Reality's Escape: a collection of short stories

The Piano

I sighed. My shimmering emerald dress might have been nice for the pianist at the formal charity ball, but it did not suit a forest trail. If I had gone out the front door, though, I would have had to face the paparazzi waiting for me. This back door escape to my home was a place I frequented. No one else knew about this path other than my best friend (who owned the hall I just left) so I jumped when I heard a piano being played nearby. I must really have been playing too much lately.
The music floated brought the forest. It seemed to be coming from behind a wall of ivy- a lush green curtain that I had never dared to pass as a child. I had always been afraid that what was beyond would not fulfil what my daydreams had painted. But now, I reached out, pushed back a mass of the vines and stepped through.
What I saw surpassed all of my juvenile imaginations. The entire "room" was shrouded by walls of ivy, and my bare feet (I had long since carried my shoes) were almost buried in the thick, soft moss. A shattered mirror lay on its side to my left.
All of this I realized in a second, until the centrepiece captured my attention. A gorgeous mahogany grand piano stood almost in the centre of the glen, and a man in a dark grey suit sat at the piano.
He stood up suddenly when I entered, knocking the piano stool to the ground. "How did you find me?"
"What do you mean?" I asked, thoroughly confused. "I wasn't looking for you."
He grinned slightly. "I'm sorry. I just used to the media sneaking up on me, and I thought maybe you were a reporter."
"I'm not," I replied. The silence turned awkward. "Um, do you want me to leave you alone?" This was obviously a private place.
"It's all right," he said. "It's not my land, anyways."
I was still confused. "It's mine."
"So I guess you want me to leave, then?"
"You don't have to." This glen was obviously sentimental. "What is this place?"
He righted the piano stool, then sighed. "It used to be my mom's favourite place."
"Oh."
He seemed uncomfortable with the present subject, and changed it. "Say, didn't you play the piano at the charity ball this evening?"
"Yes, I did. I didn't see you there, though."
"I kept out of sight."
"Why?"
"I didn't want to be seen."
The silence stretched on, so I had to say something. "I don't prefer big crowds, myself."
"It's not the crowds that bother me," he replied. "It's the crowd's reaction to me that is the issue."
"I don't know who you are."
"Maybe I should keep it that way," he grinned slightly. "I'm Marcus Tenner."
I gasped. "As in, Maria Tenner's son?"
He nodded, and I could see that I had had given the reaction he dreaded. I couldn't help it- Maria had been an incredible pianist.
"Sorry," I said quickly. "Say, what were you playing before I interrupted you?"
"The piano?"
I laughed. "Which piece?"
"I don't know- it was my dad's favourite."
I used the pause to study him while he studied the moss at our feet. He was about six feet tall, but not too broad. His eyes were a sharp grey, his hair was a dark brown, and his beard was close shaven. He looked to be about twenty two, four years older than I.
He looked up and caught my gaze.
"I guess I'll leave, then," he said.
I caught the sense that he was reluctant to leave this place, but it was awkward with me here. "It's all right," I said. " I don't mind if you come back, I only use this trail when I'm escaping from the hall."
"It's all right," he said. "If this is your land, I won't return." He turned, parted the wall of ivy, and disappeared through it without another word.
I was left alone in the sacred area.