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Leati felt like he was standing at a crossroad.
Without his wife by his side to make major decisions when it comes to his kids, he felt like he had done everything wrong.
He liked to think that he made the right decisions, decisions he knows his love would have executed perfectly is she was still alive. But his daughter had nearly been indicted for murder and he wasn't sure if she was completely innocent.
His son is in a gang, and he has influenced his little sister and her kid friends to do the same.
He knows he's not mentally all the way there and he never claimed to be. But in the back of his mind, he can't help but feel like he could've been a better father along the way.
Like right now, he is questioning himself.
Laney sits unanimated at the sound mixing console Elias had installed in her bedroom. Her green egg chair sits completely still as she faces the device.
He knows she is on a completely different planet.
He remembers hanging that very same chair to the ceiling when she turned twelve and watching his baby girl swing about in it like she was on a playground. He remembers sitting at the foot of her bed as she spun in the wide chair.
Today, he sits at the foot of the bed and the back of the chair serves as a shield from her entangled body.
"Pepe," Leati hums, "you have been working on something new?" [baby]
She clears her throat letting out a scratchy "yes sir."
"You wanna play it for me faafitauli?" [bug]
"Okay."
The chair swings as she leans forward, he could see her dainty hands slide a few notches up and jam a few buttons and he admires her intelligence to work such machines at her young age, he doesn't think he's ever given her enough praise or credit for just how smart and talented she actually is.
She hasn't started the music yet but somehow; he knows that the piece is already great. His daughter is a musical genius. Both literally and metaphorically. She understands the engineering of that 7,000$ sound machine that he should've questioned when his son came home with it.
"It's different, um-" she speaks from in front of him. "I- it's not what you're used to, it's not like the beats I make for Elias."
"Okay," he hums, "Makes me want to hear it even more."
Finally, her hand shifts to the red button at the end of the console, "okay."
She presses play and turns in the chair to face him for the first time since he entered her room, in her hand she holds out her music journal. The page is already on display, the title reading "realizations from a quiet place." in her dainty cursive.
