The Medium of Memory | ONC2020

7. The Mirror

Charlotte had been more subdued on the way to the house this time, perhaps sharing my worries about another failure.

Though I told myself my primary purpose was to learn how to control my power, I confess that in the forefront of my mind was my desire to please Charlotte, and prove my worth to her.

Upon our arrival, the sun peeked through the trees. The house, though still drab in appearance, took on a slightly more hospitable glow, at least to my mind.

We explored the property, but found nothing of interest but the old well and a dilapidated shed, mostly lacking its walls and still barely sporting a roof. We left the horse tied there so it could take shelter from the midday sun and because Charlotte was concerned it might rain later in the day.

After this, we could put off entering the house no longer. I felt only minor apprehension as we mounted the steps and unlocked the door.

Inside, the hazy sunlight filtered in through the grimy windows. The persistent hum of memories was again present, but this time I found it less discordant. More familiar. "Can you discern anything from it?" Charlotte asked.

I sighed. "Not yet."

I kept my hands to myself, deciding this time to choose my objects more carefully. We wandered about the front sitting room, peering at everything, while Charlotte recorded her observations in her small notebook. I noticed a low bookcase this time, filled with romantic titles of the recent past.

Eventually, we moved on to the piano room. Charlotte began rearranging some of the piles of clutter, stacking what seemed likely irrelevant to our investigation in a corner out of the way.

I was drawn to the birdcage. So odd an object with its morbid inhabitant. I closed my eyes, concentrated, and ran my fingers along its narrow bars.

It was as if one sound suddenly rose out of the background buzz of memories. A quick and lively series of chirps, repeated three times and then dying away.

"Did you hear that?" Charlotte asked, lifting her head. "A wren."

I opened my eyes and removed my hand from the cage. "You heard it too, then? The bird?"

She nodded, and her eyes grew bigger with wonder. "This is amazing!" she squealed with delight.

Pleased with myself, I moved over to the piano bench. "Let's try this," I said, my hands hovering just above the keys.

"Don't tax yourself," she warned, but made no move to stop me.

I closed my eyes, breathed deeply and let my mind melt like ice into water. I lowered my hands to the keys. At first, nothing happened. Then a fragment of a song came to me, as if on a breeze. I somehow knew it. My fingers began to move, practically of their own accord.

A greyish haze began to creep over my vision, but I calmly accepted it this time, and simply closed my eyes to it. I could feel my fingers moving. I could hear the delightful music, though the piano was certainly in need of tuning.

When I finished, I blinked open my eyes and swooned. Charlotte rushed to my side to steady me, kneeling down to look me in the eyes. I saw tears glistening in hers.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh," she replied, dabbing away a tear. "That was a popular song from when I was very young. It brought back memories of happy times." She smiled. "I didn't know you play the piano so well."

I looked down at my own hands. "I don't."

***

"This is incredible!" Charlotte veritably danced into the kitchen. "Try this," she said, gesturing to the stove. It was an old-fashioned, wood-burning variety.