The Melody of Lost Souls

And then I Start to Play

I SIT AT the piano, fingers hovering over the keys. A spotlight shines down on me, which only adds to the stirring nervousness in my stomach. If I look out into the crowd, I would only see ghostly figures of my audience. Somewhere among them sits Atlas. His stunning, melted honey eyes fixated on me with pretend rapt attention. He insists he doesn't mind when I play piano, but I know it bores the hell out of him. The fact that he's here, though, is encouraging.  

I focus my attention on the piano, all the preparations and practicing leading to this moment. 

Then I start to play. 

As the notes fill the air, my fingers flitting over the keys gracefully, my mind wanders back to the time when I didn't think this moment would ever be possible again. 

It has been a full five months since the incident at the hospital. Recovery was slow, and sometimes I still felt a dull pain in my stomach where the bullet hit. It's a miracle I lived. I'd heard once that you were as good as dead if you got shot in the stomach. If that's true, then if it hadn't been for the fact that I was right in front of a hospital, I might have bled out. I mean, I did lose a lot of blood, but I survived. 

Once released from the hospital, I stayed with my parents. For the first time in, well, the nineteen years I've been alive, my mom fretted over me like a normal parent. She refused to let me out of bed longer than to use the bathroom. She brought me all my meals. None of it was fast food either. Each meal was homecooked and heaping amounts of mouthwatering food. My pants feel snug around my waist, indicating how well I ate. 

Our relationship is still strained, though. I don't know if I'll ever fully forgive her for the crap she put Dan and me through when we were younger, But she's trying now. It's better than nothing. 

It was about day four of my bedridden life that my mom ventured to ask about Atlas. 

"Where has your friend been?" she asked. Her tone was overly casual, like she wasn't trying to pry.

I shrugged. Ever since I was shot, I needed space to recover. And then I needed more space. And then the total weight of what had happened to me took hold, and I pushed away completely. I threw myself into my schoolwork, which I desperately needed to catch up on anyway. Desiree had told me that she spoke to Professor Langdon, and the professor was willing to give me another shot. On top of my school work, I was engrossed with practicing. I didn't have much time for anything else. 

"It's a shame," my mom continued. "I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed except when you were with him." 

"Our friendship started because of grief and ended in pain," I point out, glancing down at my stomach. "I don't think it would have worked out after all that." 

She smiled and reached down to cup my cheek. I stiffened, still not used to the sudden flares of motherly gestures. "I know there was more to that friendship, Elijah. I might not have been the most affectionate mother, but I am still your mother. I see the way he looks at you look at each other."