Where words fail, music always speaks. If it doesn’t speak in so many words, it speaks in feelings. Feelings you can’t describe because the music takes you there. After I had tuned my violin from playing earlier, I heard the sound of the piano in the far distance. I couldn’t resist playing along. As I got louder and more fervent, so did the sound of the piano. It’s as if we created a dance, but not actually dancing together. Only in the far distance between us. Honestly though, I feel as I just had an orgasm and need a minute to breathe. Unsure where the sound came from, I look forward to playing with mystery person again. The welcoming sound had me hooked. It’s as if we made love with our music.
“That was beautiful,” Rosa comes out of the kitchen as I stand by the patio door frozen in time staring at the rain pouring down outside.
“I don’t know what that was, Rosa. It’s as if someone out there invited me in not knowing who I am,” I don’t know any other way to explain it.
“Whatever it was, honey, it was beautiful,” I smile and agree with her.
Placing my violin back in the case, “how’s dad?” I help her clean the kitchen.
“He’s resting I think,” she’s wiping the counter as I put up the dishes she had pulled out of the dishwasher.
“I hope he feels better soon.”
“When are you going back to your apartment?” she worries about me.
“Probably this weekend, but that depends how dad feels, maybe he needs me.”
“Honey, knowing your father, he will probably go back to work next week. He’s not one to stop,” she has a valid point.
At the local shop late afternoon, I shop for some snacks for my father Rosa refuses to buy for him, “They are not good for his heart,” she always jokes, even before he had his heart attack. Clearly, straying away those snacks didn’t cause him any harm, I’m sure it was stressed. So, to linger his heart and make my father smile, I buy all those cookies and chips Rosa is absolutely against. Good thing she’s neither my mother nor his wife to stop us. My father’s heart is as good as the happiness makes him feel. I don’t worry too much.
I twist and turn the cart as I listen to the music from the speakers above understanding every lyric to sing along. I’m so zoned out, I don’t even here the thud from two shopping carts colliding, barely recognizing it as I feel the cart push into me. “I’m so sorry,” a voice says but I shrug it off with no care in the world, “It’s okay,” I say without even knowing if it was my fault or not.
“Hey, aren’t you my mother’s neighbor I helped the other day?” a recognizable voice says.
Twisting and turning my body into his direction, away from the cookies I couldn’t decide which to buy, I smile at him, “Oh hey, yeah. Thank you so much for helping me the other day. Those bags just suck, next time I’ll bring my own,” I laugh.
“Oh, like they’re forced to in California?” he snorts.
“Excuse me?” I’m beyond confused.
“Never mind. So, Melody, was it?” either he has good memory or, well, I don’t know.
“Yeah, umm, forgive me,” I can’t believe I actually did forget this name, then again, I’m really bad with names.
“Elliot, Elliot Harper,”
“Well, Elliot Harper, it was nice running into you again, I have to find a pack of cookies for my dad and can’t choose which,” I turn my head back to the oodles of choices of cookies.
When did we go from Chips Ahoy and Oreos to these many choices? And to top it off, each of those brands is filled with choices. Do I want double stuffed Oreos? Pop Rock Oreos? Mint? Regular? What’s with the many choices? When I was a kid I loved Chips Ahoy, the regular blue pack, but once they came out with the chewy, I was hooked. I admit, I’ve eaten an entire pack during one movie. You know how you sit there and eat one after the other sucked into the movie not realizing how many you’ve actually already eaten. Time just consumes you.
“Well, if I can make a recommendation, chewy Chips Ahoy are my favorite,” he smiles as he hands me the red packaging and places it into my hand, “but don’t go off what I say,” and starts to walk away.
“Elliot Harper, I think you’re my soul mate,” I kid.
“Could be,” turning around he gives me a small glimpse of a wink as he disappears from the isle.
Too bad I have no desire to meet any guy at the moment or I’d be smitten by him. I have this fantasy of a sweet, romantic, sexy guy to sweep me off my feet. A gentleman, who knows exactly how to treat a woman. Someone I can rely on day and night, someone that will be there for me for support, someone that understands my passion for music, someone that I can see myself with knowing damn well he’d never leave me. Someone like that however, doesn’t exist anymore. They’re few-a-dozen when they do and most of them are already taken. I’m too conservative for most men this generation. I’m not saying I’m expecting to be in the kitchen while he earns the money, but there are a few values from generations ago I still think should be implemented. Nothing wrong with caring for the man and in return he does the same.
“Twenty dollars,” the cashier asks as I’ve bought maybe a few packs too many cookies, but I really don’t care.
Grabbing my two little bags I head out of the store. In my thoughts I’m already home, but I regret not paying any attention to the road I was crossing. It was nearly too late.