As soon as I open my eyes, the dazzling rays of the sun welcome me in the world. I burry my face in my pillow and tightly wrap my sheets around me, smiling.
I recall the memory of yesterday, when Frank and I were dancing in the kitchen. I try imagining how it must've looked to an imaginary third person, would there have been one present. Would it have looked as silly as I felt in the beginning? Or would it have looked like a scene coming out of a movie?
I turn to my other side, tangled in the sheets, but smiling, again.
Yesterday with Frank was fun. Even when he told me about his parents, I didn't wish I was somewhere else. I'm glad he told me.
I throw the sheets off my body and lie on my back.
I like being around Frank, I'm not lying to myself about that.
*Ting*
I grab my phone to read a text I just received.
"Dear Giselle,
unfortunately our performer has cancelled today's event due to personal issues. Please let us know if you're available to take his place as soon as possible.
With kind regards,
Patricia Stewart, Event Manager with Miles-Stratton."
I jump out of my bed and can't help myself but frolicing around. "Yes!"
My bedroom door opens, revealing my curious and slightly concerned dad. "Is everything okay, sweetie?" He's already dressed and ready to leave for work.
"Dad, I'm playing at that celebration of Miles-Stratton tonight, can you believe it?"
He walks inside my room to hug me. "That's great, but I thought they signed you up as the back-up pianist?"
"Well, the main performer cancelled." I carry out a little victory dance in my pyjamas. "Oh, it's going to be great. Can you imagine it, dad? Me, playing in a fancy gown behind a Steinway at the annual celebration of Miles-Stratton? This has to be the fanciest occasion I've ever played at."
My dad smiles doubtfully. "What about your birthday? Don't you want to celebrate it with friends tonight?"
Right... my birthday.
I briefly raise my shoulders. "I will go out with Vicky after school for an hour or so. Besides, being allowed to do this job tonight is probably the best gift I could get."
I smile while I write a responding text to Patricia Stewart.
Today is going to be a good day.
I'm still enjoying my birthday breakfast, put together by my dad, when Frank arrives. He doesn't wait in the car like he usually does, but instead, he walks through our front door. "Good morning, Mr. Paques." He firmly, but casually nods to my dad. "Miss Paques."
Miss Paques? I'm not sure if I've ever heard him say that before, but I could swear he greeted me with a faint smile, although it's always hard to tell with him.
"Ah Frank," my dad gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Good you're here."
"Always good to be here, sir." Frank makes his way in these conversations in such a smooth manner, it makes me wonder where he picked up this skill.
"Very well, I'm off to pack my things in my study. Can I have a word?" My dad has already stood up and is making his way to his study.
"Yes sir, right away."
Frank then turns to me. Without saying anything, he hands me over an object wrapped in gift paper.
"Oh Frank, you shouldn't have." I hesitate to unwrap it. "You really didn't have to." I didn't expect a gift from him, so this comes as a surprise.
"Just open it."
I can't tell if he's excited to see my reaction, or if he just wants to get on with it so he can go talk to my dad in the study. Either way, I unwrap his gift. It's clear to me, even before having taken off the gift paper, that he gave me something as a book, or maybe a piece of art, as the object is clearly a rectangle. I didn't expect it to be that personal.
But it is.
In my hands I hold an early edition assemblage of Chopin's nocturnes for the piano. The paper appears to have survived some decades, but is still very intact. This is gold.
I open the first page, to have my eyes' attention drawn by elegant handwriting at the end of the page: "K. Reinhardt-Loch."
I read the text, written in ink, out loud and focus my attention at Frank. "Is this..."
I don't end my sentence.
He looks at me in a delicate way and I feel almost uneasy being exposed to it directly.
Frank nods as good as unnoticeably. A brief silence descends among us.
Then, I shake my head. "I can't accept your mother's piano sheets of Chopin. It's too precious of a possession."
Frank looks down at the book for a moment. "I think it's in good hands."
I don't know what to say. I open my mouth, but hesitate, and close it again. An early edition of Chopin's Nocturnes, I can't believe it.
"Thank you."
"Have a happy birthday." He says and leans in to place a swift kiss on my cheek. "Herzlichen Glückwunsch zum Geburtstag, Giselle."
And with that, he leaves in direction of the study.
I touch my heated cheek with my hand.