The Piano

It was winter. The room was dry and cool. That one tiny window in her apartment was opened, letting in breezes of the crisp air outside. The sound of New York City bustling. The old wallpaper had already begun to peel at its corners. The low sun shone in through the window and created a daze of orange light. She stared at it. Her eyes watching it, peeking up from the top of her laptop screen. The sun reflecting off of it. The black piano.

It was upright; its white and black keys relaxed. Quiet. Like it was in its own world. A bubble. Tuning out the rest of the world. Focusing. A layer of dust had formed on it years ago. A vase full of dead orchids sat on top. A song book on its music rack. 

The longer she stared, the more she remembered. 

“Nance, calm down. Don’t get so worked up over a piano. Let the music take control of your movements. Be gentle, yet firm. Feel the music.”

Her mothers words once relaxed her. She played. She could feel the music all around her. Inside of that bubble, nothing could break her focus. It tuned out the world.

Nancy despised the piano. She used to play every evening with her mother by her side. She played at concerts. She was even in a band. She was proud of herself. So was her mother. She faintly remembered the countless nights where she would close her eyes. She would take a deep breath. She would play. No notes. No melody. No rhythm. No metronome. Just her and the piano. She mostly remembered the ones with her mother. The warm apartment. The laughter. The beautiful music. The way her mother played, treating the piano as gently as you would if you were braiding a little girl’s hair. Trying hard not to hurt it.

The longer she stared, the more agitated she became. She felt a horrible headache coming on. She took some Advil, closed her laptop, and went out for work. 

She marched through the snow like she was trekking a mountain. 

Nancy was working the late shift at the convenience store that night. She walked in. The tiny bell hanging above the door rang. She unzipped her winter coat, and waited patiently at the checkout counter. She tapped on it like she was playing a little song. She stopped. 

Hardly anyone came into the store late at night. The time was now 11:00 pm. Her shift was over, at last. On the walk back to her apartment, she thought about her life. As she walked through the snow, and stared up at the moon, which hung just below the trees in central park, she thought some more. She thought about how happy her little life would be if it weren’t for that stupid piano. Always bothering her. Always making her think until her head hurts. Always reminding her. Reminding her of those times. Happy times. When her mother was around. 

She stopped at her apartment. She pulled her silver key out of her purse, and unlocked the door. Weird. It was open. She must have forgotten to lock it. Nancy kicked off her off white shoes, and plopped onto her gray sofa. She opened her laptop. She felt warm and safe inside. She stared out the window next. The way New York City reflected off the pale moonlight. The stars shined with pride. Some twinkled. Some stayed still. Quiet.

Quiet. The word. It reminded her of the piano, in its own world. Her eyes flicked to look over at it. She stopped. Her heart stopped. Skipped a beat. 

She took a breath. It turned to a gasp. The piano. It was gone.

Nancy stared at the empty space where it once was, soaking in the dim light of the moon. She closed her laptop. Her hands were shaking. She realized, straight away, what had just happened. Just as she wished. The piano was gone. Out of her life. Now, alas, she could be happy. Live her happy little life without a stupid piano to bother her every second of everyday. She felt … good. Happy.

She woke up the next day. She worked the morning shift. She felt like skipping. She arrived at the convenience store. The tiny bell rang. It made her smile. Her manager was there. He stopped her as she was on her way over to her checkout counter. He handed her a new name tag. It read: Nancy - Assistant Manager. He thanked her for her devotement to her job, and said she deserves a bump up. 

After her shift, it was around 2:00 pm. She decided to stop by central park and feed the birds. Nancy would never do this, but today, she was feeling like it. 

When she finally got back to her apartment, she unlocked the door, and sat down on her sofa. She stared at the empty space again. She rolled her eyes, and did some work on her laptop.

Days went by. Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. She had just gotten home from a shift. As usual, she sat down, and worked on her laptop. There was something different about that day. She stared at the empty space. This time, she didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t look away. She kept staring. She closed her eyes. 

“Mommy?”

“Yes darling?”

“How are you so good at the piano?”

“Sweetheart. I need you to understand something. You cannot be either good nor bad at something in your life. In fact, life cannot be either good nor bad. Life is life. It will always be. There is no such thing as the perfect life. There is no such thing as a happy life. There is only life. That’s it. But, there are things that make our lives worth living. There are things in this world that can make us happy. Our lives, nor our situations will ever be perfect or completely happy. There are things, darling, that make us happy. Maybe it's reading. Maybe it’s a sport. Maybe it’s piano. You see, it is not our lives that make us happy, it's the things in it. Something that you despise does not make you incomplete. It’s just part of your life. Your life will always go on, with or without that thing. But it’s that thing. That thing might just make you complete if you give it the chance. And once it’s gone, well, it’ll be the only thing that you will ever love, my dear.”