Page 57 of Fractured Mind
I shut my eyes, wondering how he got the surprise in here without me knowing.
“This way,” he says, tugging on my hand.
As he leads the way, I take one step after another, hoping not to trip over anything. Because I can’t see, my senses areheightened. Based on how far we’ve traveled, I’m guessing we’re in the living room when he stops.
“You can open them now.”
My heart pumps faster as my eyes peek open. I’m standing beside the piano. My buzz morphed into unease as I look around and see nothing else. “What’s this?” I ask cautiously.
He pulls the stool out for me from under the piano. “Why don’t you take a seat?”
“You know I can’t play.” My voice comes out harsher than intended. “Thanks for the nice gesture though...” The disappointment of his surprise cuts to the bone.
He smirks while a few strands of hair fall in his face. “Is that a challenge?” he asks with a cocked brow, before his voice turns low and husky. “Because you know how much I love a challenge.”
Swallowing hard, I sit on the cold bench and shift my legs in under the piano. There are knots in my stomach as I stare at the instrument like it’s a foreign object. Already open before me is Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, and I remember it’s the one Nana had playing when I arrived.
“Nana knows about this too?”
“Yes, she does,” he answers, watching my reaction.
I mash my lips together and lift my hands. “There’s no point to this,” I tell him. My voice softens as I ask, “Why are you pushing me to do this?”
“I spoke to Levi’s brother about your condition. He said researchers found that people who suffer from severe memory loss can still have their musical memory intact.”
The weight in my chest is mirrored in the frown on my face. “Just because it works for others doesn’t mean it will work for me.”
“At least you’ll have tried.” The determination in his voice increases my annoyance.
I throw my hands up. “You don’t get it!”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “Try me.”
“You don’t know what it’s like to not know who you are.” Pain and frustration echo in every word. “To have your heart constrict with jealousy and pain when someone talks about their memories. I have wished and hoped for so long to remember my past, but all that has led to is disappointment. Us at the beach is the only memory I’ve had. Otherwise, the pain of the loss of everything else can get so heavy that I struggle to breathe... And this”—I peer down at the piano, clutching my chest—“it hurts, Ashton.” My voice is thick with the threat of tears.
He bends down, our faces only inches apart, and lifts my chin. “It’s different now. I’m here to support you. Ruby and your nana are too. I don’t want to upset you. I’m only asking you to try, and then I’ll never bring it up again.”
“But what if I can’t?” slips out of my mouth.
“But what if you can?” He sees my hesitancy and adds, “Please.”
I shoot him a pointed glare because he knows I struggle to say no to him, and his small smirk tells me exactly that. He gives me a nod of encouragement, and my eyes return to the piano.
I take another deep breath, lean forward toward the keys, and focus on the notes in front of me. Surprisingly, I understand them and hear the music in my head before placing my hands on the keyboard. The first chord is in C-sharp minor, played as a broken chord in the piano’s lower register.
My fingers hit the keys and my hands gracefully carry over the keyboard, following on in a continuous rhythm, the sound echoing around us. As I play, I savor and lean into Beethoven’s intricate, rich chord progressions. The music is calm, becoming agitated only briefly through the climax. I concentrate on the melody. My hands move from one arpeggio to the next, slowingdown and speeding up to match the emotional wave of the music.
I find myself entrapped in the emotive piece, and as my fingers glide through it, I listen to its hauntingly beautiful sounds. This song expresses both happiness and pain, love and loss, and it deeply resonates with me.
Once I finish playing, I raise my hands and turn them over and stare in shock.I did that—I remembered. I have goose bumps from how powerful music is, that even through everything, playing the piano remained with me. My heart is bursting when I turn and look up at Ashton. His smile reflects mine, and I jump off the bench and into his arms as he laughs at me.
Pulling back, I squeal, “I did it!”
His adoring gaze makes my eyes tear up as he cups my face. “I’m proud of you,” he says and presses his lips to mine.
There’s sniffling, and when I turn around, I see Nana. Her eyes are red and her face damp, but she’s smiling.
“Did you hear it? I can’t believe it.”