Complement #58
Said to: Mum
You look great in green.
***
I stare at the keys in front of me, grinning up at me like the Cheshire Cat. I've been sitting on the stool for the past fifteen or so minutes, just glaring at the keyboard. I haven't really been thinking - I just sat there, biting my lip and slouching. I'm not even sure I blinked. That's how occupied I was.
Tentatively, I reach out and press one key. It vibrates in the silence, carrying an echo in the empty room. I haven't touched the ivory surface for nearly a year and yet, I still remember the names of the sounds.
G. F. D. E. F. C. G. A. B. D.
I press the keys haphazardly, like a four-year-old child on its first piano lesson. I move slowly at first, letting one sound end before I bring to life another. I increase my tempo then, letting the sounds mix, creating new rhythms. The feeling is foreign, yet completely familiar all at once, filling my body with that hum of anticipation I haven't felt for so long. It's as if my soul itself felt restless and fought for freedom, needing to lose itself in that forgetful bliss. It's not the full rush that used to accommodate me every time I touched the keys in my previous life, but it's a nice feeling all the same. One I haven't experienced in so long. One I haven't even realized how much I missed.
Everett once asked me how I manage not to tangle my fingers and hit the right keys. He finds it impossible to remember which note belongs to what key, or where one octave ends and the other begins. Another thing that my brother can't comprehend is how I can possibly play one tune with one hand and a different one with the other. The notes are Chinese to him, and the two staffs containing two melody lines confuse him more than algebra confuses me. And even though I've tried, I can't find a way of explaining it to him. It seems too... natural. Expounding playing would be like describing the process of breathing. Breathe in. Breathe out. Peace out. Lay your fingers on the keys. Take a deep breath. Close your eyes. Let your hands move. Empty your head.
Before you know it, your fingers are flying over the keyboard, voicing the thoughts you never knew existed within you and expressing your very core to those who are willing to listen.
Your fingers, they radiate talent, Jed had said that day at his house. You should do it more often if you miss it...
I do miss it. God, how much I miss it.
I lower the tone by an octave. I haven't realized...
My hands move to the right side of the keyboard, hitting higher sounds. I haven't even known...
I use the very pads of my fingers to plant featherlight kisses on the black and white keys, bringing the sound into a soft piano. I never experienced the yearning as strongly as I do now that I feel the smooth surface of the ivory keys under my fingers, feel my foot moving up and down with the motion of the pedal, feel the vibration of the strings hidden underneath the wooden lid.
My hair falls into my eyes, having fallen loose from the messy knot I've tied it into and tickling my nose and face. I do not care as I apply more pressure, forcing a loud forte out of the instrument. Truth be told, it is a little out of tune, which can be heard now, when I hit the keys more forcefully. I keep playing regardless, afraid that if I stop now, I'll never look at the piano again. Completely gone now, I go on with my own, personal tune, not connected with any of the dozens of note sheets I have stuck in my head, but one that is a premiere, something that was never played before, a melody that belongs solely to me, expressing who I am, who I was always meant to be -
A sudden sound gains my attention. It's persistent and sharp and doesn't work well with my composition. My foot leaves the pedal at the same moment my fingers stop moving and I go still, listening. I am surprised to find my breathing labored and my hands shaking slightly. In fact, it is my whole body that hums quietly, powered by my fast-beating heart that is currently struggling to deliver blood into every vessel that needs it. I blink slowly and take a while to compose myself back together, to shake myself out of whatever trance I've just entered. It is when I hear the knocking that I come back to reality and stand up from the stool.
Tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear, I shuffle towards the front door and take a look through the peephole to check who's decided to knock the hell out of my door. My fingers quickly fly to the deadbolt and undo it a second before I tug at the handle to reveal Jed's smiling face looking down at me.
"Hey." He says, sending me a contagious grin and rocking back on the balls of his feet. My eyes run over the length of him, noting the hands stuck in his pockets and the I-don't-care-about-the-world demeanor he always sports. I raise my chin and meet his brown gaze. No glasses today, which means he's in a playful mood. I wonder what I'm in for today.
I lean against the smooth surface of the door, still slightly dizzy from my musical high. "Hi."
"May I come in?" Jed stretches his neck, glancing into the hall past my shoulder.
I nod dully, stepping to the side to let him in. Jed strolls into the house with the hint of his usual swagger, then stops and turns to look at me.
"Are you okay?" He asks, his brows furrowing slightly.
I nod, causing that infuriating strand of hair to fly forward again. I need to get myself in a grip, and soon. "Yeah, just a little dizzy. I was taking a nap."
A lie, but he doesn't have to know.
Jed's eyes fly over me in that suspicious way of his but his chin dips in a single nod when I send him a teeth-revealing smile.
"Huh." He says. "Now I know why it took you so long to open the door."
I suck my lips in, pressing them into a thin line. "Yup."
An awkward silence passes between us, and Jed uses it to scan the living room area with his eyes. They linger on the piano, where the lid over the keyboard is still open, revealing the white teeth grinning at me mockingly. I know I'm in trouble when Jed's brow arches slightly.
"Mom was cleaning earlier today. She must have forgotten to close it." I say.
Jed nods again without a hint of indignation that he had bought my lie.
"Took out the notes, too." He observes.
My eyes snap to the white sheets of note paper decorating the holder. I mentally slap myself. I had brought them here and stared at them for no particular reason before I started playing.
"She does it sometimes." I shrug. "Dunno why."
