Then I googledvideo to learn to play piano.
It turns out? Playing the piano ishard.
Like—reallyhard.
It’s especially hard when people slow when they pass you, like they’re expecting you to be a professional musician, only to realize a second later that you’re far from it. But luckily, there weren’t that many people passing by, and Iwasgetting better—even if it was taking me longer than I’d anticipated.
But I did, after all, have time.
I had nothing but time.
Iwas improving. I could tell.
It no longer sounded ?horrible when I tried to play a Taylor Swift song. And the people that wandered past—I now knew them all, and exactly when they would show up—now nodded at me occasionally. Some of them even stopped to listen. This was ahugeimprovement, since not that long ago, they’d been wincing and speed-walking away.
I played a chord, breathing out as my fingers found their proper positions easily. I could finally do it without having to check the diagrams I’d found online, and without having to place each finger down deliberately. It was finally second nature.
I smiled, pulled up the chords, and started to play “Begin Again.”
Isat behind the piano and ran through my repertoire. I had songs I could play easily now, songs that even people passing by could recognize. I did a Disney medley, a Taylor medley, a Band of Brothers medley, and I’d even learned some classical pieces for good measure.
It wasn’t like everything sounded perfect, but everything I played was recognizable as a song. After I reached the end of my last one, I played the final chord and let the sound reverberate around me for a moment before it faded out.
A few of the people walking by gave me a nod, and one of the chaperones I now recognized even gave me a few small claps as she passed. But then there was only silence, and me, sitting alone in front of the keyboard.
I realized I’d come to the end of my project.
And I had no idea what came next.
Almost by force of habit, I ended up back in Grizzly Peak. For the first time in a long time, when the loop had started over again, I hadn’t snagged my keyboard. I wasn’t sure what the point would have been. I’d wanted to learn to play the piano, and I had. But now that I no longer had this goal to focus on, I was starting to get the panicky feeling I’d had earlier, the sense of an endless expanse of time bearing down on me. Like I was staring into an abyss and the abyss was staring back.
Needing a distraction, I looked through my bag, taking the items out one by one even though I was very familiar with everything I’d brought with me. There was my small makeup bag, wallet, mostly charged phone, headphones. And that was it.
There were no surprises, nothing unexpected. When I’d packed up my bag to bring to Grad Nite, I’d had no idea that I might be packing for…forever? I shook my head, not letting myself think like that. If I went down that road, I’d only start to spiral again. But, I reasoned as I started putting everything back, if I had known this, I might have packed some more books. Or a movie…
I paused, struck by a thought. I plugged my headphones in, put the earbuds in my ears, and started scrolling through my phone.
Ihated to admit it, but Niall was right.Minority Reportwas a pretty good movie.
Pettigrew’s Loopwas really good, too.
Istared down at my podcast app, eyes widening as I took in the sheer amount of episodes.
But it was important to Bryony—so it was important to me.
Wincing a little, I pressed play on the first episode ofCereal.
No podcast should have this many episodes.
And nobody should be forced to listen to this many mattress commercials.
There was justtoo much podcast. Too many episodes—they spannedyears. I had been listening for hours every night, walking the park in loops or sitting at a table in Grizzly Peak, and I’d barely made a dent.
Itwasactually pretty funny, though.
Imean, it took a while. You had to learn all the inside jokes and get to know the humor of the hosts, Sarah and Zan. I’d started saying their catchphrases out loud along with them, not caring if the people around me thought it was odd that this girl at Grad Nite was suddenly blurting out “It’s better with milk!” or “What kind of Cinnamon Toast nonsense is this?” Who cared what anyone else thought? This was all going to reset and they wouldn’t remember.
ButIwould—and best of all, I finally understood why Bryony loved it so much.
