Chapter 15.2: 1967, George
Very gently, my eyes open. Light is flooding through white shaders on the large window. I don't know where I am. My head starts pounding like a rage and my hands go over my temples, trying to calm them. All this before I hear what is going on in the room.
Like a calm voice, very gently as a lazy stream, the sounds of piano keys are pouring into my consciousness.
For a few moments, I'm floating in a cloud. Have I died? Did I kill myself last night? But no, if I was dead I wouldn't be here. I wouldn't be floating on a cloud. I am no angel. But gently, as everything is right now, my head loses all of its thoughts and just listens.
Without warning, my hands fly over my mouth as vomit bubbles up inside and I have to run to the bathroom. Where is the bathroom? Where is it? Too fucking late. I see a small trash bin under the bedside table and into it I retch.
The piano keys stop and I feel so awful. Please keep playing, stranger. Your Chopin is so good.
"Georgina! Are you okay?!"
The sound of a bench against carpet. The sounds of pleasant bare footsteps.
I spit into the bin and feel so grossed out I don't know what. I just want it to go away. And it does go away, leaving my hand into another's. It disappears and I hear a door shut, the sound of a toilet flushing and the sound of a faucet. I have no idea how long this takes.
"Ohhh my head," I groan.
"Hang over? Want an egg? If you drink an egg, it will go away."
"That old cure? It doesn't work..." I groan some more and roll over.
"How about some strawberry milk, then?"
Oh, its Frankie. Ah. I'd love some strawberry milk but will it make me vomit? Its so sweet.
"Its so sweet..." I say, sighing.
"Oh," he says, unsureness in his voice. "Is there anything I can do?"
Chopin.
I roll over towards his voice. My eyes open and I see his legs, still wearing that Italian suit. One of many he owns. Its dark blue today. "Piano," I say to him, reaching out to touch him. "That song you were playing...Nocturne in E-flat...?"
"-Major, Opus no.2," Frankie finishes, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "You know it?"
I'm smiling now, too. "Yeah, honey. I play piano. All pianists know that song."
He gives a little giggle. "Right, I know."
"Play it for me. It made me think I was in heaven, floating on a cloud."
"My lovely lady, floating on a cloud of goose feathers."
I'm laughing and my head is pounding but I don't care. "Play it for me. Play me every Chopin song you know."
"Mm. Okay, my queen."
I breathe deeply and he rolls the goose down comforter over my shoulder, patting it to make sure it is securely in place. He kisses my forehead and my eyes turn into twin smiles.
Then he goes away. The sound of the piano bench on carpet comforts me, and as his fingers touch the piano keys and the sweet tones of Chopin dance into my ears I enter into heaven's gates again, Frankie my leader as I follow his piano notes.