Part
Four
That's
the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. I packed my bags that night
and I left. My mom begged me to stay but I couldn't. All I could leave her with was a promise that
I would write and call. After walking away from the hole I used to call home, I
stayed with my sister for about a month and then I moved in with a friend
of mine in another city. As the years went on, my promise to keep in touch slowly disappeared. My life had just changed so much and I honestly didn't want to be reminded of what it was before.
I got a job at a school in the cafeteria so that my friend and I could split the rent in our tiny studio apartment. It wasn't the best job, but it kept a roof over my head. More importantly it kept me as far away as possible from my dad. I tried my hardest to keep him out of my thoughts. He wasn't a good memory. Thoughts of him only brought up anger in me. However, one day, while I was at work, a memory of him came to me and ended up changing my life forever.
On a cold, rainy day I decided to take the custodians up on their offer and help clean up inside of the school where I worked, instead of load and unload boxes of food from the trucks outside. As I walked down the hall, dragging a big trash can behind me, I came across the music room. It was filled with so many different instruments, some of them I had never even seen before. The one that caught my eye was the big baby grand piano up on the stage. I walked up to the stage, almost as if I were hypnotized. I just wanted to get a closer look, but I find myself being draw to play it.
I walked up the steps and slowly sat down at the keys. For a long time after I left home, I would get these urges to play the piano, however, soon after I would remember my father and that urge would go away. Still, whether he were there or not, I wanted to know if I could play. So, I placed my hands on the keys and it just felt right. The keys, made of spruce, felt like silk under my fingers. Without even having to think about it, I began to play, No particular place to go. I got lost in the song! I played louder and stronger than I ever have. It felt so good to play again. It almost felt like I was breathing for the first time.
"Wow!" a voice called out from behind me, breaking me from my hypnotic state.
I jumped up, nearly knocking the piano bench over. I could have sworn it was my father standing behind me, but it was just the music teacher.
"I'm sorry. I was just playing around." I stammered, trying to rush off of the stage.
The music teacher raised his hand, signaling me to stay up on the stage.
"No, it's okay. You're really good! Where did you learn how to play like that?" he asked.
I hesitated to tell him that my father taught me. It felt tainted. It felt dirty.
"Just someone I used to know taught me." I softly answered.
As I stepped down form the stage, the teacher approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Montgomery. He continued to compliment me on my playing and questioned me about my musical background. I answered his questions as best as I could but I never told him about my father. I mean what was I supposed to say? "Yeah I'm good because every time I'd miss a note I'd get the crap beat of of me."
Mr. Montgomery was a nice man. He seemed astonished when I told him that it had been nearly a year since I had last played. After having me play a few more songs, both ear and by reading notes, Mr. Montgomery began to tell me about a school called Dellamoore Academy for the Preforming Arts. As soon as he suggested it, I quickly shot down the idea. When I left home, I left school too, meaning I didn't have my diploma. However, that didn't stop Mr. Montgomery.
From that day on, he did everything he could to help me get my diploma and to get into Dellamoore. He and the other teachers studied with me for hours after my work shift ended and by the time I was 19 I had my diploma. The second I got it I applied, auditioned, and got accepted into Dellamoore. Mr Montgomery was so proud of me, but I wasn't proud of myself. The only reason I went to Dellamoore was for the grants and loans. I had no interest in become some musical prodigy. In order to receive my grants and loans I had to stay in school for at least three months and I had to make good grades. After that three months I was going to leave. The second I got my check, I would be off to California. However, when the three months ended, I couldn't do it. Not only did I not want to disappoint Mr. Montgomery but I also actually enjoyed the school and everything I was learning. It felt good to learn and not be afraid if I messed up. I hadn't seen my father in years and I didn't have any desire to. Still, part of me wanted to see my him just so I could say, "Look at me now."
Four years later, I graduated and one year after that I moved to Seattle, met the most amazing man, and started teaching music at a school for Performing Arts. I even spent a few years in Japan learning from the best of the best. Life went so fast and I was enjoying every split second of it. It seemed like yesterday I was struggling to play the piano without thinking about my father and now I teach others how to play. I don't stop for even a second to think about my father sitting next to me, yelling with a strong stench of alcohol coming from his breath. It had been so long since the last time I had talked to him. Those memories were dead and buried to me, that is until one night.
I was preparing the next days lesson and all of a sudden a cold chill came over me. It was like a ghost had passed through me and took some of my energy as it left my soul. The phone began to ring. I just sat and stared at it like a deer caught in the head lights. After four rings my fiance picked it up and looked back at me. I continued to stare, hoping it was a wrong number and all I was feeling was just sickness coming on. That idea was lost when my fiance looked back at me with confusion written all over his face.
"It's your sister." he whispered. "I didn't know you had a sister."
I jumped out of my seat and grabbed the phone.
"Corine?" I said sounding like I a 16 year old again.
"Hey, Sammy! Long time huh? Who's the guy?" Corine asked with a shaky voice.
