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I rise in one swift motion, and my mouth drops ajar as I gaze at the man sitting behind the grand, white instrument. Overwhelmed, I keep staring.
Where am I?
He pats the space next to him. "Come sit with me."
I don't question him and lift myself from the silver couch I'm lying on. With straightforward strides, I move through the space that oozes tranquility. The notes coming from the piano are transcending, but they stop once I've closed the distance between us. The moment he gazes at me and smiles, the words come flowing out of my mouth.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry I walked away that night."
My father shakes his head. "If anyone should say sorry, it's me. It's time you hear the truth. Your mother and I made mistakes in parenting. We were too focused on your gift and forgot you were our dear son, who wanted his parents' love and attention. Carmen was the one who noticed you were becoming unhappy with playing the piano and the pressure I put on you. She confronted me, and we had many heated discussions where she warned me that if I didn't stop pressuring you, you would rebel against me one day. But I was stubborn, and said that it was just a phase you were going through."
I sit and remain quiet as my brain tries to grasp what he's saying. But my thoughts reach him anyway. "Your mother never told you this because she didn't want you to hate me," he continues, as the note of a single key being pressed resonates through the room. "To get my way, I put my wife in an impossible position by using our powerful love against her. I said that if she didn't support my dreams, she should leave. But if she did, I'd fight her to keep you with me." He slowly shakes his head. "God, I turned into an obsessive, selfish bastard after my wrist injury, and I'll regret it forever."
He rests his hands on his lap. "Your mom made mistakes, Cole, but she loves you. She always has and always will." He pats me on the leg. It's been too long since I heard that magical sound."
I let out a deep breath as I stare at the music stand.
My dad leans sideways and whispers, "Look at me, son." When our matching blue eyes connect, he speaks. "Cole, you're not accountable for my death; you never were. It was simply my time." His words combined with the sincerity in his voice melts the giant iceberg of guilt that I've carried with me for so long.
"Never, ever think you shouldn't play because of me and what happened. Even if you never perform for a crowd, at least play for yourself. And know I'm goddamn proud of the man you've become. I love you, son."
These are the words I needed to hear. My hands descend, and the pads of my fingers tingle with elation as they press and release, and I can sense the smile on my father's face as I perform from the essence of my being. Music surrounds us, and I embrace the freedom of creating melodies and reconnecting with the part of me I thought I lost. Playing with and from my heart and soul is ridiculously liberating, and I close my eyes to enjoy this moment as it seeps back into every fiber and cell of my body.
* * *
"When will he wake?"
"When he's ready, sweetheart."
"I miss him."
My daughter's soft voice, filled with sadness, gets my attention. My eyelids slowly part, and I blink when seeing a plain white ceiling.
What happened? Where is my father?
I push these questions into the background and raise my head to discover I'm not behind a piano anymore, but lying in a hospital bed. Sam is hunched forward, touching my arm while sitting on one of those solid wooden chairs that numb your ass after a while. The moment I move, she shoots up straight and gazes at me with her beautiful blue spheres.
"Hey, sweetheart."
Teary-eyed, she lifts herself and carefully hugs me—her fresh apple shampoo infiltrating my nose.
"Dad! I-I missed y-you so much. I-I thought I lost you too." When her head comes up and our eyes meet, I speak.
"Sam, I'll always do my best to come back to you."
My head turns to the nurse with raven black hair.
"Welcome back, Mr. Walker. How are you feeling?"
The three of us glance at the door as it opens. Brian and Bella appear and smile as they come our way. Samantha sits back in the armchair as Brian stops next to the bed. He taps my leg. "Glad you're back, my friend."
Without warning, the image of her, bleeding in my arms, fills my head while the tone of her flatline rings loud in my ears.
The nurse inspects the heart monitor that goes crazy.
"Alex!" I stammer. "Where is she?"
Samantha grabs my fist. "Dad, she..."
