Carnival Souls

The River Cantus

A small smile lifted the corners of Owen's mouth and his brown eyes seemed to be focused on something far away.

"Ethan is the simplest and most complex person to describe."

"What do you mean?"

"He's autistic. When you tell people that most of them already have some preconceived idea about what he is like. Maybe it's not fair to sum him up in one word, but it's simple. For the people who don't really care, or who I don't care to know—I leave it at that."

Lira contemplated this, wondering if Owen would care if she knew."So, what's the complicated version?"

Owen let out a long breath, still looking at the sky. "Most people assume Ethan is difficult—which he can be. But anyone would be difficult if they didn't know how to communicate..." Owen sighed and shook his head. His brow furrowed as he thought over his words. "But when I look at him, I see a little boy who loves trains, who spends hours creating new tracks. I think he likes the predictability—trains don't ever leave their tracks so he always knows where they are going. Sometimes, I like that idea too. Of knowing what's coming next..."

A wide smile suddenly split Owen's face. "I see a kid who loves tater-tots. You should see his face when I bring them out on Fridays. And I see a little brother who likes to listen to his older brother's stories...I think that's my favorite. Coming home and sitting on the couch with him and telling him about my day.

"He doesn't understand everything, but you can see he wants to, and for a few minutes I'm his whole focus. And I think to myself I wouldn't trade him for anything. Because without him, I wouldn't be me."

"Your brother is lucky to have you," said Lira. Would her own sibling would care as fiercely about her as Owen did for Ethan?

"What about you?" Owen asked. He picked up his own river stone, this one purple.

"It's just me and my parents," Lira said, staring out at the point where the sky melted into the land. "It can be lonely...being an only child."

"And your music? They must be proud of you. I don't think I've heard anyone play like you do."

Lira smirked. The words were so familiar they had all but lost their meaning. "Heard very many violin players, have you?" She waved away Owen's protests before he could voice them. "I'm sorry. Mom always said I was ungenerous with praise. Yes, my parents couldn't be prouder."

Thinking about the long hours of practice, the dozens of recitals, her parents excited chatter about the prospects of her future, she felt the weight that had been conspicuously absent for a while settle back on her shoulders. When she was younger, she had found it exciting, had considered the possibility that may be she was special like her parents said. But if that was true, then being special was also the reason kids picked on her, why she was never invited to birthday parties, why she could count on one hand the number of people who talked to her, why she could not name one close friend. And why she felt that if she could not live up to her parents' expectations, she would surely crack from the pressure.

If she went home tomorrow, a year from now, isn't that what she would be returning to? A life so empty that even music couldn't fill it? Maybe she was being dramatic, but at times the isolation had nearly consumed her whole.

Lira turned the rock over in her hand. "The night I was taken, I was going to tell my parents that I wanted to quit the violin," she admitted softly.

Owen turned to look at her. "Why would you do that?"

"Because I didn't love it anymore Because I couldn't get away. Because I had begun to hate the thing that made me...me."

Owen nodded as if this made perfect sense and turned back to study the river. For several minutes, the water took over conversation, gurgling along the banks, the long grasses trailing over the edge whistling softly over the surface.

"Things will be different when we go back," said Lira. "They have to be." She threw her stone out into the river where it dropped into the water with a melodic plop. Lira perked up in surprise, ears straining as the sound faded away. "Did you hear that?" she asked.

Owen glanced from the rapidly dispersing ripples to Lira as though it was a trick question. "Um...yes?"

She pointed to his stone. "Throw it in the water."

Owen, still looking confused, obliged and dropped his rock in the river. Again, a long note emitted from the stone as it sank, though it was different from the last. Lira frowned, thinking, when it dawned on her and she let out a delighted gasp.

Sliding off the bank and onto the pebbled shore, she picked up a rock that was the same color as her original one had been: a deep purple. She launched it into the water and another sweet note pealed into the night.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed.

"Knew what?" Owen slid down to stand beside her.

"That's an A-note," she said. She crouched close to the ground hunting for more rocks, only straightening when she had one of each color.

"Okay..." muttered Owen, clearly not catching on.

Without further explanation, Lira dropped the stones one by one into the water, each one emitting a different musical note.

"G...E...B...C...it's a scale coordinated by color," she announced triumphantly.

"You have perfect pitch?"

Lira nodded, pieces of hair escaping her bun, too excited to elaborate as she studied the rocks left in her hand.

"I wonder if..." she murmured to herself. She began to count under her breath, sorting the rocks into a pile near her feet. Scooping them up, she walked right to the river's edge and threw them in quick succession, the sweet notes overlapping in a simple melody.

Owen let out a short burst of laughter. "Twinkle-twinkle little star? I would've expected better from the world's greatest violinist." He gave her a playful nudge.

Lira threw him a mocking, indignant glare. "Let's see you try and play a river."

Owen grinned, grabbed a handful of rocks and threw them. All the falling, mismatched notes let loose a cacophony of sound. Lira clapped her hands over her ears. "That's about the extent of my musical ability," he said.

"We'll work on it," she said.

Together, they counted out more stones and Lira tried to recreate her favorite songs, teaching Owen when and where to throw the rocks. Occasionally, they got it right and the river would reward them with a jumping song as the notes came together. Though more often than not, delayed throws would create gaps in the music. They played for hours until bleary-eyed the two crawled onto their mats, falling asleep with the flickering fire dancing behind their eyelids and the echoes of the river music lulling them into dreams.
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So what did you think of Lira and Owen's conversation?  Predictions for what's in store next? Let me know in the comments! Thanks for stopping by :)