To Hate a Piano
She had always hated that thing. Ever since she could remember. And now it was in her own house, of all places. How had it suddenly penetrated her sanctuary, appeared in the haven where that accursed object was seldom spoken or heard of? After spending all day casting hateful glances at it, she had to ask.
"Um, Arthur?" her husband looked up from where he sat at the kitchen table, reading the paper. "What is that doing here?" she jerked her thumb over her shoulder.
He grinned that sheepish, lopsided grin that usually made her stomach flutter in longing, but today turned it over with exasperation. "It's my piano. I finally got my mom to part with it and send it up."
Ariadne really didn't know how to respond. Didn't he know how she would feel? She lamely settled for, "I didn't know you could play."
His eyes lit up. "Yeah! Want to hear? It's still perfectly tuned." He started to get up, but she jumped between him and the doorway, arms outstretched, eyes panicky.
"No!"
His face fell, and she saw hurt and confusion in his eyes.
Her posture loosened. "What I mean is, do you remember when I told you about my sister?"
He nodded as understanding dawned on him. Ariadne rarely talked about her sister. She hated to dwell on the past, and her history with her sister wasn't the greatest. Maddie was something of a touchy subject for her; her sister had been everyone's favorite. Maddie's natural talent at the piano had begun her path to fame when she was five or six. Ariadne had had to sit through countless recitals, had wanted to claw her eardrums out with the never-ending practicing. It escalated as soon as Maddie realized she could get anything she wanted. She was popular, charming, intelligent, and pretty. Everything Ariadne had always told herself she could never be. No one ever noticed her, she was simply the older sister who must sit still, speak only when spoken to, and cater to her sister's every need instead of her own.
"Oh. Right," he didn't seem to know what else to say. "Sorry, I can get rid of it if-"
"That's alright. It's yours, you have a right to put it there." Ariadne put on a smile and kissed him on top of the head. "I'm going up to bed."
He nodded and turned back to his paper.
Upstairs, Ariadne sat in bed, thinking. It hardly came as a surprise when she heard gentle music floating up from downstairs. At first she wanted to cover her ears, but she stopped herself. Whatever song this was, it was intricate and beautiful. It reminded her of Arthur's simplicity and complexity, his flaws and perfection. If this was a part of his life then Ariadne wanted to try and embrace it.
She tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room where Arthur was playing. She came up behind him and looked down for his sheet music but discovered he had none. She studied his fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. Suddenly the song began to change. It was slow, sad, and filled with buried emotion. She closed her eyes to listen and ended up sitting on the bench next to him. He brought the song to a close and started when he realized she was there.
"Oh- Ari, I didn't realize, I thought you were asleep-"
She giggled and put her hand to cover his mouth. "It's different with you. If you love music, then I will too." He grinned in response and drew her closer to him, letting her lay her head on his shoulder.
After a moment, she remembered. "Hey, what song were you playing?"
Arthur looked at her lovingly. "I wrote it." Her eyes widened in surprise. "I used you for inspiration." He looked sheepish again. "I hope you don't mind."
Ariadne laughed and took his hands in hers. "I can't believe I didn't want to hear it." They looked at each other for a while before she spoke. "I love you, Arthur."
He kissed the top of her head in agreement.
"Will you play something for me?"
"With pleasure."