Page 30 of Broken Butterfly
“Something from the heart?” I ask her and she nods.
I look at Fallon who hasn’t taken his eyes off me since he entered the room. I decide on something modern. Something that reminds me of Fallon. I close my eyes and begin to play “Wonderlust” by Will Post. As my fingers move over the keys and the melody flows, I sing the lyrics. I love the words of the song. It’s a perfect theme for the journey I’m on with Fallon.
When I finish, Tatiána leans over to Fallon and tells him, “She’s very good, brother,” then stands up. “You are welcome to play any time you wish, Elizabeth. You both must be tired from your journey today, so I will give you some time to rest before dinner.” She kisses Fallon on both cheeks again and walks over to do the same to me before taking her leave.
“Why haven’t you done more with your music?” Fallon asks me, his tone almost sounding accusatory.
“My dad taught me. It was always something we did together. Something that connected me to him. I had no desire to pursue a music career even though he was in a band. I play the drums, too.” I smile at him.
“Of course you fucking do. I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do.”
“Thank you, I think. Are you upset with me about something?”
Fallon walks over to the piano and hugs me. I jolt a little at his unexpected show of affection. I hug him back.
“This is nice,” I say. He sits down next to me on the bench and punches a few keys with one finger.
“Can you play?” I ask him.
“If you count chopsticks as playing, then yes.”
I get an idea. “Here, help me turn the bench.” We maneuver the bench so that it’s vertical to the piano. I push Fallon down to sit in a straddle and then sit in front of him.
“What are you up to?”
“You’ll see,” I reply and move his arms around me to position his hands on the keys. Then, I place my hands on top of his. “Now, relax and let me do all the work,” I tell him. “All you have to do is feel the music and let me lead.”
I press down on his thumb, middle finger, and pinky to play a C-major chord. Fallon peers over my shoulder to see what I’m doing. He moves closer behind me and rests his chin on my shoulder.
I tap his fingers. “Relax, Fallon. This won’t work if your fingers are stiff as a board.”
I try again until his fingers loosen up and allow me to guide them. I am the puppet master and he is my puppet. I go slowly at first until he gets the hang of what I’m trying to do. With my hands over his, I start playing a simple version of Pachelbel’sCanon in D major. When I need to shift to a different key position, I gently lift his hands up with mine and move them where I need them to go. After a few tries, Fallon gets the hang of what I’m doing and allows me to manipulate his hands and fingers with ease.
“This is how my dad first taught me to play,” I tell him. “I always loved those days when it was just him and me in the music room. He converted one of the back rooms in our house to a music room, soundproofed it and everything. That’s where he kept all his instruments. I would sit in that room for hours as a little girl and just mess with all the cool instruments he had in there. One day he caught me and that was the first day he sat me in his lap and showed me how to strum a guitar. I was instantly hooked.”
I can feel Fallon’s breath against my cheek as he watches our hands move in synchronicity across the keys.
“I’m sorry about your parents, kitten.”
I shrug off the tears that want to form because what more can I say at this point? I’ve already screamed and cried and thrown things. All that does is give me a headache. It doesn’t bring them back.
“I’m supposed to go back home with the guys for Thanksgiving.” Then it hits me. “Wow, I just realized that Thanksgiving is only two weeks away.” My fingers stop playing. “I haven’t been home since that night. I told Jayson I wasn’t ready to see it, but I agreed to go back with them for Thanksgiving. With my memories back, I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to face that part of my life. After what happened there, how can I look at my childhood home and not see a goddamn house of horrors?”
As I divulge my fears, Fallon turns his hands over to grip mine. “Hewill never hurt you again, Elizabeth,” he says with certainty. “You already lost your memory once. Don’t allowHimto steal all of your good memories of your family as well. Those are the ones you should dream about.”
I move our joined hands to my chest and hold tight. “Will you come with me when I go back?”
“Wherever you go, I follow, remember?” Fallon lets go of me and stands up from the bench. “Let me show you to your room. It’s pink. You should love it,” he says, smirking and tugging on my hair.
I laugh, glad that some of the tension that suddenly popped up between us eases. I pat the Steinway one last time in reverence and follow Fallon out of the room.
“Tatiána is so nice. How can the two of you be related?” I tease.
“She was lucky in the fact that her mother is a loving woman who cherished her daughter. That, and Tatiána never had to live in the same house as my father. I envy my half-siblings for that alone.”
“Trevor mentioned that he speaks with your father on occasion.”
Fallon mumbles something under his breath that I don’t catch.
