Smarty | A Curtis Sister Story

7

It's been a few days since I've been grounded, and Miguel told me he loves me. This whole thing make me feel ... weird. Uncomfortable. I don't know if I love him back, I don't know if I'll ever know.

I've never had anyone really tell me they love me. I mean, every now and then by my brothers, but not that often. The gang would never be caught dead saying it.

The only ones that would say it on a daily basis is my parents. Mom would say it to me everyday, before I left for school and before bed. Dad would tell me before bed too. He would always say "Goodnight Smarty, I love you". He then would tickle me and say not to let the bed bugs bite. I would giggle every time. Mom would tell me, "Goodnight babe, I love you". Then she would give me a big, sloppy kiss on my forehead. Then she would give me that award-winning smile of hers, and I would grin back. Her smile was contagious, just like Soda's. I long to feel her lips on my head one last time.

I've been avoiding my boyfriend (if I could even call him that now) at school. Walking different ways to class, not sitting with him at lunch, even finding a new way to walk to and from school, so we don't pass his house. I'm relieved that Pony hadn't said anything about it. I'm not sure what I would say if he did ask.

I've been feeling pretty down lately. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I lost someone I had so much fun with. One of my only friends, who I just so happen to kiss. I lost something so good, someone so pure and fun. 

I might have really loved him, I don't know anymore.

I was dusting the furniture after school when I came across the piano in the corner of the dining room. It was dark brown with black designs ingraved on the wood. The pedals were black too. It was worn, the legs had chips from old age and from people kicking it.

I used to love this thing, and so did Mom. She loved classical music, especially Beethoven. She told me her father loved it, so she did too. For their fifteen year anniversary, Dad learned Moonlight Sonata and played it for her on our home piano. She told me how magical it was. I was only six at the time, so I don't really remember it very well. But, when I was ten, Mom taught me to play it. I love piano and classical music because of her.

When I'm feeling sad or I'm missing them, I play it. I sit at the bench, like I have done for what seems like a million times. I was home alone, which is a good thing. I would never, ever play this while someone else is home. It makes the song not special anymore. It's something that me and her share, I couldn't experience it with anyone else. It's not something she would want, it's not something I want.

I take a deep breath, feeling the texture of the keys on my fingertips. She sat here and taught me this three years ago. Just three years ago we were bonding over something as simple as music. I feels like yesterday and a million years ago at the same time. 

I play the notes, just like she did. Just like she taught me. Just like we played it many times after that. It makes me feel like she's still here, watching over me. I can sense her warmth and smile, just like I did when I played it by myself for the first time. I recall how ecstatic she was for me when I finished it correctly, her smile was euphoric. 

I closed my eyes and kept playing. I miss her so much. I can faintly smell her, the lavender and vanilla scented perfume she always wore. It reminds me of the good old days, when I had nothing to worry about. I was just a happy little girl with a family who loves her.

I didn't hear Pony come in from hanging out with Johnny, or Soda coming home from work early. I was too engulfed in the song. I blocked out everything else but my mother and Beethoven. It's what happens every time I play. 

When I finished, I opened my eyes to see Pony and Soda watching me.

"Why are you guys here?" I ask rudely. I feel my cheeks get hot.

"I got homework to do." Pony tells me.

"And I got off work early." Soda adds.

"No, no, no!" By the time I was finished being in disbelief, I was yelling. This can't be happening, this is our song! They weren't supposed to hear it! 

"What's wrong Smarty?" Soda asks me.

I was starting to break down. "This is our song! Not yours. You're not supposed to hear it." By the end, my eyes were swelled up with tears.

Soda sat on the bench next to me. "It's okay Smarty."

I shot up from where I was sitting. "No it's not! It's not okay!" I quieted down, tears still streaming down my puffy cheeks. "This was our song."

Soda gets up from the seat and pulls me into a hug. I weep into his DX shirt, breathing in the faint smell of gasoline. Pony joins into the hug, grabbing in from behind me so I was sandwiched in the middle. When I pull away, Soda smiles, Mom's smile. I long for her again. her warmth, her loveliness. 

"What's been goin' on lately Smarty?" I sniffle and look at him with a confused glance, "I mean, we go a different way to school, you sit at a different table than you usually do, you even changed the way you go to class. What's up?"

Pony looks at me worriedly. Soda looks at me too, the same way. I decided to come clean, what's the worst that could happen? "Miguel told me he loved me a few days ago when we were on a date. I ran away from him, and have been avoiding him ever since."

"Why?" Pony asks, "Do you not love him?"

"Yes ... no ... I don't know, I'm just all mixed up." I admit, my tears coming back, "I think I do, but it's too fast. He put me on the spot, and I was uncomfortable. But, I lost my best friend. My only one pretty much." 

Pony hugs me again, tighter this time, but I don't feel Soda. I glance up at him. He looks tense; as if he was going to start crying. I told myself it was my imagination, and ignored it. What would he have to cry about?