This is life. Happy moments exist only briefly. Everything fades eventually.
I close my eyes and try to pull myself together. No matter how hard I try, I always fail.
I stand and look down at my bare feet as I cross the room. I step out onto the balcony, desperate for fresh air. I heard Judas’s bedroom door earlier, but he didn’t come back. He didn’t say anything. Maybe that’s for the better.
My hands grip the railing. As I inhale, movement below catches my eye. Judge Harrington and Judas walk through the garden toward the driveway. They reach the car. The judge opens the door and gets in first. Judas hesitates. He looks up at the house. Atme.
I blink.
He lowers himself into the car.
My fingers tighten around the railing like it might keep my chest from collapsing. The air feels thick. Heavy. I can’t breathe.
I take a breath as they drive away. The sound of the car fades, but the tightness in my chest doesn’t. I tilt my head toward the bedroom, then pause.
Piano music comes up from downstairs.
I turn and walk back through the bedroom as if my steps are drawn by the sound. I need something to hold onto, something to pull me out of my head. If I stay still, I will scream, and I won’t know how to stop.
I open the bedroom door. The music grows louder. I never heard it like this before. Not live.
I move down the hallway as if the sound might break if I rush it. When I reach the stairs, the melody is closer. I follow it down, step by step, until I see her.
Catherine sits in the corner of the living room, half hidden by the entrance. I can only see her back at first. She wears a white sweater, loose against her shoulders. Her blonde hair spills down her back, catching the sunlight.
I stop at the frame of the doorway and lean against it, staying still. Watching her play.
Melody is more familiar now.
Sunlight pours in through the window, warming her skin. Her eyes are closed. Her fingers glide across the piano keys. Her shoulders move, answering the music.
She feels me before she sees me.
The sound stops for a second, and she turns, smiling.
“Carmen. I didn’t hear you.”
“I heard someone playing,” I say softly, crossing my arms over my chest. “I just followed it.”
“Come.” She tilts her head toward the chair beside her and taps it with her hand. “Sit with me.”
I hesitate, then step closer. I pull the chair out, the wood scraping loudly against the floor, and sit beside her.
“I used to play a lot in high school,” she says, her fingers resting on the keys. “I loved it.” She laughs under her breath. “Now I only play when I’m bored.”
“We outgrow things,” I say. I press down on a single key. “What were you playing?”
She looks at me like I have offended her. “There’s no way you don’t recognize this.”
She turns back to the piano and starts again.
The notes settle into an old song I used to hear. My chest tightens as the memory finds me, and the words slip out.
“My Heart Will Go On.”
She nods, smiling, and nudges my shoulder with hers as she keeps playing.
I close my eyes.
