The Song

Part Eleven

"I'm going to go to bed," I said quietly after about an hour and a half of sitting with Aston in front of the TV. It was still rather early, but the situation was so awkward. And my brain hurt.

"Sure, do you need help?" Aston asked.

"I'll be ok," I said, "Thanks."

"No worries," he said, smiling softly, "Just shout if you do need something."

"Ok... night."

"Night Jess."

I carefully stood up from the sofa and shuffled my way through the house and up the stairs. Aston had put some of my things in the hall bathroom and as best I could with a broken arm, I got myself ready for bed.

When I was done I slipped into my old iron-framed bed, flicking out the bedside light and laying on my back. My eyes were trained on the ceiling and as hard as I tried I couldn't shut them. My brain was spinning at a million miles a minute, too much going on for it to shutdown.

"What the hell happened?" I mumbled, twisting in bed and trying to find a comfortable position. It was hard with the cast and soon I was back on my back, my brain still going.

I tried to think about Aston, place him in my memory, but I couldn't do it. He seemed so sweet and genuine, and I had no idea why he would want to be with me. Had I done something to get his attention? Were we set up by a mutual friend? Or was it just chance?

After almost two hours of trying to figure things out, to no avail, I slipped out of bed. I wasn't tired at all and I thought some warm milk might help me out.

Quietly I wandered down the stairs. The lights were out so Aston must have gone to bed, and I could faintly hear the hum of a television coming from the master bedroom.

In the kitchen I opened cupboards until I found some mugs and then I heated up some milk, looking around to see if I could spot anything familiar. Nothing.

With my milk I did a little wander of the downstairs, looking at more pictures of Aston and I on the walls and the other awards and accolades that were on display. Most of them were Aston's, but here and there were little plaques with my name on it.

"Composition awards?" I mumbled, surprised at what I was seeing. I'd always dreamed of composing, but never thought I'd come up with anything good. Apparently I was wrong.

I made it round to the back of the house, noticing a door I hadn't seen earlier. It was glass with some simple curtains on it. I wasn't sure if it lead outside or to another room, and for some reason I was nervous about opening the door.

"Go on," a voice whispered from behind me.

"Oh!" I said, startled by Aston's sudden appearance.

"I heard you shuffling around."

"I didn't mean to wake you," I said.

"I was still up, don't worry."

"Right."

"Go in," he repeated, taking my mug from my hands and setting it on a side table.

Gently I pushed the door open, another room in front of me. Its walls were glass, kind of like a conservatory, but it seemd warmer and more comfortable. Like I could spend time out here all year round.

Aston flicked the light on so we could see, "This is sort of your room."

"I see that," I replied, spotting the grand piano perched right in the middle of the room. There was a shelf with music books on and a small desk with a laptop. A collection of plants lined the window sills, but they all looked in various stages of disarray.

"Haven't had a chance to water them," Aston said, "Been more worried about you."

"S'ok."

"You work in here," he explained as I made myself to the middle of the room. "Sometimes it's hard to get you to come out."

"Wait..." I said, "Is that..."

"You recognize the piano?" Aston asked with a hopeful look.

Without a word I wandered over to it, sitting down carefully on the beautiful, polished bench and putting my good fingers on the keys.

"Yeah. From it's the one from the shop. I love this piano."