She plays the piano. Every key she presses describes the inner pain she's suffering from. One day, she decides to get up and leave everything behind, even the songs she's written from those black and white keys.
Her house goes on the market and an...
PLAY THE SONG IN MM BEFORE OR WHILE READING THE CHAPTER.
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No one knew her. She stayed to herself. They said that she was a wealthy woman because of how she carried herself and the car she drove. Her white neighbors said she was black with long hair. Her black neighbors said she had caramel skin, long permed hair, and was about 5'5 in height and about 120 lbs.
She never attended neighborhood meetings and gatherings. She would just go to work, run errands, and then come back home to play her piano. One neighborhood stated that she was giving out free furniture to exchange it with the ones that is currently in her home. "I saw her getting dropped off by an Uber the same day she drove off with her car. I wanted to ask her what's wrong, but I didn't want to butt in," One person said.
"I hope she's ok. She was such a beautiful woman. I never spoke to her, but you can see the beauty. She didn't really speak to anyone. One day, I saw her exchanging pianos." Another says to him
Nick didn't get a name because no one knew it. Her skin complexion and hair texture wouldn't help him find the person because there are a ton of black woman with the same features. She left nothing behind for him to find out who she is. No matter how many questions he asked, it was cut short with him saying thank you after getting a nope as the answer.
He thinks no one really cared about her. Since she isolated herself from the neighborhood, no one bothered to reach out. She kept her door shut and that was a sign for people to leave her alone. He cannot blame them, but he does wish that they just knew her name.
He enters the beautiful home and locks the door behind him. He walks over to the kitchen to pour him a bottle of wine that he brought with him.
The home is in perfect condition, so he can rent it out of flip it as soon as possible but he decides to hold on to it. He takes a sip of his wine. "A wealthy black woman," he repeats those words to himself. He was aware of a lot of black women in this area. He was aware of a lot of wealthy black people since he loves working with black businesses and helping each other elevate. Of all the wealthy black people he knows, none of them left without a trace that he knows of, but he doesn't want to bring attention to something that might not even need other people's regard.At least, not now.
He knows it couldn't be one of his close friends because they check up on each other occasionally and hang out with one another every chance they get.
"Damn." He takes the last sip and then walks over to the piano and grabs the lyric book to search for a name, assuming that she must've slipped up and exposed it somewhere. All he needs is the first name and he will be able to finish the rest later, with the help of Google and LinkedIn.
He then he stops once he reads a chorus to a certain lyrics.
He scans the paper with his finger and feels the dried of up tears on the sheet. Her words has him appalled and questing what the heck went on in her life while she had all of these riches. After the set of lyrics, the steps to play the piano follows. Each note will instruct him how to play each song. It is well written and detailed. He opens the lid and uses the prop to hold its position. He pulls out the piano bench and sits on it. He lifts up the music rack and puts the book on top so he can follow each direction.
"I hope I know what I am doing." He puts his feet near the pedals and looks at the keys to find the first one she written. After doing so, he looks for the pedal she says to put her foot on. He presses the first key and a sweet melody comes out. His eyes goes back and forth from the book to the keys to locate them, but to his surprising, most of the keys were right next to each other.
Before he moves to the next line, he replays the first line 30 times to make sure he has it down. He doesn't sing the lyrics because he knows he doesn't have the voice, but he hums it, allowing him to feel what she has written.
"Damn." Was all he can say after he finishes the first line. He never knew playing the piano was tough. He was never in band growing up, and even if he was, he wouldn't play this particular instrument. He was just the person that loved rap, r&b, and soul music. He listened to it. Now, this woman has him feeling like the bootleg version Stevie Wonder.
As time goes on, he continues to learn how to play the musical instrument to these particular lyrics that has him asking who scarred her and do they kind of get better even though she ran away. Who broke her heart and why did it remain broken. He has had his heart broken before but he cannot really say if he felt the way she did just based off these words:
So when I'm weak, who do I call?
My God it hurts, I can't be calm
What do I do? Do I run?
Tired of hate, tired of love
I've dug my nails into my arms
She turned and left with all my scars
What is my worth? What is my worth?
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