“You never apologize. It feels weird.”
“Well, I’m not an asshole. And I wasn’t criticizing you, just wondering how that worked. I imagine it’s hard having gay friends and wanting to fuck them. But I’m a novice, so what do I know?”
He squeezed the back of my neck. “It’s fine. I’m just very thankful for the few friends I have. If you want, we will talk about it later, okay?”
I nodded. “Can we check out the rest of the store?”
“Yeah. There is a toy store a few floors up. We could check out the clearance section in the men’s department and see if we can score you some clothes.”
I said nothing as we made our way up the escalators. I didn’t like him spending money on me, but I did need some more clothes. The department store was very nice and very classy and made me feel even worse about my situation. Even as a kid, I could recognize my privilege and lamenting my life made me feel bad, because there were a lot of people that had it worse. All the light of this place and the smiles made me long for happiness.
We ended up scoring a new pair of jeans and a few shirts for me that were marked down.
“Stop fretting over me buying you something. I can tell it’s bothering you. If you want, you can repay me with blow jobs,” he said against my ear as we took the escalator another level up.
“So, is that how it is at your age? You have to buy blowjobs?”
He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and got a little closer so that his breath brushed across my jaw. “I don’t have to buy one from you. I know you’ve been thinking about my dick in your mouth.”
I tugged my jacket down over the bulge in my pants and he chuckled. God, I just wanted to…kiss him to death or something. He was so infuriating sometimes, but in a way that made my insides bounce with excitement.
We floated around in the toy store for a while. Sean was adorable as he played with action figure displays, his eyes wrinkling in the corners as he smiled. I’d never had much in the way of toys, so the appeal was lost on me. I didn’t want to ruin the moment and tell him I wasn’t allowed toys like this butI couldn’t help enjoying watching him entertain himself like a child.
I felt the music first in my gut like a warm jolt before I heard it with my ears. It was faint and for a long moment I thought it was coming from within me, a kind of phantom tingle.
I inched toward the escalator that opened into the top floor, the notes becoming clearer, sharper. Glancing at Sean who was entranced with the action figures, I figured he’d be okay for a few minutes by himself. I quickly found myself on the escalator, my heart accelerating as the chords became crisp, like a ray of sunshine punching through storm clouds. The top floor was a restaurant of sorts, packed to the gills with a Christmas tree in the middle.
The source of the music was a beautiful grand piano next to the tree, an elderly gentleman dressed in a black tux plucking away. The piece was a lento of a modern tune, a song from a movie, perhaps and meant to be in the background. I watched the pianist for a long moment, playing as if this was more a job for him than passion. When the piece ended, he got up and disappeared toward the back of the restaurant, likely to take a break.
It got hard to breathe and my fingertips itched as I slipped under the velvet ropes encircling the restaurant and passed the hostess busy informing a couple there were no open tables. I was a passenger now, unable to help myself, my body moving of its own accord.
The piano was a Bosendorfer 200 with an ebony polish that reflected the colorful lights of the tree. I pushed past the heart palpitations and took a seat on the sturdy stool. Running my fingers over the spruce-wood keys, a rush of emotion tightened my sinuses. I looked around at the people enjoying a nice dinner in cocktail wear, knowing it was a miracle I hadn’t been tossed out yet.God provides, I heard my father’s voice.
I played a few of my favorite chords to get the feel of the instrument, the tuning sounding near perfect to my ears. I noted a few heads turning in my direction, likely wondering about the bum messing with the piano. A waiter leaned into another and whispered something along the lines of–should we call security?
I quickly switched to Chopin’s“Waltz in C Sharp Minor”, a simple piece but perfect for a classy setting like this. As the notes spread out and penetrated my body with minute vibrations, I wanted to cry. My life had no meaning if I couldn’t play and share the music I’d been born with. How I’d survived the past three years without being able to play was a miracle.
The keyboard at my fingertips matched the keyboard in my mind and I played with closed eyes, the color behind my lids tuned to the notes. Every hit of the hammer against the string, every sweet note tapping my heart. Even after all this time, I could hear Nana’s voice telling me:you have a gift, Miho. And God doesn’t hand out gifts quieras o no.
I transitioned into “La Campanella”, my heart singing as my fingers fell against the keys effortlessly. I’d been a weird kid, focusing on the hardest compositions because I thought if I could master some of the most difficult technical pieces ever crafted, I could master anything. Even after years away, the notes flowed.
A man and a woman came to dance near me, and I nodded to them, aware I had an audience, but I couldn’t stop. I needed to let the music out that had been building for three years.
Playing was a dance of sorts as I moved my hands and fingers across the keyboard, hitting the notes, the sounds moving me. As I got deep into the piece, I let loose and absorbed every chord, every note and beat of my heart until I couldn’t tellthe difference between the music of my body and the music of the piano.
This was happiness, pure and undiluted by the terrible things in the world. As I played, I got a whiff of a familiar scent, as if Nana were still with me.
Let your music out and don’t ever let anyone take it from you.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SEAN
One moment I was playing with action figures, the next I was looking for Matteo.
I searched the isles but came up empty so I took the escalator up to the fourth floor where the Walnut Room was located, figuring he’d got distracted by the sights and sounds.
The Christmas tree was still taking up a chunk of space in the center of the Walnut Room, its lights casting splashes of color against the intricate wood paneling of the high ceiling. Someone was playing the hell out of a piano, several people holding their phones up to record while a couple danced, the woman’s red dress flowing as her partner twirled her.
