Chapter 8: Yellow Bird, Lonely Boy and Piano Girl

Every night, now, yellow bird, lonely boy and piano girl invade my dreams. Do they even wait for me to fall asleep before showing up in my head? I do not know anymore. It seems that even while awake, they inhabit the shadows of my subconscious. Drawing me deeper, and deeper into their world.

Piano girl is always first. Always playing the piano. Pulling the strings of my heart. I want to hold her, to hug her, to tell her everything is going to be alright.

I want to share her pain.

Take her pain.

Free her from her pain. The heaviness with which she strikes the keys on her baby grand piano pulls the curtain of darkness deeper and deeper into my soul.

The notes slice through my body like razor blades.

The hurt is real.

Every cell of my body is insatiably tormented.

But I don’t run away. I don’t even try to avoid it. I allow my heart to bleed out.

I let all my anguish devour me and surrender to my demise.

And while her music kills me, I feel more alive then ever.

She matters. I matter. And we matter to each other.

So, I let her stab me with her music.

And she plays, just for me, tirelessly, the same song, over and over again.

Still, a precipice stands between us. Always she eludes me. I can never get close to her. I can never rest my hand on her shoulder. Always a step a head of me, all I can do is stare at her from the back.

Then I see a picturebook on the coffee table. The wind riffles the pages.

The music stops.

The girl is gone.

I pick up the book.

A sustained wind now fills my ears.

I barely hear a yellow bird singing in a tree.

I can feel the wind on my face and on my arms.

I stand outside a beautiful house surrounded by planted fields.

All around me nature grows.

It’s a sunny day. The sun blinds me. I extend my arm to shade my eyes.

In the distance, I can hardly make out the silhouette of a small boy. He stands, alone, by the front door. He is staring straight at me.

I stare back.

Who are you? I wonder.

He doesn’t look familiar. But he feels like a part of me.

Am I looking at myself? No, that is impossible. The boy I see is not me.

I stare and stare until the sun burns my retinas. I am afraid of blinking. I grasp onto this image. I can’t let it go.

A man comes out. I can see him talk to the young boy.

Night after night, I try to get closer.

What are they talking about?

The wind covers their voices. The wind covers their words. I hold on to the image. I hold on…

I run. I know the dream is about to end.

It always does.

Don’t go. Not yet. Please!

I want to see the little boy. I want to tell him: “I’m here! You are not alone.”

I run.

I run through the field separating us.

The man goes back inside.

My time is almost up. I run faster.

The lonely boy stares at me. He’s waiting for me, I know it! I run as fast as I can. I am close. Oh, so close. I extend my arm. I reach out for the little boy. He does the same. Our fingers almost meet. Our hands just barely brush each other, and he’s gone.

I am no longer in a field. I am in a dark hallway.

This is new.

I’ve never been here before.

The air is stale. Hot. Humid. I run. I am running away from something. I am holding my right wrist. I keep on running. The hallway seems never ending. My heart skips a beat. I have to get out of here.

I am wide awake, covered in sweat. My head is hurting. It’s the middle of the night. I open my window, a rush of cold air hits me in the face. I pull the picturebook from under my bed. I lift the cover.

Lianna? Is that you?

I look at the handwriting. It’s messy. It’s childish. It’s beautiful.

I put the book away. I make my way down to the kitchen. I need a drink. Something strong. Something to give me back my senses.

It’s the middle of the night so I am surprised to see light coming from the kitchen. Fiori and Hana are sitting in the far corner. Moonlight through the window dots on them a bluish glow. Neither notice me. They are sitting across from each other. She’s holding a mug. I can smell the sweet scent of coffee in the room. She takes a sip. Softly. Slowly. Carelessly.

He has coffee too. He takes a mouthful.

They are both quiet.

In peace.

She whispers something to him.

He smiles.

She matters to him. I can tell.

A new feeling bubbles to the surface.

Jealousy.

I step back. I don’t want to ruin the moment. Peacefulness is a rare occurrence. The floor creaks as I walk away, but I disappear before they can see me. I shall not be seen, I shall not be heard, I shall be thankful for....

I walk back to my room, longing for a share of peacefulness and my own cup of coffee. My heart is still heavy. Who are you piano girl?

I drift back to sleep, hoping to see her again.