Guardian Angel 3 Chapter 9

‘Daniel, is your bleeper switched on?’ I asked.

‘Yes. I have to keep it on,’ he responded, ‘what about yours?’

‘I’m not working in that section. Tomorrow, I’m in another hospital.’


‘I’m not a senior, remember? I guess that’s how I gain experience maybe. A lot of the consultants move around different hospitals.’

‘Wait, so you don’t have your own office?’

‘God, Daniel, I was working with you last year,’ I snapped, ‘give me time to develop.’

‘How is it? I really don’t know how you can stand all that.’

‘Alright, so far. The patients relax as soon as I tell them that I worked as a surgeon before taking the next step.’

‘You’re on next,’ he whispered, ‘let me see you, turn around.’

I did a quick twirl before he grabbed my arm and held me straight.

‘I’m fine, I can just walk out–’

‘No,’ he undid my tie and started retying it. I knew I had issues with things being in a certain order, but Daniel had his own ones. One, having a tie knotted in a specific way. ‘It’s packed and although I can’t see the people clearly, you and I can see how bright the stage is.’

I attempted to lean over to take a glimpse of the hall but was pulled back.

‘This is how it all looks,’ he started, ‘its dark, but every so often, a weird light would swirl around the audience. It’s just for the cameras and, yes, it is all being recorded.’

‘Well, it was organised by my father. What else?’

‘You’ll see when you walk out, now straighten up and go,’ he pushed.

I stumbled forward and fell flat on my stomach. The only reason my face didn’t hit the ground was because of my hands. Jumping back up, I began brushing down and apologising to deaf ears. My eyes first focused on the audience, then to the side. I knew the action was not intentional, but what I was not expecting, was to see his knuckles in his mouth, trying to stop himself from laughing.

‘Oh well,’ I muttered to myself. Silence had turned into sound. Nodding at the audience, I walked to the piano with heavy eyelids. The light was following my every movement, thus enabling them to see my facial expression.

The chatter still had not subsided, so closing my eyes, ‘sound,’ I whispered and pressed down hard on the keys. ‘Silence,’ I smiled, as all noise disappeared. ‘Sound’ had to be used to silence ‘sound’. The irony, I couldn’t help chuckling. Do I use that term?

Taking my seat, I tapped down on a low key three times and began. I allowed my fingers to relay all that I was feeling, and I knew it for a fact that it was intense. My mind wondered off to a random place. There were black feathers on the ground and female voices surrounding me. But, just as it came, it disappeared and was replaced by mist. Did the mist play a role in all this?

Not being able to distinguish the time, I concentrated on how I was feeling. There was pain, something that I had not felt before, but it was consuming me. The sound of violins and other string instruments were playing in the background, perfectly following what my I felt. I snapped my eyes open and began listening to the melody my fingers were creating. It wasn’t intense and full of confusion, now. No, it now played a sad tune. The violins, in my head, were still playing.

I’d never played a sad tune before. The tune was soft and brought on a different feeling. What was tugging inside me, it had gotten worse. I noticed how my fingers were lengthening the tune, slowly on the deep low notes, and how my right hand was adding effect.

I heard the audience gasp at the sudden change of one tune to another.

‘I will fight this. You do not exist,’ I repeated over and over, and my fingers passed on that message to the keys. The keys carried the message to the audience, using their tune. Each note hit was sent out to them, and how they interpreted it, was their problem.

My fingers were playing a love story. I didn’t know how long I was playing. Playing because performing meant I was tapping away for others and to please them. Playing meant that as soon as my fingers touched the beautiful keys, my fingers were tapping for me. Green eyes flashed back at me.

Yes, it was my story and I wanted them to at least know that, so I started,

‘This is my story,
So simple and plain,
It revolves around a word,
A word that I cannot explain,

Hear the story through the tune,
Through each key that I tap,
Feel it through the notes,
High and low, or deep and soft, perhaps,

The word makes me smile,
So, I’ll hit the high notes for you,
But it also brings tears of sadness, 
I’ll press down on the low notes too,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But this word, is a word that can never be real,

This word controlled my actions,
My feelings, my thoughts,
It justified each and every step I took,
Disregarding the consequences, it brought,

But this word gave me meaning to life, 
To taste, to touch, for me to breathe,
It’s just the waiting game that has me hooked,
Impatience taking over belief,

Anger courses through me,
As this word interferes with my life,
Hear the deep sound, that echoes across the room,
Low notes pressed down hard, one two, three, four five,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But this word, is a word that can never be real,

How can you play with this word, 
My emotions, my feelings for you?
High, low, deep, or soft, 
Tell me, which key should I choose?

Anger, happiness, smiles and tears,
Confusion, emotions, which key do I press?
My fingers are too fast,
But, please follow this story, follow this mess,

These thuds inside me, 
When you’re near me, I can’t explain, 
But, when you walk away, without a second glance,
It’s replaced with fear, ache, such pain,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But this word, is a word that can never be real,

This word has caused all this, 
Yet the word is still pure,
But once this word catches you, 
Be sure, you will never find a cure,

Maybe the story of my life is not so simple, 
What I feel, can no longer be suppressed,
My fingers, the tune, the notes, 
Are the only way my story can be expressed,

It’s hard to order my story, 
When you play with my heart, 
Crush and stamped upon, 
Relieved now, as it’s shattered, 
Shattered apart,

The piano is my heart, each beat are the keys,
And the tune expresses…
It expresses how I feel, 
Follow the story, my fingers shout,
But this word, is a word that can never be real’ 

I needed to stop because my fingers were getting tired, which meant that thinking of this love story, and asking all these questions, were tiring my mind. This love story that the audience heard, this was not a love story.

Love stories either had a sad ending, the tune echoed, or a happy ending, high notes hit through. But it can’t be a love story, low notes, because, my fingers began to slow down, this love story did not exist, so how can it be love? I pressed down on the final key. The final note.

The room went silent. I slowly lowered my fingers back.

‘Kray?’ I heard Daniel’s worried voice.

‘No,’ I mumbled, ‘this is not the silence I want it all to end with,’ I began again, before anyone could clap.

Anger coursed through my body as the word ‘denial’ swirled in my mind. Call me selfish for ruining the evening, but this was the only way to let it all out. They needed to know my feelings and the only way to let it out was through the keys.

One word, one word only. Love, I couldn’t help thinking.

I suddenly stopped. The room, once again, was enveloped in silence. All I could hear was my deep breathing.

‘Logic will always prevail. It will always win.’

I didn’t wait for the applause, rather, I stretched my fingers, nodded and walked off the stage towards Daniel.

‘What happened?’

Sending him a side glance, I patted his shoulder and left him standing there.

‘Sound,’ it was back.

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