Melody's Muse ✓

14. Rachmaninoff - Moment Musicaux, Op. 16 No. 4.

Melody

It's bright. So goddamn bright. I squint as I slowly peel my stinging eyes open, and the translucent white canopy above my bed comes into focus. Even the tiniest of movements send pounding waves of pain through my head. My aching muscles protest as I crawl out of bed, and I manage to stand up for a couple of seconds before the contents of my stomach decide to evict themselves.

I find myself slumped against the bathroom sink's cabinet, sitting on the cool tile floor next to my reliable friend, the toilet. I groan as I pull myself up, tightly gripping onto the counter. Avoiding looking at my disastrous appearance in the mirror, I rinse my mouth and take a pain reliever before hopping into a warm shower. If this is what I missed out on as part of the, "college experience," I don't have any regrets.

Along with the water, a wash of dread rushes over me as the previous night's events replay in my head. I groan and squeeze my eyes shut, resting my forehead against the smooth tiled wall. I was such an idiot in front of Cole.

Another thought bothers me though, why do I care so much about what he thinks?

-----

"Good afternoon Ms. Aria." Mr. Carter glances up at me from his newspaper.

"Hi," I mumble, trudging into the living room. I squint a bit, the floor to ceiling windows let in way too much light.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something by the fireplace. It's big and rectangular, and thickly wrapped in bubble wrap and Styrofoam.

I can tell Mr. Carter's trying to hide a smile. I warily raise an eyebrow and gesture towards it. "You were online shopping last night on the drive back," he explains. "Your mother called this morning and was not very happy about the charge she saw on the credit card."

As if today could get any worse. My splitting headache pounds in my ears as I cautiously head over to the package. I furrow my brows and carefully start peeling off the layers of protection. My eyes widen when I've peeled off the last layer of plastic.

"I bought a piano?!"

He chuckles. "Yes, you even paid extra for one day delivery."

"Why didn't you stop me?" I groan and collapse onto the soft leather armchair across from him. I guess it could be worse, at least it's an upright piano and not a grand.

"Well, you threatened to bite me if I took your phone away," he laughs. "Do you know what you want to do with it?"

I place my elbow on the armrest and rest my chin on my palm. I'm definitely not going to pack it up and mail it back to California - I already have three unnecessarily lavish pianos at home. Two of which have been collecting dust for years. Metaphorically speaking, of course. The cleaners keep it polished and spotless. I only ever use the one in my room where I can work alone in peace.

"I don't want to go through the hassle of returning it. Maybe I could donate it to a local music school?" I suggest.

Mr. Carter gives me a proud smile. "That's a wonderful idea Ms. Aria. Anyways, I'll help reheat your lunch now." He stands up and folds his newspaper, laying it neatly back down on top of a stack of magazines. He looks at his watch and pauses. "Err, or dinner I suppose."

-----

"Oh my god," I groan, burying my face in my hand. I drop my spoon back into my bowl of chicken noodle soup again with a loud clank. I want the ground to open up and swallow me, as Mr. Carter recalls how pleasant I was on the way home last night.