"Corine, what's wrong?" I asked.
(To Be Continued)
I got a job at a school in the cafeteria so that my friend and I could split the rent in our tiny studio apartment. It wasn't the best job, but it kept a roof over my head. More importantly it kept me as far away as possible from my dad. I tried my hardest to keep him out of my thoughts. He wasn't a good memory. Thoughts of him only brought up anger in me. However, one day, while I was at work, a memory of him came to me and ended up changing my life forever.
On a cold, rainy day I decided to take the custodians up on their offer and help clean up inside of the school where I worked, instead of load and unload boxes of food from the trucks outside. As I walked down the hall, dragging a big trash can behind me, I came across the music room. It was filled with so many different instruments, some of them I had never even seen before. The one that caught my eye was the big baby grand piano up on the stage. I walked up to the stage, almost as if I were hypnotized. I just wanted to get a closer look, but I find myself being draw to play it.
I walked up the steps and slowly sat down at the keys. For a long time after I left home, I would get these urges to play the piano, however, soon after I would remember my father and that urge would go away. Still, whether he were there or not, I wanted to know if I could play. So, I placed my hands on the keys and it just felt right. The keys, made of spruce, felt like silk under my fingers. Without even having to think about it, I began to play, No particular place to go. I got lost in the song! I played louder and stronger than I ever have. It felt so good to play again. It almost felt like I was breathing for the first time.
"Wow!" a voice called out from behind me, breaking me from my hypnotic state.
I jumped up, nearly knocking the piano bench over. I could have sworn it was my father standing behind me, but it was just the music teacher.
"I'm sorry. I was just playing around." I stammered, trying to rush off of the stage.
The music teacher raised his hand, signaling me to stay up on the stage.
"No, it's okay. You're really good! Where did you learn how to play like that?" he asked.
I hesitated to tell him that my father taught me. It felt tainted. It felt dirty.
"Just someone I used to know taught me." I softly answered.
As I stepped down form the stage, the teacher approached me and introduced himself as Mr. Montgomery. He continued to compliment me on my playing and questioned me about my musical background. I answered his questions as best as I could but I never told him about my father. I mean what was I supposed to say? "Yeah I'm good because every time I'd miss a note I'd get the crap beat of of me."
Mr. Montgomery was a nice man. He seemed astonished when I told him that it had been nearly a year since I had last played. After having me play a few more songs, both ear and by reading notes, Mr. Montgomery began to tell me about a school called Dellamoore Academy for the Preforming Arts. As soon as he suggested it, I quickly shot down the idea. When I left home, I left school too, meaning I didn't have my diploma. However, that didn't stop Mr. Montgomery.
From that day on, he did everything he could to help me get my diploma and to get into Dellamoore. He and the other teachers studied with me for hours after my work shift ended and by the time I was 19 I had my diploma. The second I got it I applied, auditioned, and got accepted into Dellamoore. Mr Montgomery was so proud of me, but I wasn't proud of myself. The only reason I went to Dellamoore was for the grants and loans. I had no interest in become some musical prodigy. In order to receive my grants and loans I had to stay in school for at least three months and I had to make good grades. After that three months I was going to leave. The second I got my check, I would be off to California. However, when the three months ended, I couldn't do it. Not only did I not want to disappoint Mr. Montgomery but I also actually enjoyed the school and everything I was learning. It felt good to learn and not be afraid if I messed up. I hadn't seen my father in years and I didn't have any desire to. Still, part of me wanted to see my him just so I could say, "Look at me now."
Four years later, I graduated and one year after that I moved to Seattle, met the most amazing man, and started teaching music at a school for Performing Arts. I even spent a few years in Japan learning from the best of the best. Life went so fast and I was enjoying every split second of it. It seemed like yesterday I was struggling to play the piano without thinking about my father and now I teach others how to play. I don't stop for even a second to think about my father sitting next to me, yelling with a strong stench of alcohol coming from his breath. It had been so long since the last time I had talked to him. Those memories were dead and buried to me, that is until one night.
I was preparing the next days lesson and all of a sudden a cold chill came over me. It was like a ghost had passed through me and took some of my energy as it left my soul. The phone began to ring. I just sat and stared at it like a deer caught in the head lights. After four rings my fiance picked it up and looked back at me. I continued to stare, hoping it was a wrong number and all I was feeling was just sickness coming on. That idea was lost when my fiance looked back at me with confusion written all over his face.
"It's your sister." he whispered. "I didn't know you had a sister."
I jumped out of my seat and grabbed the phone.
"Corine?" I said sounding like I a 16 year old again.
"Hey, Sammy! Long time huh? Who's the guy?" Corine asked with a shaky voice.
"Corine, what's wrong?" I asked.
(To Be Continued)
Copyright © 2012 by April Thompson
All
rights reserved. No part of this writing may be used or reproduced in
any manner whatsoever without written permission from the Author.
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