I can tell there are at least a million of other questions forming in Jed's mind. Not prepared to answer all of them right now, I make a quick decision. Crossing the small distance between us, I don't stop until my front is almost flush with his and I'm tipping my chin back to look him in the eye. At first, he looks confused - I'm not usually this bold, the action was fully spontaneous and meant to take his mind off the piano, - but then one corner of his lips tips up, telling me he likes it.
"Hi there." He muses.
"Hey." I put on a smile to match his. Bringing my hands up, I lace my fingers behind his head, toying with the longer strands of his hair playfully. "Missed me?"
"I wouldn't be here otherwise, would I?" Jed's grin widens. Matching my earlier actions, he drops his hands down to my waist, tugging me to him slightly. "I like your hair."
"It's a mess." I say, shaking my head. More hair falls forward, escaping the poor excuse of a bun. Jed chuckled and tucks the strands behind my ear, his fingers sliding lower and lingering on the skin of my neck.
"A lovely mess." He corrects me cheerfully. A shiver runs down my body when he grazes the skin near my collarbone, dipping into the valley where it arches. A blush instantly attacks my neck, spreading up my throat and higher, going for the face.
"Here you go with the blushing again." Jed teases, his fingers playing along the hem of my shirt. It doesn't take him long to slip them beneath the material and start tracing irregular shapes and lines on the skin of my waist. "I both love and hate it. Love, because it's so adorable." He leans in to kiss the tip of my nose. "Hate, because it makes your freckles disappear, and I miss the little guys every time they're gone."
I start laughing because I can't help it. Jed makes me do things for no particular reason, something that has never been my thing, not even in Scotland.
"You are the one who puts the blush there." I reason, cocking my head to the side.
Jed mimics my movement, tilting his head in the opposite direction. We must both look bipolar, staring at each other with our necks craned, wide, goofy smiles on our faces.
"I'm not doing anything. It's not my fault that even after all this time, you're still afraid of me."
"I'm not afraid." I protest. I bring my head back into its normal position and stare him straight in the eye. "It's just... new. All of this. Unlike some, I have never done this whole relationship thing before." There's a tease to my voice, but I can't find the hint of jealousy following it. I swallow hard, hoping Jed won't notice.
The sudden glint in his eye tells me he did.
"Are you suggesting I'm some sort of a war veteran when it comes to relationships?" His brow arches.
I curse myself for starting the topic.
"Well, you definitely have more experience than me in that matter." I observe.
Jed's eyes deepen into that intense whisky color and I suddenly start wishing he had worn the glasses. I try escaping his piercing gaze but a single finger under my chin prevents me from doing so.
"Well, hell." He says, confusing me. I have no idea what he means by it but before I can open my mouth to ask, he continues talking. "How many boyfriends have you had, Fiona?"
I blink. This was unexpected. "Is that a tricky question?"
The look he gives me tells me it is definitely not a tricky question. Rolling my eyes, I let my shoulders sink in defeat as I provide him with an answer. "You know exactly how many boyfriends I've had."
"This is not a number."
I sigh. He's really going to make me say it. "Fine." I tighten my lips in an attempt to show him just how much I'm enjoying this conversation. "Zero. The number is zero. I've never had a boyfriend before you, so the number you're looking for is a big, fat zero."
Jed;s lips twitch but he does a good job of remaining relatively serious. "And how many girls do you think I've been with?"
I arch a brow. "Uh.. More than zero?"
He shakes his head slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. I want to focus on this moment very much, but the fingers picking up their previous action of inching higher under the material of my shirt make the task really hard. Just when I think Jed's going to keep tilting his head from side to side until it falls off at the base when he finally tips his chin forward, his shoulders lifting with a big inhale.
"You remember when I told you I was a player on my freshman year, right?" He finally asks.
I nod, not sure where this is all going.
"And I don't mean only a football player. Whatever meaning of this word might come to your head, it probably describes me back then." Jed continues as the lump forming in my throat grows. This isn't really where I thought this was heading.
"Girls like team members, and the team members like girls. It has been this way when the dinosaurs still walked the ground we stand on, and it will be like this a thousand years from now." Jed says, using that voice people switch on while explaining what an elephant is to a three-year-old child. "This is just the way things are, and there's no use denying it."
I don't move, afraid that if I breathe too loudly, either him or I will run.
"But I hope you also remember when I told you I quit." Jed goes on, his tone never changing. "And I mean it. I quit. Am not going back. Either to football, or anything else."
I hadn't realized by hands left the nape of his neck and are now hanging limply by my sides until now. Suddenly aware, I bent my fingers, not sure of what to do with my palms. The insides of them feel itchy, as if thousands of ants decided it is the best place for a party. I don't like this feeling.
I close them into fists.
"Fiona." Jed says, worry lacing his voice.
I nod lightly, mostly because it feels right and because I have no idea what to say. The concern darkening his eyes tells me it might have not been the best move.
"You don't believe a word I just said, do you?"
I nod, because really, what else is there to do? Jed stares at me, possibly wondering what I mean. I stare back, also wondering the same because I do not have the slightest idea what I mean, by the nodding, either. We stay like this, just looking at each other, and would probably spend hours and hours performing the exact action if Jed didn't swear quietly and closed his eyes briefly.
"Fuck it."
I open my mouth to tell him it was the first time he used this word around me, but do not manage to when his lips descend upon mine and silence me with a spontaneous kiss.