Page 59 of The Time It Takes
“Do you want to go read in my room?” he asked me, speaking my love language.
I nodded and we both began to stand to help clear the table, but not before Beau’s voice had us pausing.
“Willow, you know it’s tradition for you to play for us after a meal,” he stated with a gleam in his eyes.
I grinned. “It’s tradition, is it?”
“Indeed, it is now.” He smiled softly.
I dipped my chin, grinning. “Well, in that case, I can’t refuse tradition.”
After the dishes were done, they all followed me into the living room, and I took in the beautiful piano sitting there—always untouched unless I was sitting at it. The idea that they got it just for me made me feel so incredibly wanted that I almost cried every time they asked me to play for them.
“Which one did you play for Juilliard?” Oliver asked casually as they all took a seat on the leather couch.
“An original,” I admitted a bit shyly, not sure how I felt about sharing it.
“I didn’t know you wrote your own sheet music,” Beau acknowledged, though he didn’t sound surprised. He always sat the closest when I played as if he didn’t want to miss a beat. He reminded me a lot of my father. He would have probably been standing over the piano or watching from over my shoulder. The thought lightened something in my chest.
“I have a few unfinished pieces, but I started writing this one a while ago. I just finished it before the deadline so it’s probably not all that great.”
“I’m sure it’s perfect, Will,” Oliver assured me gently. I offered him a smile that didn’t reach my eyes. We still hadn’t talked about what happened between us or what it would mean if I left for New York.
“Does it have a title?” Colleen asked, crossing her legs as she nursed a glass of red wine.
My eyes stayed glued on Oliver’s, then fell to his chest where his tattoo was. “Glass wings,” I told them all hoarsely before focusing my attention on the keys. I ran my fingertips along them gently.
When I started to play, it was all I could hear. I let the soft tune carry me and it spoke deeply into my soul. I wrote this piece about a little girl who used to look at the world like it held all the answers. The only tragedy that existed were storms, but oh, how she danced in them anyway.
The melody picked up and the inspiration for the piece came flooding back into me in full force.
The next part was about the girl finding that everything she had ever dreamed of was nothing but that—a dream. Life began to unmask itself and it was horrific to a little girl who only ever saw the good. The little girl who thought storms were the most disastrous things the world could bring was suddenly faced with a deeper loss. Something that triggered her into a state of deprivation.
She lost the love she always thought she’d have—her father’s. For a while, she went through the motions and the tempo soothed into a steady rhythm. The brother who anchored her. That was until she started to grow up and began to pick out the worst in the world until it all seemed to begin to rot. She withered away too.
Only then she lost someone else but in a different way. This one was a choice. This person chose to leave her behind and for that, she had to grow up too fast. She had her brother, but what was a child without her mother?
The speed built and I moved my body with the sound of the keys my hands glided over and I knew this was where I was meant to be—stuck inside these memories like paint clinging to a wall. This was where the art happened. This was where it all began and ended.
Then the sad little girl someday came across her best friend. A boy who helped her believe in hope again. A boy who promised to stay and she believed him. For the first time, she was coming up for air and it was for a boy she should have noticed sooner. He was the world she wanted to be in. He was her chaos, her madness, her person.
For once she felt chosen. Where the sky had gone gray above her, he was the one that pried open the forest she now got to roam free in. Completely safe in a land built for the stars.
Her own personal haven.
She panicked for a moment when she lost him in the bad memories trying to break through.
My hands eased on the keys when she spotted him. He stood there waiting for her at the end of the tree line as the world threatened to cave in.
When she reached his arms, she knew nothing bad could touch her ever again.
In his arms, she was home.
The last key rang through the air as I took a deep breath in. I looked up, blinking so the tears didn’t fall. When I gathered myself, I stood and turned to face my audience, my bravado failing me. Their faces were stuck in solemn frowns. Colleen let her tears fall freely and Beau’s shined with unshed ones.
I peeked a glance at Oliver and found him watching me with so much simmering in his eyes. His eyes were lit up and it made me smile knowing I put the fire there.
I fiddled with my hands. “Any critiques?” I joked with an awkward laugh.
