Sorry about the long wait! Schools ending so that means FINALS!! I plan to add on to this as much as possible over the summer, so hopefully that means more frequent updates!!! Thank you for your patience and please Review! each one makes a difference to me, so even if its a tiny note, I'd really appreciate the support! Thank you and Enjoy!!!
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When I awoke the next morning, I was back in my bed. I cried silently. Had it all been but a lovely, but intangible dream? I got out of bed and went to investigate. Father showed no sign of the night before. He still sat at the piano as silent and unresponsive as ever.
I cried silently in despair in the corner, watching him and wishing it could have been true. I went to the kitchen sadly and began to make breakfast. Subconsciously I had made enough for two. I sighed and slipped the omelets onto two plates, even though I knew it was pointless. I went in slowly, silently placing his breakfast onto the table next to his piano. He didn't acknowledge it. I sighed and returned to the kitchen to eat my own. It was to my wonderful surprise and joy to find that when I returned, the omelet was gone. But the glass still remained half full of milk. So I replaced it with a glass of water, which I later noticed he had drank outside of my sight. It gave me great joy that he was eating again. Perhaps this might be the beginning of the end of his solitary depression. I hardly concealed my glee that entire day. I simply couldn't be still!
I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and went outside. The wind shifted through the trees ever so gently, nice and peaceful, relaxing. Today will be a good day, I thought to myself, picking a couple apples from the tree out front, yes, it should be a very good day. I hummed and sang and danced about outside and in the kitchen. It was very silly of me, but I was a child then, and thought little of such things…
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When I awakened the next morning, I almost cried out in frustration. It was so agonizing to have to relive that night over and over again. It broke me. I could hear the buzzing all around me and feel the migraine before I even raised my head. I resisted the urge to call Bella down. I couldn't do it, not twice in one night. Not to her. So I sat there lifelessly with my hands suspended over the keys, waiting for inspiration to strike. Then I heard her come downstairs. I didn't move, lest I frighten her. I was slightly embarrassed about the night before. I had robbed her of much-needed sleep. She watched me, a pained look on her face. Maybe I had hurt her more than I knew. I hung my head in despair and shame as she trudged into the kitchen heartlessly. I heard her making something. She sighed. I frowned. What had I done? Suddenly she tiptoed in and cautiously set a plate next to me with an enormous omelet on it. I resisted even as my stomach protested. I was hungry, but I didn't deserve her kindness. I turned my head away, rejecting them. But what if that offended her? What if I hurt her feelings by not eating them? That would be cruel, one transgression directly following another. So I scooped up the eggs slowly and ate them. They were absolutely delicious. I frowned in confusion. Where on earth had she learned to cook? Most certainly not from me. I glanced at the glass of milk next to the eggs. I refused it simply out of common sense. I hadn't eaten for several days, and anything too rich, or too much at one sitting would make me sick. I returned to his piano, waiting again for inspiration to strike.
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It was to my wonderful surprise and joy to find that when I returned, the omelet was gone. But the glass still remained half full of milk. So I replaced it with a glass of water, which I later noticed he had drank outside of my sight. It gave me great joy that he was eating again. Perhaps this might be the beginning of the end of his solitary depression. I hardly concealed my glee that entire day. I simply couldn't be still!
I wrapped a shawl around my shoulders and went outside. The wind shifted through the trees ever so gently, nice and peaceful, relaxing. Today will be a good day, I thought to myself, picking a couple apples from the tree out front, yes, it should be a very good day. I hummed and sang and danced about outside and in the kitchen. It was very silly of me, but I was a child then, and thought little of such things…
When I returned inside I sliced a small pie up that I had bought the day before and left a piece of it on the table for Father, smiling lightly as I did so. I silently went upstairs and read for a while. The previous owner, an old scholar whose family had sold the house thoughtlessly after he moved away for his diminishing health, had left behind the library and the house, in astonishingly good care. I never found out how my father had acquired it exactly, to my knowledge, he had had no money to speak of until he had resided at the Opera Populaire. But however we had received it, I was glad we had. The library ran almost the full length of the house, wall to wall and floor to ceiling with books of all genres and types. It kept me sane in those silent afternoons, and I frequently fell asleep within its depths. I read a little before returning downstairs for my supper and pie. Then I retired for the night. A few hours later I woke to the sound of his voice again. I almost shrieked with delight. It hadn't been a dream! I quietly slipped on my robe and went downstairs.
Thanks for Reading! I'll try to get the next one up fairly soon this time!! Review!!