Not Alone

I collect the cord and mower, bid goodbye to Pearl and receive her thanks, then head home all to the glorious solo violin soundtrack coming from the open window. The music continues to move my soul in ways so deep and so personal it was as if somebody had hooked a speaker up to the most private parts of my soul. I’d never been a particularly religious man but by GOD did Mia’s playing make me a believer in something beyond this realm of flesh and earth. When I come back out front after putting the mower away I find a trio of picnickers from the park had come closer to hear the divine melody. I give them a polite smile and a nod and in return they make gestures toward the house to express their awe at what we were hearing.

Not wanting to interrupt the music I slip quietly through the front door. The volume rises as I no longer had anything but space between me and the source of the sound. Sitting in a chair pulled back from the dining table Mia sat with her eyes clamped shut in a look of supreme concentration. Though she was focused her pretty face expressed every mournful and agonized emotion of the sweeping notes. I stand perfectly still not wanting to make a single noise that might mar this otherwise flawless masterpiece. But I soon learn that one man’s masterpiece is another woman’s junk.

Mia is playing stunning crescendo of rapid changes and double notes, her bow a blur as it dances across the strings, when all once her face flinches as if wounded by the sound and the music stops. She takes a hard breath, furrows her brows, and rewinds to start again at the beginning of where the music rose. To my ear not a note was off and yet again she hits the zenith and cuts it off to start again…and again…and again. Her expression begins in anger, anger at herself, but with each failed attempt I could watch her doubts and fears materialize in her face and body language. And with each try the music falters more until even I could hear how the tune that had once flowed so freely became rigid and mechanical. The bow that had danced just minutes ago now cut against the strings like a hacksaw.

“HAH!” The music halts as she lets out a pained gasp and throws the bow like it had burned her hand. As it skitters to a stop at my feet she opens her eyes and lets out startled peep as she sees that she is not alone. “Oh!”

Bending down I gently pick up the delicate bow. “You dropped this.”

Mia’s panicked green eyes cast about the room as if she were just waking from a deep sleep in an unfamiliar place then quickly snap back to me. “Elliot!”

I walk up to her and offer her the bow. She takes it then immediately spins away from me, her head bowed in humiliation. After a long pause she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Mia.” I say softly. “That was beautiful.”

She nods stiffly without looking back. “That’s very kind of you, Sir.”

Very delicately I lay a hand over her shoulder. “You have a gift.” I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze then move past her to the kitchen beyond. She was in a fragile state and I wanted to comfort her but we didn’t know each other well so I didn’t want to overstep my bounds. “Hey, any of that lemonade left?”

“Yeah.” She says with a relieved breath, grateful not to have to linger on what had just happened. “In the fridge.”

“You want one?”

“No thank you.”

I put some fresh ice in my glass and pour myself a tall drink, only to drain half of it right away and fill it again. “Ahhh.” I sigh as my thirst is quenched. Sitting across from Mia I lean back and wipe my sweaty brow. “Gettin warm out there.”

“Um, yeah.” She says meekly, her head down. Though it is subtle I catch her nostril flaring slightly on each intake of breath. She was taking in my scent just like her auntie did.

Nodding to the window I say. “You attracted quite an audience out there.”

“Oh!”

“When Lily told me how good you were I thought she was exaggerating. If anything she understated it. You’re amazing Mia!”

“No.” She shakes her head, her fingers fiddling with her instrument. “I’m not. I can be better. I have so much left to learn.”

With my glass in my hand I point across at her. “That sounds like Rebecca talking.”

Her eyes dart up to meet mine…then right back down again. “Mother wants the best for me. She…demands the best. She says I could be…great, as long as I work hard enough.”

“Well I’m no expert but I think you’re already great.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Mia.” I smile and lean closer. “What’s this Sir stuff? I’m only a few years older than you.”

“I’m sor…”

“It’s cool. You don’t need to apologize.” I say. “If it makes you feel better, do it. I’m just not used to it is all.”

“Thank you, Sir.” After a long breath her tense shoulders relax. She puts her violin and bow away and closes up the case. Folding her hands across her lap in a most lady-like way she looks at me again, this time forcing herself to hold eye-contact. “Elliot?”

“Yeah?”

“When you said…you have those nights too, what did you mean?”

“Huh?” I think a moment. “Oh, right. I just meant I’ve had sleepless nights. Everyone gets them sometimes. It’s normal.”

“Oh.” She nods and bows her head, almost seeming disappointed by my answer. “You’re right. It’s normal. I’m glad you’re so understanding.”

“Yeah.” As I study Mia I hear a muffled little voice from deep inside of me, buried beneath layers of cope, distraction and denial. Like a light coming on in a dark room the real meaning of her question is illuminated. After a slow sip I say softly. “I know…those dreams. I still get them sometimes. I can see my Mom and Dad like they’re right there. Right there.” Mia sits motionless, not even breathing. “I can hear them. Smell them. I can feel them with me.”

“Yes.” She says, her voice hushed.

My face flinches as a pang of a familiar hurt pierces my heart. “And then I wake up.”

“And you’re alone. All alone.”

“Mm.” I nod as dormant emotions stir to life. “And it hurts so fuckin bad all over.”

Reaching across the table Mia takes my hand. “Do you get scared?”

“Every time.” I say.

Shifting closer, her weight leaning against the table, she squeezes my hand harder. “And then…then…then you’re not alone. You’re not alone!”

“Hm?” I look up to see her eyes wide with terror.

“It’s the devil.” She whispers with a fearful tremor. “He’s come to collect you!”

My grip tightens around her hand. Up until now our experience as orphans were similar but with the appearance of Lucifer our paths diverged. God! The thought of some fearsome figure visiting me in those fragile, exposed moments right after reliving the loss of my parents chills me to the bone.

“You weren’t supposed to live.” Mia continues with haunted eyes. “You were supposed to go with them. He’s come back to make it right!”

“No.” I shake my head. “We were supposed to stay, Mia. We need to stay. It’s what they wanted.”

“But…” Her voice trembles as she verges on tears. Closing her eyes she takes another deep breath to settle herself. “You’re right. He can’t win. We have to run and hide and stay ahead of him. Always. Always.”

“That’s right, Mia.”

After another steadying breath she opens her eyes again. “Sorry.”

“It’s good to be able to open up with somebody who understands.”

She nods and reluctantly lets my hand slip from hers. “My family tries really hard but…they don’t know what it’s like. Auntie Heather’s the closest but…”

“It’s not the same.” I say. “Hey, at least we have each other to confide in now. Right?”

“Yeah.” Her voice lifts with hope. “Yeah.

“And maybe, I don’t know, maybe having an Angel around might help keep that asshole devil at bay.” I say. “What do ya think?”

Her face continues to brighten until the hint of a smile appears. “It certainly couldn’t hurt!”

“There ya go.” I slap the table. “You see that nasty old demon and you send him my way. I’ll send him straight back to hell for ya.”

“He he he!” Her bashful giggles are a pure delight. “I bet you would too! Like you sent that thief running from Heather’s shop.”

“Not exactly like that.” I say, recalling how the shoplifter had left me lying in the alley after our scuffle. “But if he messes with any of MY ladies? He’ll get a dose of angelic whoop-ass he won’t soon forget.”

“Ha ha ha! You really are the hero Heather talks about.” She says. Taking my hand again she gives it another squeeze. “I’m so happy you’ve joined us, Sir.”

“Me too, Mia.” I grin. “Me too.”