Memories of your Embrace

Part 1

As the lights began to silence outside his window James Delaney ignited his piano. He began slow and quiet, trying to force something, anything, new from his hands. He hadn’t been able to compose in months.

Lost in memories his notes caught upon a familiar melody. Too entranced to stop he stumbled forward picking up the harmony. It was their song, Melody to Oblivion.

He laughed bitterly but the beauty swept the noise away. People on the streets of New Venetia stopped to listen. A few peered up at James’s silhouette in the second story study, desperate to catch a glimpse of a true master. But James didn’t notice, because his mind was a million miles away with his heart.

They had met twenty years ago, in Lightsdale. The lights were low and Minnie’s hair was bubble-gum pink. James was balancing three wine-glasses as he turned the corner. He dropped them each in succession.

Immediately from across the club the barkeep began to cuss James out, but his voice was mute. The chatter quieted, the strobes slowed, and the bass seemed a mile away.

James had caught a glimpse of the fire he had always been searching for in his music. The base reaction that screams “Yes!” into the night. He was in love.

Slowly the bubble-gum girl with the purple martini looked up. She smiled coyly. With the tip of her left pinky she waved softly.

Stunned and out of place, James immediately dropped the tray with a clash onto the broken glass. She giggled. Blushing profusely he managed to wave back… to be pushed aside by two loud, rock-n-roll, grab-and-go girls who were waving wildly back and cooing at Bubble-gum’s outfit. It was red striped and clashed wonderfully with her hair, her black boots, and her nose ring.

The music returned in a rush. James sighed and began to pick the larger chunks up with his bare hands. His boss fired him that night, but he couldn’t help but feel it was worth it.

Three years passed. James had given up on his music-degree and was pursuing a bachelor’s in finance. Privately however, he still practiced at night. On weeknights it was mostly just fingering, because the dorm would expel him otherwise. Even then it was only a little because his studies took up most of his time. He wasn’t made for accounting.

But Saturday night, when most people were out anyways he was finally free. He would force open the splintered old window, wipe the dust from his piano and begin to play. Perhaps it was no longer something he should be doing, that it was now an utter waste of time, he was better then ever. His heart would rush into the keys and his piano would sing of the bubble-girl he’d once met.

This private ritual continued every Saturday night until one special night. Everything was normal until around 12:23 when a knock came from the door. James gasped and immediately slammed the piano shut. He knew this would happen sooner or later- it was against policy to play after 10PM.

He did a sharp intake of breath and pulled open the door. It was her.

Her hair was no longer pink; it was its natural blonde. However she still wore it in the same sausage-curls and had the same coy smile.

“Hello?” he asked, hardly as flustered as he was simply surprised.

“I heard you playing,” she stated. “May I come in?”

“Sure!” he smiled. “My name is James.”

She laughed, “So was my father’s. What were you playing?”

“Bach, nothing too complicated, but it calms my nerves.”

“Do you play every night?” she asked.

James almost sighed but thought better of it. “No, only Saturdays.”

“I know, I hear you.”

“Oh?” James responded, for lack of anything better.

“Your very good,” she smiled, sitting down on the couch next to the piano. She gestured with her eyes for him to start playing.

He complied. “Yeah, y’know. We all have to have a hobby right? Piano makes me feel good and gets me to sleep on Saturday nights when I’m alone.”

“I just masturbate,” she responded, seeming to only half-hear her own words, entirely swept up with his playing.

James’s playing rumpled slightly, that was certainly forward. If it had been anyone else it would’ve been enough to scare him away. But she seemed special. “So… do you have a name?”

“Yes,” she said in the same direct manner.

After a long moment and a dozen notes, James asked, “So, are you going to tell me it?”

“Next time,” she smiled.