New Tale to Tell Chapter 3: His Mother's Influence

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New Tale to Tell
Chapter 3
by Justin M.
Copyright © 2020 Justin M. All rights reserved.

It’s in one of the practice rooms he finds what he didn't know he was looking for. A baby grand. With the door closed he sits at the bench, his hand caresses then lifts the key lid. “Only a scale or two”, he thinks. But fingers guided by his heart betray him.

~o~O~o~

Chapter 3:

CHAPTER 3: HIS MOTHER’S INFLUENCE

Being alone one often has ample time to ponder. It’s these times thoughts come to us unbidden. On this afternoon Jonathan’s thoughts have detoured from what’s become his norm; painful memories of the loss of his parents. To this new school and one particular student. The dark haired girl. The pretty one that’s always in a dress. Her simple presence has accomplished what months of counseling has failed. She’s penetrated his torment. Gotten beyond the veil of shame. She is in. And he feels guilty for not feeling guilty over it.

He’s noticed she spends as much of her time in the library as he does. On one occasion she actually walked into his table as she was leaving. (Shelby had been so intent on him as he studied she failed to see the table in front of her as she walked). Embarrassed she quickly turned to hide her blushed face and headed for the exit. Jonathan notes that despite his ever-present low mood he can't help but stare at her as she walks away. He sees her long black tresses flowing down between square shoulders above a trim waist, “just right hips” and long shapely legs. The way her hips swish under her skirt gives him an exquisitely strange feeling all over. Outside of lessons he finds it increasingly hard to concentrate whenever he knows she's near.

Perhaps it’s the girl, a deeply ingrained need for expression, or some other intangible trigger, whatever it is, the pull of his mother's influence finally becomes too much. It's a Tuesday. After the final bell instead of heading to the library to do homework, or to study, something, anything to keep from going home, he finds himself wandering the halls of the arts wing. When he reaches the music department he turns down the hall. The school has an impressive program complete with a large practice area for the various seasonal groups; marching band, symphonic band, string quartet and even jazz band. To his satisfaction there are smaller studios for single and group play. The school even has a recording studio, complete with mixing room, by the music director’s office.

It’s in one of the practice rooms he finds what he didn't realize he was looking for. A baby grand. With the door closed he sits at the bench, his hand caresses then lifts the key lid. “Only a scale or two”, he thinks. But fingers guided by his heart betray him. Brahms begins under his hands. The lullaby has special meaning for him. His mother had played it for him as a baby. He would sit in her lap as she played and fall asleep rocking with her movements. Later she would teach it to him. Though not as adept as his mother he enjoyed playing. His father had called his adoration of music one of her gifts to him. Often he would teach himself new pieces to play for her. She always wanted to hear him play. When he was older she would lean against him close her eyes and rock to his movements, just as he had...The melody falters, his fingers fail, he quietly sobs as tears land on the keys… he would never be able to play for her again.

Over the next few weeks he will return to the rooms to play again and again. On some days he gets further through the pieces he knows but never finishes. Thoughts of his parents seem to always overcome him and many days he simply ends up crying after only a few notes.

Other days are better. Ironically it's on the good days he thinks he catches a glimpse of the dark haired girl in her ever distracting dresses around the music rooms. Is he imagining or is she really there?

Even at night in the crushing emptiness of a house no longer a home, she seems to permeate his thoughts more and more. Though he knows he should feel guilty for thinking of her, he welcomes the respite from the haunting sadness he feels at the loss of family, the tremendous loneliness that weighs upon him. There is solace in his thoughts of the dark haired girl. The knowledge she will be there in class when he arrives makes him feel, dare he think it? ... better.



This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.


My apologies. Chapter 3 is a bit of a bridge chapter to establish what happens on both sides of the piano room door. Jonathan knows something is going on, he just has to come to terms with it happening.

As before, feel free to comment and inspire me to improve.

v/r
JM

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Comments

Like this one

My5InchFMHeels's picture

This has been a good story so far. Only critique, would be missing commas here and there, but not enough missing to be a distraction.

Yup.

WillowD's picture

I like this one too. Thank you.

A good start...

Patrick Malloy's picture

I like what you have written so far.

Patrick Malloy

Not that stealthy

Jamie Lee's picture

Shelby isn't as stealthy as she thought, or as unobserved. But by what she's doing Johnathan has someone else to think about besides the hurt he still feels.

And maybe the next time he plays Shelby will have the courage to sit in the room with him and help him complete the piece he's playing.

Others have feelings too.