grasping onto something i cannot see

eighteen

it wasn't long before christmas came to an end. the day of, phil and i spent in our pajamas again watching crappy reality tv. it was a very stormy day in florida, but it almost made it more cozy and cheerful indoors.

the day after christmas, it was time to go. before we left for good, however, i hugged phil's parents and thanked them for making me feel loved. they hugged me back in a pitiful way, but i almost didn't mind.

"i swear to god, if this plane ride is anything like the first, i'll kill myself," i said.

"no you won't," phil replied, giggling.

"can't i just play the 'poor blind kid' card and see if we can get first class? you can pretend to be my full-time caregiver."

"wow, dan, you always know what to say to turn me on."

"shut up!"

the flight was decent, because i actually sat beside phil, but we just slept the entire time. jet lag is a biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitch.

it felt so nice to walk back into my apartment. maggie ran right to her bed, and i hugged my gram goodbye. then, phil and i slumped onto the couch, my head in his lap as he stroked my curls.

"so, you ready to have kids yet?"

"maybe not today."

"tomorrow?"

"sure."

phil laughed after this exchange. "i've only known you for a little more than a month. how could i have only known you for that short of time, yet be so in love with you? it doesn't make any sense, but, at the same time, makes perfect sense."

"it does, phil. it makes perfect sense. i'd marry you tomorrow."

"don't tempt me howell," phil said, yawning and stretching a bit. "play something for me on the piano."

"what?"

"i want to hear you play."

"phil, i'm really not that goo--"

"please?" i couldn't say no to that voice.

"alright, fine, but don't be thinking i'm mozart or chopin or some shit because they weren't blind."

i felt phil roll his eyes again. call it my fifth sense.

we walked into my bedroom, and i sat on the bench, cracking my knuckles and finding the right keys to start on.

and then, i began to play.

i felt like my hands were moving on their own and i was just floating above them. i heard phil gasp, maybe in astonishment or at the fact that i was even worse than what i told him. but in that moment, i didn't care.

i felt free. i felt like i was seeing the world through the music coming from my fingertips and it was beautiful, just like phil had said. i felt liberated and wonderful--

and then the song ended. and phil was crying again.

"listen, okay, i'm not trying to be dramatic--"

"PHIL, YOU ARE LITERALLY CRYING--"

"but that was the most beautiful thing i have ever heard--"

"IT WAS JUST A SONG ON THE PIANO--"

"and i mean, i saw celine dion in concert one time and i thought my wig was snatched then but NOW--"

"phil!!!" i finally got his attention. i reached up, and wiped the tears from his eyes. "was i really not bad?"

"dan, your hands are magical. you are such a beautiful human being. i could hear you play those notes for the rest of my life."

"prove it," i said, hugging him so hard i accidentally tackled him onto my bed. we started kissing, but he broke it off.

"listen, i love you, and you're a hot piece of ass, but it's 4am here and i think we need some sleep."

"you're no fun," i teased.

"i will be when i've gotten sleep," he replied. before i could even respond, he had wrapped his arms around my waist and we both drifted off.