Page 54 of Hypothetical Heart
I was around twelve when I decided I really wanted toget good, and I was sick of waiting for the weekly practice with my teacher just for her to tell me I was making the same mistakes.
I practiced constantly, with or without an instructor, and eventually, I stopped making the same mistakes and could move onto fixing new ones.
“Are you going to play?” my little sister, Mae, asks as she exits her bedroom.
“Yeah,” I reply.
She takes a seat in one of the beanbags in the corner of the room. “What song?”
“Have a suggestion?” Mae has always loved hearing me play. I’m reminded of when she was around seven years old, and she would sit in here with me every day, suggesting song after song.
“Can you play Another Love?”
“By Tom Odell?” She nods. Her obsession with sad songs has been long-lived, and she always loves hearing them on the piano. “Sure, grab me the purple book behind you.”
I recognize the notes when I open the book, and they flow easily as I start playing. I’ve played this song before, but it’s been a long time.
I get to the chorus, pounding hard on the keys as Mae taps her foot. It doesn’t feel like I’m playing anymore because I already know what key is next before I even read the sheet music. Every note comes naturally.
I see movement in my peripheral vision and assume it’s my mom. It’s not uncommon for her to sneak up here and listen when she hears me playing.
But when I finish the song, I look over to see Winnie. She smiles lightly, waving towards Mae.
It’s been a few days since I’ve seen her. A few days sinceshe jumped in the shower with me, and it’s all I can think about when I look at her.
“What are you doing over here?” I ask.
“I heard you playing while I was outside with Suzie, and I wanted to come over and get a better listen,” she says.
“Sorry, I didn’t notice the window was open.”
“Don’t be, I’m glad I heard. You haven’t played in a while. Why today?”Because my mom is badgering me about asking you to prom, and I can barely admit that it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I just haven’t thought about it the past few weeks, but I stopped at the top of the stairs, noticed the piano, and decided to sit down at it.”
“Play another song,” she tells me, leaning against the banister behind me.
“Sure, what one?”
Her shoulders lift. “It doesn’t matter.”
I nod, flipping to the next page of the sheet music book in front of me. I don’t recognize the song, but I play it anyway.
The song is comforting in the most unfamiliar way because I don’t know how it’s going to sound when I play the next note, but I do know that I’ll be able to play it.
It’s one of the most beautiful songs I think I’ve ever played, and that’s probably because I had no expectations of how it should sound.
“Wow,” Winnie sighs as I hit the last key.
“Here, sit,” I tell her, scooting over and patting the spot on the bench next to me. She places her hands under her thighs as she sits. “Do you want to play something?”
She looks at me as if I asked her to go deep-sea diving without oxygen tanks. “I don’t know how.”
“We’ll do something easy,” I reply, putting away the sheet music in front of me. “Mae, can you grab the yellowand orange book from inside the drawer right there?” I point towards the dresser behind her.
She hands me one of the first books of sheet music I ever learned to play with, flipping through it to find the most worn-out page.
“This song was my favorite when I was seven, and my mom grew to hate it because it was all I played sunup to sun down.”
