Untitled Story - Episode 3

"Let's talk about something else," said Adelaide, deflecting attention away from her bandaged hand. They were sitting on a curb by the school driveway, away from the bleachers, entirely to themselves.

"So tell me, what do you like to do?" asked Andy.

"I like to play the piano."

"Do you write any songs? I always ask people when they say they play an instrument whether they write songs. If I had the skills, I'd be writing many songs."

"Well, I don't play all that much to tell you the truth," replied Adelaide, "I only play when it's safe."

"And when is that?"

"When I feel it is. Playing a piano can be very dangerous. Most people don't realize. I don't mean falling off the bench in the midst of an emotional rush and hurting yourself in the process or something like that, though that'd be kind of comical,

"One time I actually saw something, something I'll always remember, though I don't remember where I saw this, maybe I was peeking through a window, maybe I saw it in a drama, or I might have imagined it, I don't know anymore, all I know is that it's vivid in my mind. This beautiful girl was playing the piano. There was something sisterly about her, maybe she was a family friend, or a cousin I never I knew I had. She was a marvelous player, lucid and responsive. She was beautiful too, or graceful, to be more accurate. Her slender body swayed to the highs and lows of the music like tall grass in the breeze. She was made for the piano. She had very delicate fingers too. They were very white,

"She played on a grand piano. It was solid black and very heavy. I could only imagine. She had this lovely kitty too. The cat would rest on the flat surface on top of the piano while the girl was playing. It was heaven for the little kitty to stretch on its stomach against the polished surface with the melody running through its tiny body. Every now and then it peered down at the girls' fingers as they danced on the keyboard,"

Andy listened intently, so Adelaide continued.

"She was playing Moon River. A lovely piece. The kitty on top of the piano was mesmerized by the fluid movement of her white fingers. Then something horrible happened. Maybe it was a subtle movement. Maybe there was something wet or oily. Whatever it was, the kitty slipped, and fell onto the opened lid that folds over the keyboard, and the lid with all its weight caved in, while the girl was playing,

"I saw it as it happened. There was a sharp and sudden silence that destroyed everything. She didn't scream, and she didn't pull her fingers out right away neither. She turned stiff and was shivering a little. I could only imagine the shock, the horror, to see your fingers crushed before your eyes. Then she uttered something which I couldn't make out, and tears were falling, from her eyes and all over,

"I think I was crying too, but I closed my eyes, or I must have run away. I never saw her again. But the image has haunted me ever since. I love playing the piano. But whenever this image appears, whenever the lid takes on a larger life, I would stop playing. Even if I was in the middle of something beautiful, I would just stop and move as far away from the piano as I could."

Andy was clutching his collar. Adelaide zoned out for a few seconds, until she noticed Andy looking at her bandaged hand.

"No! That's not it! If that had happened to me, I wouldn't be able to do this. Look,” Adelaide wiggled her bandaged fingers, "I can move them. Hello!"

"You should take the lid off the piano."

"But that doesn't prevent other things. An anvil from the ceiling. A madman with a hammer," said Adelaide, checking Andy's reaction, "What a messed-up head."

And that was what Andy thought, but he didn't say that. It only made him think of other things to say.

"At least your ankle recovered quickly," said Andy, after a fairly long pause.

"That was nothing."

"You should count your blessing. One time, I kicked a goal post by accident, broke my right ankle and limped for the whole summer. So I thought you might have had it bad."

"Why did you kick the goal post?"

"I was sliding for the ball, it was very close to the goal line, then I got pushed from behind and went in awkwardly, you know, it's part of the game."

"So now whenever you're on the football pitch and you see the goal post, do you fear that the same thing would happen, or out of nowhere your ankle might be completely destroyed and you'd never play again?"

"No. It was just an accident and that's that," said Andy without thinking much of it, until he caught a shade of sadness in Adelaide's expression and felt a big gap that he needed to fill.

"But hey, we all have those fears. It's morbid. It's all up here," said Andy pointing to his head.

The words did not register. Adelaide only gazed into the open air.

"You know what's one of mine? Sometimes I see it in dramas. When a character wants to kill herself, she'd take a blade and…"

"Don't tell me!"

"I can never watch that! I'd get sick all over!"

They pressed their hands into their bodies. Two squeamish children slouched over the curb wincing and giggling while people passing by must have thought them crazy. Andy thought of her hand again.

"Adelaide, tell me, please. What happened to your hand?"

"I was pouring water into a cup and the water was boiling,"

"And?"

"I missed the cup. And I was holding the cup."

"That's it?"

"Yeah. It was hot you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Really," said Andy, then he started laughing.

Adelaide laughed too, very loudly, openly. They both agreed that she was stupid, and they both forgot themselves for a little while.