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Day 27: A Song That You Wish You Could Play [on an Instrument]

Day 27: A Song That You Wish You Could Play [on an Instrument]

"Moonlight Sonata (Mvt. 1)" by Beethoven

I toss and turn in bed, but no matter how much I try to get settled, I can’t.  The room’s just too big and empty.  Knowing I won’t be able to fall asleep anytime soon, not with all these thoughts swirling around in my mind, I climb out of bed.  Grabbing one of my sweatshirts, still smelling like home, I tug it on before slipping out of my room.

Being in this monstrosity of a Beverly Hills mansion for only a week, I have yet to figure out my way to the next floor, let alone finding the way to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of warm milk.  Staying cooped up inside my room probably wasn’t a very smart decision.  After all, aren’t you supposed to get to know the hot-short film director that turns out to be your father after your mother drinks herself to death?

That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.

I pull down the sleeves of my slightly oversized sweatshirt over my hands, the slight chill of the cold November air creeping underneath the doors and seeping into my bones.  I walk around, searching for a staircase that will take me from the second floor to the first.  Soon finding one, I begin walking down it but stop when I hear the soft sound of piano keys.  Cocking my head to the side, I listen.  My feet move on their own accord and walk down the rest of the stairs.  With my feet on the ground floor, I search for the music by following its melodious sound.

“Who’d be up at three in the morning?” I ask myself quietly.

The corridor I walk down is huge with great wooden doors on both sides leading off to who knows where.  Getting near to the end of the hallway, the music getting louder and louder at each step I take, a broad arch doorway to my right opens up to a large ballroom.

One of the many chandeliers hanging from the lofty ceiling gives off a pale light in the room.  The music is louder than ever before and I spot a grand piano tucked away in one of the farthest corners of the room.  Someone is sitting at the piano and playing.

I hesitantly step inside the ballroom and begin walking across the floor in my mismatched socks towards the piano.  The figure playing doesn’t stop playing and I assume they haven’t spotted me yet.  Getting closer, I see it’s boy about my age, possibly older, playing.  Oddly, he’s staring right at me except he doesn’t say anything.

I finally get to the piano.  The music is a bit softer and I finally speak.  “Beautiful playing.  What piece is that?”

Startled, the boy slips in his playing and the jarring sound of many piano keys pressed at the same time fill the air.  “To answer your question, Moonlight Sonata.  Now, who are you?” the boy asks gruffly.

I stare at him, puzzled.  Shouldn’t he be able to see me?  Sure, it’s a bit dark in here but there’s no reason to not be able to see who I am.  “I’m Brooklyn.  And you are?”

“Gage.  Didn’t Colin tell you it’s not okay to sneak up on the blind person living here?” Gage asks with the same gruffness as before.

I’m shocked.

Blind?

And then it all clicks.

Slapping the palm of my hand on my forehead, I groan.  “I’m an idiot,” I mumble to myself.  “I am so sorry.  I swear I didn’t know.  Colin and I haven’t talked a lot,” I tell Gage

“Oh.”  The gruffness is gone and instead an almost apologetic tone replaces it.  “Well, my bad.  Sorry for being harsh with you.”

“It’s fine… I guess…”  I rest my forearms on the edge of the piano.  “Why are you up so late?”

“Late?”

“It’s three in the morning,” I inform Gage.

He shrugs.  “Colin says I’ve developed a case of insomnia, but I just tell him night or day, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Now it’s my turn to say “Oh.”

“And why are you up this late, or early, if you want to look at it like that?”

“My mind wouldn’t shut up.”

A low chuckle escapes Gage.  “Finally, someone with a sense of humor.”  He quickly sobers up.  “So why are you here?” Gage asks me while crossing his arms in front of his chest.  He stares at me, which unnerves me, to be completely honest, and waits for an answer.

I wonder how to tell Gage, a person I didn’t even know until five minutes ago, when I haven’t even come to grips with it myself.   “He’s my dad,” I say.  “Or, that’s what the birth certificate says, not to mention what Social Services says.”

“You’re a minor?”

“I’ll be eighteen in January.  Don’t know why I can’t just live on my own instead of having to go through this big, long legal process.”

“Politics.  It’s screwed up.  But you didn’t fully answer my question.  What brought you here to live with Colin?”

“Mom died,” I tell him, trimming the fat on the truth.  Yes, she did die, but she had some help from the bottle always clutched in her hand.

“I’d tell you I’m sorry but most people hate that crap.”

“She wasn’t a very good mom, but I still loved her.”  To get off the subject, I turn the tables on him.  “So what about you?  What brought you here?”

“A hit-and-run.  Parents were killed and so was my sight.  Colin was a close friend to my father and took me in.”

I yawn before answering.  “Wow.”

“He’s like another father figure to me.  You should head back to bed.”

I remember the reason why I even came down here.  “I will after dragging a glass of milk. Where’s the kitchen?”

“You’re asking a blind guy for directions?” Gage asks with amusement in his voice.

“Well, I—“

“Relax.  I know this place better than Colin does,” Gage assures me before giving me directions.

Armed with a slight knowledge of where I’m going, I bide Gage good night (or good morning, choose your pick) before setting off to find a warm glass of milk.

But not before promising to come find him tomorrow.

The prospect leaves a smile on my face.