His Muse

She was here again. That woman peeking through the window. Alexei’s gaze drifted over her, pretending to not notice her presence. Her continued to play, mixing notes together, fingers drifting lightly over creamy white keys; pressing down gently this time.

He could see the mirrors surrounding the room reflect her image; a woman who looked radiantly gorgeous. She was young, maybe twenty-five, with hair of deep chocolate that was covered with a beret. He did not stop playing. She did not notice that he had seen her.

Alexei closed his eyes. Long, tapered fingers flew over keys, almost a blur as her neared the climax. A roaring fury, twangs of mismatched notes sounded out; it itself creating the music. It filled his ears, fired through him, and he forgot all else and encased himself in his music. Poured everything, Anticipation, happiness…

The prancing lit of the ending dwindled down, slowly… then ended with one last key. Alexei hunched over the piano, eyes still closed as he savoured the knowledge that she had been there. By the time his eyes flickered open, he knew that she was gone.

He stood up and drifted over to the window where she had been standing, hands pressed to the glass. It was partially open. He pressed it so that it swung open wide; hinges stiff but movable.

Two weeks ago, she had first visited his window, with the same beret on and an expression of enraptured fascination had swept on her face as she listened to him. He was startled into stopping at the sight of a face at the window. Alexei had been about to speak when she had ducked away and disappeared. He had then thought that it was only a visit in passing, and did not think much about it. But when she had returned again the next day, at about the same time, he was surprised. Deciding not to try and speak to her again, he had pretended to not notice her, all the time while his heart thumped hard against his ribcage. Alexei had never had anyone want to watch him.

And then she came, again and again, and slowly her face became a familiar sight to him. A warm feeling would spread in him every time she pressed up against that window. He realized that he always smiled when he played while she was there; played better than he had before.

He started to think about her, wanting to know her. But he was tentative, shy. Alexei had spent most of the fifteen years playing obsessively, after he found the deep joy in playing the piano at twelve. As a boy, he was often closeted in his own room, an introvert by nature. He had very few friends, if any. Alexei had found solace in the piano, as if each touch of the smooth keys were like fingers comforting him, accepted him. Every time he came back after school, he had to play. It was like an obsessive compulsion to touch the keys, hear the sweet notes with each press. His own diary, in the form of his music. All the day’s frustration would pour out of him, onto the keys, translating into notes that conveyed his feelings. Anger, frustration, joy, sadness.

Alexei stared out of the window, eyes searching although he already knew she was gone. He longed to know her name. She had become important to him.

Somehow during the past two weeks she had become his comfort, for the times when he could not play no matter how he tried, for she had as often stood outside his window watching him with his hands at the keyboard, not playing, as she had been there listening during the times he played. Subsequently he had started to play for her.

The music had changed progressively, delving deeper, into his very heart, showing all his longing to her, the joy her found in her presence. Even though she could not possibly understand what the music meant.

Alexei moved away from the window and sat back down on the piano seat. One hand drifted on the keys, the other to prop up his chin; his elbow on the edge. He played this time, the song that she had never heard. Always after she had left. The constant one; her song. Light, airy, full of fluttering touches. Like her.

The smile reappeared, and even after he left the piano in its room, it still lingered.

---

Alexei opened the door, slipping into the room. The piano stood there, beckoning for his touch. Frustration edged his movements as he dropped his backpack down onto the parquet floor with a resounding thump around the bare, mirrored room. The only thing that was in this room was the grand piano.

Dropping himself down on the seat, he reverently pushed the cover open. Even in his frustration he was gentle with it. Drawing a finger over the keys, the feeling of the grooves against his skin was like a comforting touch that calmed him down. But he still had to play. Laying both hands on his piano, he played.

Halfway through, he stopped. Feeling unsettled, his gaze was drawn towards the window. She was not there. He shook his head. No. she was only late. He started playing again, and then finished the first score. Started again. Stopped. She still wasn’t there. A dark feeling sunk over him. He shook it off, not believing. Placed his hands back on; started pressing again. Stopped again. Glanced at the window. No familiar figure. And then it hit him…

She was not going to come.

