This chapteris a little different, I think you can spot it pretty easily.
Five years. Five years since she died.
I remember I was only 11. Dad told me to go in and see her, because she really needed to talk to me. I still thought she looked pretty- her pale face framed with dark brown, almost black curls. Her eyes were closed, but I knew how vivid green her eyes were. In short, I'd inheireted all her looks.
She looked weak, though, and pale. A doctor had been in to see her alot, but for the past few days he'd stopped. I thought maybe Mom was getting better.
She smiled weakly at me.
"Baby," she whispered, "Can you sing for your Mama?"
I nodded. Mom always loved to hear me singing, she'd inspired my music in every way possible.
"What song?"
"Brahm's Lullaby."
"You want to go to sleep, Mama?"
She nodded, and her eyes filled with tears.
"Time for me to sleep. I have to go now. You understand?"
I nodded gravely, although I didn't.
"Keep singing, baby, okay? Don't stop until after I'm gone."
Gone where, I wondered, To sleep? That must be it.
"I promise, Mama."
"You start soon, baby."
"Lullaby and good night,
With roses bedight
With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed
Lay thee down now and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed
Lay thee down now and rest,
May thy slumber be blessed"
By the time I finished that, her grip on my hand was loosening, and my father's shaking grip on my shoulder was tightening. I knew then. It hit me like a rock. Mama was dying, I thought blankly, she's dying now. And I have to sing her to sleep. What if I stop? Would she live then?
"Keep singing, baby."
"Mama,"I tried to sound brave, but it sounded more like a choke, "If I don't sing you won't go to sleep-"
"I'll..Oh, no, child, I will. I'm sorry, babe, I will. I just need you to make it easier." Tears were slipping silently down her pale cheeks.
"Lullaby, and goodnight,
Thy Mother's delight,"
I saw her smile wearily. This was her delight. Her grip loosened on my hand and fell limp to the bed.
"They shall guard thee at rest-"
But I couldn't finish. Mama was gone.
"Maybe she can hear you?"
I looked up at my Daddy. He looked tired.I decided to change my song to another one Mama loved. I leaned close to her, running my small finger across her eyelid, down her temple, and throw her dark hair.
"Close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain,
Wave Goodbye to cares of the day,
Watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain,
Sail far away from lullaby bay,"
For a long time after that, I never wanted to sing. Until I met Shirley. She heard me humming to myself and commented on my voice. Through time and persuasion, I finally started attending the occasional group lesson.
It all happened at our Christmas Recital. I'd been sitting with Dad, and starting to drift off, when I heard a voice that didn't sound anything like someone Shirley'd taught to sing. Sure, Shirley was good...but not that good.
The voice belonged to a girl who reminded me of an angel, or the porcelain dolls Mama collected. She had pale, delicate features, and light blonde hair in large, perfect curls. She was obviously around my age, 17, but she was small and delicate. The wine colored dress she was wearing really stood out against her pale skin. I wondered who she was.
And so now I sit here, on a bench, listening to her sing. I probably should have known better than to try and get involved with her. She could be very nice, and sweet, I knew. She was singing a song right now...a song that was making her cry. It was an emotional song, it made me think of my mother. I knew we could be company for each other, we could help each other, and we'd probably get along very good. But she still saw something in someone else.
There's nothing special about that guy that I can see. I think she'd do well to stay away from him. Sure, he's good-looking. So are alot of guys. I knew I had something he probably didn't have. Something to relate to her about. I'd use it after this lesson. The time to strike was now. But this guy had one thing over me that Iworried I might never be able to get, and that's the strange connection with her, her infatuation, her glances, her attention - and that would be hard to compete with. I knew that I had less than a month now. If she still saw him the way she did now, she'd probably never leave Tulsa and go to London. But I couldn't stay behind for a girl, as much as I wanted to. I'd have to make her want to go. And I knew just how, because I knew her weakness.
Notice I didn't use any names? Haha.
