Two Violins, One Love, BAE

Chapter 14 Locked out

Brett woke up with a start. He could see the streetlights shining through the curtains, and hear the noises of the city's nightlife down in the street below. He must have been asleep barely an hour.

He felt a cold shiver of sadness descend down his spine. He didn't even need to stretch out his arm. He could feel the emptiness in the room. He knew what he would find on the bed next to him: a cold mattress, a cold pillow, where Eddy should have been.

Did he change bedroom in the night because there were still two spares until the rest of the gang turned up? Or was he still so angry with Brett that he couldn't even share a mattress with him? Brett sat up, rubbed his face and looked for his glasses. And then he heard it. The faint sound of a violin from across the hallway. Eddy was practicing, con sord.

Brett decided that he would cheer up after all. It wasn't like him to dwell on a downer. This was fun, Eddy practicing in the middle of the night. He would surprise him. And he would do it with the camera, for the vlog. What a great idea. Brett started recording as he crept down the hallway.

"I just woke up..." he said to camera, "and Eddy's practicing. Let's see if we can scare him..." Brett reached the door and tried to turn the handle. It didn't budge. He looked at the camera. "He locked the door."

The locked door had startled him so much, he nearly dropped the camera. But he controlled himself, smiled, even managed some kind of strangled laughter before pressing stop.

The door was locked. Brett leaned against the wall.

Why was the door locked? And what was Eddy playing? Was it D♭? Double stops scale. Very slow. Patient. Thirds. Yes, it must be D♭ - F♭. No, F, major third. Then E♭ - G♭, then down again, leading tone C - E♭, and back to the root, D♭...

It wasn't even in minor so why was it so melancholic? His heart was breaking inside his chest. He tried to control his breathing. It's okay, he kept telling himself. I'm okay. It's cool.

The door was locked.

He was locked out again. Maybe Eddy was right. He was always on the outside. "But I'm not scared," he whispered to himself. Of course he wasn't.

But why was he always on the outside looking in? So many times, watching his zhīxīn sleep he'd wondered, who is he, and where is he. How deep within oneself can anyone be?

"I'm not scared," he said again, pressing his back against the wall. And something tugged inside him so bad that it took his breath away. He gasped for air and began to slide down the wall until he was crouching on the floor like a little ball, his knees against his chin. He pressed the palms of his hands against his face.

D♭- F

E♭ - G♭

F - A♭

and down again all the way to the leading tone, C - E♭... Brett waited for the turn, suspended, and when it landed on the root again his chest heaved so badly he had to press on his eyes harder to stop them from crying.

"I'm okay," he told himself.

Stars and flashes of light burst under his eyelids from the pressure of his hands, and he saw himself as if he stood by a silver river, staring into the water which moved brightly. There were people in there, all floating by, waving, talking, people who pass, people who live, love, die. But he was on the river bank, he was outside looking in.

They were from long ago, a time when all he had was his family. Before Eddy came into his life. Now he could see them in the river. His relatives. They live, they love, they die. But why isn't he inside, passing with them? Why on the outside looking in?

"I'm not even Australian," he whispered to himself. "Look at me. I'm Chinese." But am not that either, he thought, because we've been in exile for generations. We ended up in Taiwan where I was born, from China where we couldn't stay. Now in Australia. But we're always in exile.

F - A♭

G♭ - B♭

Yes, it's in D♭, I'm sure it is. I don't have Eddy's perfect pitch but...

There's a locked door, with people on the other side. They're talking on the inside but he's not included. They've locked him out. He's too small, and they're excluding him from their grief, but the grief is inside him too. Grown-ups, his family, they're supposed to raise him, but some die on him, and he's on the wrong side of the locked door.

In the sparkling river under his eyelids, there were people. They lived, they loved, they died. And he was on the outside, prevented from sharing their grief even though he shared their exile.

"I'm not scared," he said again, "I'm just... very sad." The words opened something in his chest and behind the hands that were hurting his eyes. He began to sob, silently, biting his lips and gasping for air until he felt so dizzy he couldn't cry anymore. He remained seated on the floor of the hallway, hugging his knees. In the silence he heard Eddy play the leading tone again, C - E♭, and he waited for the turn back to the root.