The characters aren't mine. I wrote this for a challenge on another site, Thunderfan (dot) com. I hope you enjoy it.
Virgil sat at the piano, trying to compose a piece of music, but had trouble with the ending. Nothing he'd played seemed to fit. Sighing, he put his pen down, and started simply doodling around on the piano keys.
His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, as they played the first notes of a melody familiar to him. He stopped and smiled, then played the tune through. He let the last chord fade as his thoughts wandered back to the time he first heard it.
In his mind.
He was fourteen, and he'd been working secretly in his room for a week on a melody that had been running through his thoughts, ever since he'd realized his mother's birthday was fast approaching. He'd never tried to compose anything, but - thanks to his music and piano lessons - he felt ready to try. And what a birthday gift that would be for Mom, he thought. Something only I could give her.
He'd locked himself in his room for two hours every night that week, with a keyboard and some blank music sheets to write on. Fortunately no one tried to disturb him.
He wrote, tore up, threw away, rewrote, played some notes, and little by little, what was in his mind appeared on paper. Finally, the night before her birthday, he felt he had it just right.
He played it all the way through once, twice. Then a third time, a smile growing on his face. He'd done it! He carefully copied it on a couple of clean sheets, then rolled it up and tied it in a ribbon of her favorite shade of lilac. He put it away in a drawer, then tiredly prepared for bed, remembering to unlock the door before he turned the lights off.
He'd just gotten into bed, when there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he called, hoping it wasn't one of his brothers.
It wasn't. The door opened, and his mother walked in. "I just wanted to see if you were all right, Virgil. You've been very solitary this last week, and I was getting worried."
"I'm fine, Mom," he replied as she sat on the side of his bed. "I just had something I needed to do alone. And it took me a while, but I got it done."
"Oh? May I see what it is?"
"Uh-uh. Not until tomorrow. It's a surprise."
"A surprise? Now I wonder why you would have a surprise to show me tomorrow." The smile and the mischief in her eyes told him she was teasing him. He decided to reciprocate.
"Well, no special reason, I guess. I just want to be alert when I show you the surprise and I'm kinda tired right now." He grinned back at her.
She laughed and tousled his hair, drawing a mild protest from him. "Okay, young man. I'll let you get your sleep. But how about a good night hug for your mother?"
He complied, whispering in her ear, "I love you, Mom."
"And I love you, too. Very much," she whispered back. When she pulled away, there was a hint of moistness in her eyes. "Now get some sleep. Sweet dreams, son."
"Okay, Mom. You too," he replied, yawning. She turned out the lights and closed the door. He was asleep moments later.
The next evening, they returned from having dinner out. Everyone had been on their best behavior (which, their mother drolly commented to their father, was a birthday present in itself). It was time for the presents to be opened. One by one, the boys and Jeff handed her gaily wrapped boxes, gratified by her exclamations of joy and surprise. Virgil waited patiently until she had opened everything given her. Then he stood up.
"Now, it's my turn. Mom, will you come over to the piano with me?"
Surprised, she rose and followed him, and watched him open the bench, retrieving the sheet music from it. He handed it to her and told her to open it. She did so and, noticing the title, said, "Is this what you've been working on all week, Virgil?"
"Yes, Mom. Shall I play it for you?"
She nodded and, as the others gathered around, he started to play. As he did, he noticed that his parents exchanged startled glances, but ignored it and finished the piece. The second he took his hands off the keys, she sat beside him and threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly.
"That was beautiful, honey. I love it and will cherish it always." Tears flowed down her cheeks as she said that, and Jeff moved behind her, placing one hand on her shoulder. She put her hand up to rest on his as the boys made their comments.
"Way to go, Virge!" "So that's why we haven't seen much of you this past week." "Wow! I wish I could do that!" "That was so cool!"
Noticing the title, Jeff said, "You have a real talent there, son. I'm proud of you. That music is your mother, all over."
Virgil had called the piece, For Mom.
Lucille died a few years later, and Virgil played the song at her funeral. Thereafter, he played the song only for the family, and only on her birthday. Today was the first time he played it on another day. But it was just what he needed to come up with the right ending to his current work. He wrote it down, then played it once, twice. He smiled and sighed, rotating his wrists, then his shoulders. It was finished, except for the title. He frowned for a moment, then smiled and wrote:
Memories of Lucille.