walk Rebecca back to her apartment. It's almost completely dark out now, the street lamps lit, but the city is more alive than ever. Lights flash and illuminate the freckles on her face as we walk. 

"You've never played for Mrs. Summers?" asks Rebecca.

I grit my teeth as a cold gust of wind washes over us, and stuff my hands deep in my coat pockets. "Guess not."

"You're so good. You should play for all of the city."

I laugh. "Yeah, right."

"Really." 

We stop at the cross walk, the electric sign across the street flashing an orange hand. I don't know how she always knows when to stop. 

"Anyway," she says. "Have fun at school tomorrow. Steven is a jerk."

I glance at her and smile. I was ranting to her about Steven earlier. Yeah, Steven has been acting like a jerk lately. But he doesn't seem so bad now, walking down the lit up streets with Rebecca. 

"Thanks," I say. We stop in front of her apartment building, an older tan building with crumbling paint, and she pulls out her key from her coat pocket. "Talk to you later."

"Bye," she says, smiling. Her eyes gaze past my shoulder, but it doesn't creep me out. Her unmoving eyes are kind of calming, really. I wonder what she thinks I look like. I suppose I could tell her I have blonde hair and blue eyes - but no, I guess she wouldn't know what that looks like. That's the good part about being friends with a blind person, they can think you're way more attractive than you actually are.

I watch her walk up the steps to her apartment, then I start down the street to the bus stop, swinging my violin case at my side. I pass by a few people smoking against buildings, their eyes flickering down to my case, and I smile at them briefly. When do I ever smile at people?

Fifteen minutes later, the bus stops down the block from my apartment, and I hurry out. It's already almost ten o'clock on a school night, and Dad hates it when I'm out late. I'm in too much of a good mood to argue with him tonight.

I run up the steps, running my hand along the musty railing, and burst into the apartment.

"Dad?" I call, locking the door behind me. The news is on in the living room. "I'm home!"

"Hey, Emily." Dad shuffles out of his bedroom and into his kitchen, his navy blue tie disheveled. He looks incredibly exhausted, and he runs his hand over his stubbled face. "I just got back from work."

"Okay. I just got back from the library."

Dad yawns and looks down at my violin case. "How's the playing going?"

"It's alright."

"Good, good... well, I'm off to bed. There's some leftover chicken if you're hungry. Can you take care of the dishes?"

I set my case gently on the ground and peel off my coat, glancing at the dirty dishes stacked up beside the sink. I can tell he's still trying to make up for getting so mad at me last week.  

My father's relationship with me is like a tight rubber band that snaps every week or two. You never know when he's going to off. But it's not tonight. 

"Sure, Dad," I say. 

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

I suddenly have a strange urge to go up to the roof and just play, not caring what neighbors hear me. But that urge fades away fast. I'm just not good at performing when other people are listening - besides Rebecca. 

Besides, it's late out. I wash the dishes.