Angel of Music

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Recoiling Old Memories

On the other side of the door, her mother stares blankly at the wrapped gift. She knows. It is the only object she knows that holds this shape. Only one object she knows off. One object that brings back so many memories of the past.

Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out.

It has become difficult to breathe. The lump in her throat is becoming unbearable. Soon the tears will be released, but she tries to remain calm as she breathes in. Surely a gift should not provide you with this type of emotions.

Her husband, hearing her new state, advances towards her. Checking to see if she is fine. Seeing her state, he sits beside her and holds her hand. He cares for his wife more than anything and loathes to see her in such a state. It is a knife to his heart.

"What is it, my love," he asks with worry while placing his hand on her cheek. He has never seen her in such a state before. He has seen her cry, wail, yell, scream, snap, threaten, howl, argue, complain and many others. Yet, he has never seen his wife in this state. She is on the verge of tears, but yet she does not appear sad. She is blankly staring at something. What can make her go into such a state?

His wife grasps something from the coffee table. Placing it on her lap, he glances down to study the object.

Realisation hit him.

He knows the object very well. Never has he forgotten. How can he forget, he had designed and constructed it. It is his first design of his that came true. He has created it in his young years when he knew nothing of what he was capable of or what he yearned to do with his life.

His wife watches as he grasped the gift from her lap. Slowly, while taking a deep breath he unwraps the paper that overlays the structure of the object. He is careful not to damage anything. Understanding that age has developed its structure.

It was now his wife turn to hold his hand. More than anybody, she knew that the gift would affect him more than anyone. It held more memories for him than her.

The wrapping paper was off. It was visible to their eyes.

A single tear slips from his eye. Witnessing the tear, his wife rapidly wraps her arms around her husband. It is an emotional moment. Wrapping his arms around his wife, he allowed her to hold him during his moment of weakness. While he cries so does his wife, she is silent with her tears as she understands he requires more attention than she does.

After a tender moment, the married couple departs from their embrace. His eyes scan his wife while she wipes away his tears. Noticing his wife's tears, he too wipes away the remaining teardrops on her cheek.

Both returning to the gift, he traces it over with his hands. Carvings and indents, he feels on the rough surface of its exterior. It feels good to have its surface back under his grasp.

How long had it been since he held it? Twenty-five years? Had it really been that long?

A papier-mache musical box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. Both the cymbals and the Persian robes are withered. The colours that were once so bright have now become dull. Age has been its companion. He merely wishes that its song had not been consumed by age also.

Reaching his hand out, he turns the handle. He knows what is to come. He knows the song well. A song which sent him to sleep many nights. A song which he wrote. His first song.

An unusual tune plays, but both knew the song well.

"Masquerade...turn away from the facade. Masquerade...stop and see to those who really love you," his wife sings in her normal angelic voice that no one ever seems to tire. Her voice is gentle and compelling.

Upon hearing her words, Jack smiles towards her. He stands on his feet and holds his hand for his wife to take. Smiling with a slight blush upon her cheeks, Elsa places her hand within his. Both stand while Jack guides his wife over to the grand window. Standing next to the full-length window, that overlooks the perfect garden, lay a black, ebony, grand piano. Her Angel gestures for her to stand in front of him. Obeying his orders, Elsa felt her husbands arms wrap around her waist as he brings her close to his chest.

Jack looks down upon her neck and saw a slight mark. Smiling, he kisses the white mark that curled at the bottom of her neck. He knows the mark well. It descends down her back with a remarkable likeness to a snowflake form. Beautiful. He adores the design, unlike his wife. She loathes the scare more than anything and detests it whenever her husband notices' it. Often he tells her she has nothing to be ashamed off, but stubborn women she is.

Both have scars to hide. Both convince one another that they are no freak or monster. Both assure each other. Both love each other for who they are, scares and all.

Her Angels music box continued to play. It delightful tune is heard in the background as they hold one another. Knowing the tune well, Jack knows when to sing.

"Elsa, I love you..." her Angel confesses to her with the delightful tune. With a smile, Elsa places a hand on her husbands face As she turned to face him.

Over the years, Elsa has convinced Jack that he requires no mask. She assures him that he is no beast or freak. Jack is beautiful to her, inside and out. With these words, that have occurred throughout the years, he learns to live without his mask. He discovers true beauty comes from within and not from the surface.

Elsa smiles towards her Angel. Placing a kiss upon his malformed cheek, she returns to place a soft genuine kiss upon his lips. Before returning to them again, she whispers, "I love you too, my Angel of music."