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Bennett played the piano. He had played my piece—effortlessly. What other secrets would I learn about him? I should be so angry with him.
Zoey knew she wasn’t thinking clearly. Bennett honestly didn’t mean any harm. She was irrationally upset. Not only had he played one of her compositions, but he’d added to it. Brought it to a place she’d never been able to before. A happy place. One filled with joy and excitement. Neither of which I have been able to write.
She knew it wasn’t about not being able to write such music. It was a fear deep within her. Putting the notes on paper was acknowledging the wants and hopes within her. She hadn’t been ready to do so when she was a child. Even now it scared her.
Zoey closed the bench and started to leave the room. When she got to the entrance way, she stopped and turned back, looking at the bench. She couldn’t bring herself to leave. Like Bennett couldn’t un-see her sheets of music, Zoey couldn’t unhear what he played either. It echoed throughout her and pulled at her soul. Closing her eyes the melody flowed again until it was etched into her heart.
Returning to the piano, she removed the folder from the bench, pulled out the composition, and sat with it facing her. Her heart was racing as she stared at the keys. Although the music was now in her, was she ready to play it, to add the notes to paper? If she did, this would no longer be just hers, but theirs. Something created together. Like what we shared last night.
That was exactly how the music felt to her. As she heard it, it was like Bennett’s kisses, his strong, calloused hands on her skin, how she responded to him. The warmth he brought her to now, not only physically, but emotionally as well. Something I may never know again. Bennett may not come back, not in a physical sense. She knew she only had him for a moment. But musically, she could have that for a longer time.
Her fingers began to glide over the keys, each note pulling at her, bringing him to her mind. His beautiful blue eyes as he called her sweetheart and how tenderly he held her as they slept. This was no longer a song of emptiness, but one of finding what she’d been searching for. While the appassionato, the ardent emotion of the piece, was not directly notated, she knew at once that he cared for her deeply. Though Bennett was not with her, she felt his hands guiding her own, showing her what he saw when he looked at her. She choked back a sob. How can you see me with such purity, such beauty that I’m not sure is there?
Where his notes ceased, hers began anew, not returning to where she’d started. Tears ran down her cheeks as she let her fingers be her writing instrument and the keys her paper. Holding nothing back, she played what she might never be able to say or express to Bennett in person. Every want and desire that flowed through her, her fears and insecurities rising to the top. But her hands returned to the steady, constant beat Bennett had created. Love.
She was falling in love with him. From his notes, she knew he cared for her as well. Exactly how much she wasn’t sure. But no matter what they were facing, she didn’t believe he had walked out for good. He’d only respected her wishes. And I love him even more for that. For understanding that I needed my space. I had to... process. How does he know what I need so well? More than I think I know myself sometimes.
Zoey pulled out a pencil and added not just what he wrote, but what she had just added as well. She smiled as she looked at it. It wasn’t complete without a title. None of her compositions have ever made it this far. Maybe I’ll save that for when I’m ready to let him play it again. Will we play it together one day?
How she wished she was like other women, able to express herself without fear of rejection. For now she’d keep her folder hidden. One day that might change, but now her hands trembled, thinking about letting him into her life so completely. I need to tell him I’m sorry. I’m broken and can’t be fixed. Not even by someone as loving and strong as he is.
