From the diary of Griselda Vargas-Beilschmidt

13

I had no idea we had a set of drums in our house for 11 years.

From the beginning - I was cleaning and needed more cleaner (how is english so easy yet so difficult at the same time?) and so I went to get it from the shelf in the garage and I stumbled upon a drumstick that rolled out of a small cabinet.

I asked Vati why'd he have a pair of drumsticks there, so he showed me a a set of drums in the room next to garage that has no real use except probably being Vati's concert hall. I did wonder many times why was it locked almost 24/7. Also Uncle Gilbert playes guitar??? I thought he settled for flute but okay..

A million ideas of what to do with this flowed through my head and most of them included company.

"Ciao Gabe. Could you come over? I will (fun fact: will means "I want/he/she/it wants" in german) show you something."

"...Gris really? Do you know how would I get there?"

"Uh, it's called a plane?"

"*sigh* You know I'm scared of flying." That's true. My poor friend was terrified of it. But I've got a few tricks up my sleeve as well.

"....I'll make tiramisu..."

Steps and then quick packing could be heard in the background.

"Okay, I'll be there in a few hours."

"E Gabi?"

"Si?"

"Bring your guitar."

I grinned to myself and went to get supplies for his sweet reward.

Gabriel wasn't that kind of person to tell people his weaknesses on the first meeting. Nor on the second. Actually, not ever. You have to figure out.

Flying was one of it. For whatever reason, Gabe hated not seeing the ground underneath him. It filled him with dread.

"Gabe! If you were a bird, what kind would you be?" I asked, looking up in the bright spring sky, thinking that if I just jumped from the swingset a pair of wings would grow on my back and I could just soar there...

Gabriel was silent for a moment.

"A kiwi."

"A kiwi? Perche?" I was incredulous. Sure, kiwis were cute and all, but why pick that when you could be one that can fly?

"I like them."

"Would you not like to be able to fly?"

"No." Gabe stopped swinging.

I was shocked.

"Why not?"

He stood up.

"Gabi?"

"I'm bored. Let's do something else," he groused.

My seven-year-old brain was easily distracted. "Okay! We could..."

I ran to the door right when I heard the bell. There he was, hair ruffled, bags under his eyes, voice grumpy as always.

"Where's the tiramisu?" He said instead of a greeting.

"Si, si, it is nice to see you too."I smiled at him, an action he didn't do much in public, but now he did gave me a slight one back.

So after we ate the dessert, we headed to the garage.

As soon as I told Papa Gabi's coming over, he recognised a chance to go out with Vati, so we had the house for ourselves (and Mitzi, who, again, turned down the opportunity to have a nice walk. But she was sleeping on a radiator now.)

"What is this??" yelled Gabe, pointing at one of the drums.

"This, my dear, I do believe, (shoot, I'm getting a George accent) is called a drum."

The Balearian shook his head. "Oh my god. I can't believe- but on the other hand, I do believe the potato of a man could play that..."

I decided to ignore whatever that was.

"Vati says Uncle Prussia owns an electric guitar."

Gabe shrugged, not really surprised. "Yeah, he does."

I was surprised now.

"What do you mean, 'Yeah, he does'???"

"Well, you know about the club "Our dads are drinking together again"? So we had to pick them up at Prussia's house and we happened to stumble upon it, and George thought it would be a nice wake-up call for the dads, who were passed out." Then he grinned evily. "It had been, Gris. It had been."

Again, the reason why I also made sure I was awake before him on every slumber party ever.

"Okay, so do you want to try it or not?"

"Are you allowed?"

"What do you think?

"You're not."

"And you don't care."

"And you're right."

So we played for hours, mixing it with the guitar sometimes, sometimes trying to create a tune, sometimes just beating in it like a pair of metal lovers.

We tired up eventually.

"I'll go get a drink," Gabe said and hopped down from where was he sitting on the high chair, but he stumbled and fell flat on his face.

I looked at the drums.

Then back at him.

He saw this motion and glared at me.

"Don't you dare, Grissy, don't you dare..."

Too late.

Badum-tss.

______________________

Dialogues! Woooooooo!

I listened to Germany's "Steady Rhytmus" song if you can't tell.

Hi everyone who bothered to read to this part, I appreciate it.

I just wanted to say I'm not sure when/how much/if I'll be able to post next week, because it's a school break and we'll be away, and a) I'm not sure if I can trust the Wifi where we'll be staying and b) I cannot tell if I'll have the time for it. I will probably post next chapter on this weekend but in the case I don't I just wanted you to know.

Thanks for reading! See ya! :)