I step inside a room I’ve been in millions of times. I know that taking two steps to my right would bring me to my desk and 3 to my left would be my bed. It’s been like that for years. I take a step in front of me and my toes land on the soft fur of my carpet. Is it sad if I say I don’t know what colour it is?
I take another step to my left and let myself fall on what I know is my bed. I hear a soft meow and reach out to stroke my cat. I didn’t know he was there. I called him Snowball, even if my mom told me he was orange. I wasn’t going to change his name now after so many years.
I roll over onto my side to cradle Snowball in my arms. He squirms and tries to get out of my arms. I place my hand where I think his head is, but I touch his back instead. I can feel his spine through the thickness of his fur. One of his paws reaches up to push against my chin. He’s able to escape.
I can hear his soft footfall as he walks out of my room. When I hear a bark, I know that Snowball won’t react to my big golden retriever. I call out my dog’s name, Zayn, and he comes into my room, trotting happily.
“Come on, boy!” I say “let’s go for a walk!” he seems to understand every word I say. The veterinaries said that he was an extremely smart dog, but I guess golden retrievers are usually, and Zayn’s just special.
I grab Zayn’s leash where I know that it is always there. It’s rigid and short, but I can pull it out longer if I want to, and I do. He has to keep it on all day, just for me.
It takes me a couple seconds to find my sunglasses, which are always on my desk when I’m not wearing them. We walk down the street, with Zayn in the lead. I always keep a tight grip on his leash, because I’m always nervous outside.
Zayn is a very good dog. He won’t bark unless he has to warn me of something (or, sometimes, he just wants to annoy Snowball) and he won’t chase anything. Suddenly, he stops, so I stop. I can sense him staring at something and he tenses up. Someone is probably watching me, but I’m used to it by now, so I urge him on. He continues. Our daily routine is usually the same.
We come home an hour later to find my mom cooking dinner. It smells delicious. I replace Zayn’s leash so it’s comfortable enough for him to walk around and sit. My mom always takes it off of him when she knows that I won’t need him anymore for him to be able to lie down and sleep.
I place a hand on the wall to follow it into the kitchen. I live only with my mom because my father left us when he thought that it was too difficult to take care of me. He left about twelve years ago, that jerk! I’m fourteen so I don’t remember him at all, so maybe he was actually nice, I don’t know. My mom never talks about him.
The supper is ready when I sit at the dinner table with my mom. We eat the fish sticks on rice and green beans while talking about our day. My mom works at home on the computer all day. It’s her job, but I don’t really understand it. I have a tutor that teaches me everything I would learn at school. I’m homeschooled because it would be too complicated for me to go to school with tons of other kids I wouldn’t be able to see.
I’m learning slope now. It’s hard because I can’t work with paper, but I can memorize equations and she can tell me numbers for me to calculate in my head. My tutor’s name is Annie and she keeps telling me I’m super smart. I’m not so sure if she’s right; I just work with what I have.
After we finish supper, I ask my mom if she can teach me another song on the piano. I absolutely love music, sometimes it feels like it’s my only reason to live, but then I remember my mom, Zayn, Snowball and Annie and see that there’s nothing worth losing and I’m happy again.
My mom’s too busy to teach me another song because she still needs to finish her work, but she promises me that she’ll listen to me play the whole time. It’s the best I can get so I move on to place myself on the bench of the piano.
I play the song I know best, Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major. It’s a beautiful song often played at weddings. I barely need to think about what keys I play because they come to me easily. My hands stretch to reach the notes perfectly. I do make a couple mistakes, but it’s not a big deal, it’s not like I’ll ever be able to play at a wedding, anyways.