When she was young no one understood her. She believed if she was no one she could never be hurt. If she thought herself small she could become invisible. She always wanted to be invisible. She hated the spot light. Yet despite her best effort's she never was invisible.
Her shortcomings were often over looked for her ability to play music. From a young age she had a gift for making melodies'. Every interment placed in her hands came piano thundered under her fingers, string instruments were lightning come to earth in her hands. It was this one fact that made her noticed. She was always paraded around by her mother as some prodigy. She was always expected to perform and be in the spot light.
Her father tolerated her music. He never came out and said it but she knew he hated music because of what happened with his sister. His sister had been gifted with music as well and had run away to pursue it. He never spoke of this but it was clear every time he heard the music his daughter played that there was sadness and anger under the surface.
Her siblings thought she loved the praise and the attention that got heaped on her. They called her names and made her feel like a freak for her gift. But she never let them see her cry. She kept it inside her. Her pain was her weapon and she wielded it well. Every insult, every unshed tear was used in her songs.
She loved and hated music. Without it she would have been the invisible girl she always wanted to be. But with it she was able to express herself.
No one understood this about her, no one saw, no one cared. No one did until she met a stranger. She was at a deserted coffee shop she worked at. She had taken the job to rebel against her family. She had no need to work, her family was wealthy. Her siblings didn't have jobs and were only focused on being seen by their peers. She loved her job. It gave her freedom.
She was working with the banjo that day. She was curled around it so she could watch her fingers pluck at the cords. She had always liked the tangy sound of the banjo. She had found one she could afford herself that was used but not in bad shape that she could buy with her own money. She was playing with the strings, crafting a little melody when the bell above the door opened.
She looked up and saw the stranger who walked into the coffee shop. He stood back and looked at the chalk board menu above the counter. She kept playing her melody. It was almost where she wanted it to be. The customer who came in had chosen the wrong moment to get a coffee.
"Excuse me?" He had a good voice. She finally looked up to let her gaze meet his.
"Sorry. I was tuning." She places the banjo down and hopped off the stool she sat on while playing. "What can I get you?"
"Just a house roast coffee." He said with a smile.
"Just the coffee? For here or to go?"
"For here." He answered.
"Two dollars."
He took a worn wallet out and pulled out a ten. She made the change at the register and handed it back. He put the change in the tip jar and went to the table by the window. She took a black mug off the shelf and poured the coffee into it and placed it on a tray. She got a small container of cream out and put some in a little cup and added a small sugar bowl with a spoon and napkin on the tray.
She picked the tray up and walked over to him. He had a notebook out and she saw he was wrighting hurriedly. She placed the tray down and he thanked her without looking up from his page. She went back to her stool behind the counter and went back to her song.
He stayed for three hours that day. She tried to ignore him as best as she could. She plucked the strings of her interment absent-mindedly for a time. The only interaction she had with the stranger was to refill his cup and for him to hand her a ten and tell her to keep the change.
At eight she walked over to his table and cleared her throat. Hr finally looked up. His hand was ink stained, his eyes were red but he beamed a smile at her.
"Sorry to interrupt but I have to close the shop for the night." She gave him a sad little smile.
"Thanks for letting me sit in here all day. I like this place. Its quiet." He placed the used crockery on the tray and she walked it yo the counter. He picked up the notebook and capped his pen.
"Thats what we are here for." She walked him to the door so she could lock up once he left.
"I liked your tuning? Is that what you called it?"
She blushed a little and shrugged.
"Its what I call making melodies."
"I liked it. Are you going to be here tomorrow?"
"I'll be in at two until eight."
"I'll see you tomorrow then. I like to write here."
"Okay. Sure. See you tomorrow."
She cleaned the dishes, counted the till and left work to head home. One of the many perks of having a job was that she was able to rent a one bedroom flat above a dry cleaners in the neighborhood she worked in. She was not shackled the way her siblings were.
She opened the three locks on her door and tumbled her way to bed that night early. She dreamed of the dark eyes stranger and his ink covered hands.
He returned the next day, and the next and the next. He always ordered the same thing and tipped her more then he should. He never said a word to her except thank you and to ask for refills. She grew to like the stranger. Finally on the fourth day she asked him what his name was.
"I can't keep referring yo you as House Coffee." She said after sue asked.
"I'm Jon. What's your name? Banjo Coffee Girl fits, but that can't be your name." He said with a smirk.
"Arya." She replied with a small laugh.
He held out his hand to her.
"Nice to meet you Arya."
She shook hands with him and they went from never talking to never stopping. He moved from the window to the counter then. She would play either a guitar or the banjo. She made up melodies as they spoke and scribbled away in his notebook. On the sixth day they had been together she said good bye to him. He smiled and told her to look under the cup at the counter. He left and she locked the door behind him.
She went about cleaning, pocketing the page left under the cup. She waited until she was home to read it.
The handwriting was precise and easy to read. On the page was her melody. The first one he had heard her play the first day at her work. Under it were words to accompany the melody.
Away in the shadows she hides her face. Always looking but finding no place. No body sees, no body knows she screams in pain yet no one hears.
Away she walks on the same old road. Trying to find a hope that was lost. Stumbling blind she reaches out, finding a hand to pull her back.
Someone has found her, someone to hold. Shining hope forgotten in her heart.
No longer alone, no longer alone. Someone has found her, she has a home.
Arya was crying as she read the words. They captured her feelings and were placed to her own music. At the bottom of the page was a note written by Jon.
Arya,
From the moment I met you I wanted to know you. You hide behind a strong façade but inside you is a pain I want to take away. If you want to know me I'll be waiting for you.
Jon
Under his name was a number. She pulled out her phone and called him. He saw her and didn't think she was an attention seeking brat, someone to show off to his friends or someone to hide away like everyone else in her life. He saw her. With him she didn't want to be invisible, she didn't want to be no one. She wanted to be her, be Arya.
"Took you long enough."He said when he answered the phone.
"Shut up, don't be stupid. So where am I meeting you?" She said with a smile on her face that could have blinded the sun.
I wrote this last week at work on my lunch break. I figured I'd post it before I lost it. Enjoy!
I w