Along The Way

Chapter 6 - When I Tell Myself to Draw the Line

- Present -

| Charlote |

WHOEVER SAID MUSIC unlocked the door of nostalgia knew what he was talking about. My fingers skimmed lightly over the cool piano keys relishing on the feel of them beneath my hands. My Yamaha YDP143R had been my first and best companion ever since I was twelve years old. Not taking it with me as I left for Wisconsin was one of the hardest things I ever did.

It'd seemed wrong somehow. To leave him back here. We'd been through so much together. Conquered so many battles. It felt like part of me. An extension of my body. It had been my outlet when I went through my treatment, it had stayed firm through my therapy, it had been there when I fell in love. It was only fair it shared my heartache too. But it had been too much trouble to carry it across the country when my aunt had a perfectly good piano where I could keep practicing.

So now my affections were divided. This piano had gone with me through my sickness, learned my deepest fears, helped me cope with the threat of death, experienced my first romantic feelings, watched me blossom and pour all my happiness and love on each note.

Whereas my aunt's piano bore the painful side, the loss, the pain, the shame, but also the awakening. It accompanied me as I found myself, as I learned to channel all those emotions to create something good. Something new. Something other people would also be able to connect with.

The stool scrapped against the floor as I pulled it from under the keyboard and sat down on it. I closed my eyes as the memories came flooding into my brain.

I could almost sense Dylan right here. In this room. Sitting on the edge of my bed, listening to me play. If I closed my eyes hard enough I could smell his after shave, feel the weight of his gaze fixed on my face.

I never thought I'd be able to turn words into notes, feelings into chords. Fate has a way of twisting things around though. If anyone knew that, it was me.

Colors, shapes and figures danced behind my closed lids teasing me, taunting me. The memories of that afternoon in my room. I'd accepted long ago I'd probably never get over him. Just the distant memory of his touch made me feel like Jell-O.

It wasn't as if I hadn't looked around, hoping some other guy could eclipse everything I ever had with him. I couldn't help but measure every guy to him though. And they always came up lacking. Part of it could be we'd never had any closure over everything that led up to our breakup. It had all been so abrupt, as if severing all our ties with  a blade. Swift and clean.

Though I knew my greatest mistake had been opening up to him. It was after that when I'd started noticing something was off.

I squeezed my eyes tight as a dull pain pierced my head. Jet lag was never my friend. The exertion  of the last couple hours started to weigh down on me. My muscles felt tired and weary. So much so that I couldn't even master playing one song for old times sake.

The wide bed in the center of the room called to me with promises of comfort.

I searched my backpack for my meds, taking two pills and draining them with a glass of water to calm the growing ache at my temples.

One would think I'd have gotten used to it by now.

But lately the headaches had gotten more intense, or my body had developed a tolerance for the medication. The latest would mean a visit to the doctor to get a new prescription for a higher dose. The former could mean many different things I didn't want to stop and analyze.

None of the options was favorable though, and that's what scared me most.

I wished I could speak with my mom or Ryan, but I was tired of always causing tears and distress. My family had never been good at hiding their feelings from me. It was another reason why I sought company on music.