Lifting trembling hands off, he placed them on his knees. Swallowed hard. Glanced at the window again. Not here. Not here. Not here! Alexei stood up. Ran to the window in a panic. Heavy disappointment layered over his heart as he saw not the familiar brown hair capped with a beret. Then without a word, Alexei turned, crossed the room, picked up his backpack and left.

For the first time in his life, he did not finish the song.

---

The next few days passed with Alexei in depression. He did visit the room everyday, but always left without completing what he started. It was as if he needed her there; her face pressed up against the window pane, eyes closed, listening. For the first time in his life, his hands refused to move, his mind refused to play. And now all he did was to sit on the bench, face trained towards the window, hoping she would come back.

She didn’t.

And then he realized after a week that he had somehow become attached with her somewhere in the time they had. Her, someone whose name he didn’t even know, who only shared a small amount of her time to watch him, a passerby who he had, ironically formed one-sided connection with. It shouldn’t have surprised him that she had only given him two weeks of her time, a nameless woman who had simply passed by and stopped to listen to him. It shouldn’t have felt like a betrayal. But it did. It did.

It was raining again. Storm clouds had gathered overhead, colouring the streets even darker and sudden flashes of lightning could be seen lighting up the night sky. There were no stars today. Alexei had pulled the bench up to the window, and had been sitting there for over an hour. A turbulent breeze tumbled through the window, whipping into his eyes threading through his blond hair.

Rubbing stinging blue eyes, Alexei was further assaulted with a spattering of misty rain before torrents started to pour like sheets from the sky. It was quiet tonight. There was only a small handful of people out in the streets with umbrellas held over their heads with did basically nothing to shelter them from the deluge.

A knock at the door took his attention away from a struggling man whose umbrella had been blown awry by the playful wind, and while he tried to right it again, he was soaked to the skin by the unforgiving rain.

Alexei shifted around on his seat, not particularly interested in moving away from the window and opening the front door. But the knocking doggedly persisted and he heaved a sigh and stood up.

He crossed over the room and out through the door, into the hallway where a few dry umbrellas had been stacked neatly into a corner. He supposed that who ever was knocking on the door wanted to borrow one. Moving to grab one as he opened the door, he mumbled, “Here you wanted one, right?”

And then was about to thrust the umbrella in whoever’s hands when he froze with his hand in mid air.

“Hey… Can I come in?”

It was her! Momentarily stunned speechless, he could only stare at her while she fidgeted uncomfortably under his unmoving gaze.

“N-never mind.” She stuttered and turned to leave. That knocked Alexei out of his statue position and he grabbed her arm.

“Come in.” he said softly. She nodded hesitantly, looking as if she had just realized that this was a mistake. But then she entered, propping her umbrella against the wall and started taking off her sopping shoes.

Standing behind her, Alexei’s heart drummed like he had been through a marathon. She was here! He could hardly believe it. The shadow in his heart lifted and after two weeks, he finally could smile again.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“What is your name?” he couldn’t help himself. After so long, he had to ask; he finally had a chance to know her name.

“My name is Emmaline.” She replied, turning around, the voice a husky tone that he had immediately liked.

Emmaline…

“What’s yours?” she gazed at him curiously.

“Alexei.” He said, all the while gazing into her warm hazel eyes. They were so beautiful.

“Alexei… could you… could you play for me?” she stepped towards him, and took his hand. Her hand was chilly, but the touch warmed him like nothing ever had. He stared at her, speechless, before a soft smile touched his lips. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her…. Emmaline.

“Of course.” he said happily and gripped her hand, tugging her to the piano room. Letting go, he moved the bench back over to the piano and sat down. Emmaline gravitated towards the window, and then stood there, eyes locked upon him.

And as he started playing, pouring his emotions, his love for her into the notes, he couldn’t help but think this felt like it should be.

She was here, finally.