The notes on the page seemed a little more alive now. A little more real. This was more than just a song. Isobel knew that now. When she had first come across the song sheet, she knew it was important; now, she knew it was more than that - it was everything. And because she wanted everything, because she needed to know and understand everything, she had lost something, or rather someone.
She held the paper in her trembling hand. And though her only impression of the song was that of her own interpretation, she couldn't imagine anything more beautiful. She recited the words over and over, as she stared up at the title above. The words 'Julia's Song' were inscribed in black ink.
It had been two weeks since she had seen Harold, but to Isobel, it felt like months. The very thought of it saddened her. "This is stupid," she said aloud, as she shook her head in frustration. "It hasn't even been that long. And he's just my neighbour. I didn't know him before, and I was fine. So, why is it bothering me so much now?"
Isobel placed the sheet down on her dresser and plopped herself on the bed. As she laid there, she felt a sense of discomfort. She tossed and turned and slammed her body over and over onto her mattress. Despite her efforts, there was no change. She felt the same.
Isobel slowly sat up, her mind in a daze. As she ran her hands through her curly hair, she knew her discomfort had nothing to do with the bed. She stood up and walked back to the dresser. The music sheet pulled her in as if it had a voice of its own, crying for someone to play it to life.
Sheet in hand, Isobel began to tremble. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "This is silly. It's just me. There is no one else around. I can do this," she said softly.
Isobel opened her eyes and stared at the notes and lyrics on the page. As she read them over and over, she began to quietly hum. However, despite her best efforts, she never could quite get the melody right. Every so often, she would pause, unsure if what she was doing was right. It felt as if her humming was an injustice to Harold's work.
Isobel paced around her room. With every hiccup, she stopped and started from the beginning. She was determined to get it right. Not for the sake of justice, but for the sake of beauty. She wanted to breathe life into it once more; anything this beautiful, she thought, needs to be part of this world-- even for just a moment.
YOU ARE READING
Death and Tea at Three
General FictionSince Julia's passing, Harold had been feeling like he didn't have much to live for. He's a retired music teacher with no wife, no children, no purpose. He's not suicidal - in fact, as much as he is ready to die, the thought of taking his own life s...
