My Nightmare

I heard music. Not just normal music, but this was mournful poetry to sound. The piano with it's rising and falling crescendo, mixed with an almost pitiful wailing song. The music was beautiful. I checked my ipod, to see that it was off.

If this music wasn't coming from me, then where?

I followed the music. It was only logical- the sound was my siren, and I could only follow.

...The palm trees swaying in the wind...images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes...
Clever trick...

I arrived at the music room- unsurprisingly, because it was the only room in the school with a piano. However, what I saw in there did surprise me.

My girlfriend. She was playing the piano, singing, and crying. I mentally laughed. She wasn't at school that day, but that doesn't give the excuse of hallucinating her.

It couldn't be her, I thought.

She didn't know how to play the piano- she claims that she doesn't even have a musical bone in her body.

But she can sing, I said to myself mentally.

And, her? Crying? She laughs at slasher flicks. She never cries.

But, as I came closer, I saw the resemblance. Her long red hair, her favourite navy sweater-thingy, and the perfect posture. It was her.

Realizing this, I ran towards her.

Stopping only a few feet away from her, I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Her face snapped around, her hair almost hitting me. I took in her tear streaked face, red eyes, and quavering bottom lip. I sat down at the piano bench with her.

"Oh. I didn't realize you were in the room." She said, her voice cracking in the middle. She slowly withdrew her hands from the ivory and black keys, and I noticed that they were scrubbed. Scrubbed, like, as in from iron wool.

I attempted a feeble smile. "I didn't know you could play the piano." I said weakly.

At this, her bottom lip was now quavering violently. "My mom tells me-" She stopped abruptly, her eyes filling up with tears again. "My mom told me that I should always keep one big secret. Just in case I needed to tell one in the future." She corrected herself.

I raised my eyebrows. "What do you mean? She's still alive."

At that, her hands began to shake violently, and I caught them in mine, holding them, holding her.

(Pov switch)

I love playing the piano. We have two in our attic: one, an old, magnificent grand piano, and another one that was electronic and sounds like everything. I sat at the bench, closing my eyes, but opening them as soon as I closed them again. From the back of my mind, a song began to play. Hesitantly putting my fingers on the keyboard, I started to play, singing the mournful tune. I tried blocking everything from my mind, until all I could picture was the melody of the song, and the lyrics. I was mostly through the song, until a hand was placed on my shoulder. Startled, I stopped singing abruptly, and whipped my head around.

I saw worried blue eyes, and for a half a second, I thought it was my sister. It wasn't. There he was, my boyfriend. His face was filled with concern.

God, I must look like a mess.

"Oh. I didn't realize you were in the room." I said, thinking back, not only a minute ago when I was playing, and so focused. Realizing this, I took my hands away from the keyboard, and he started to talk.

"I didn't know you could play the piano." He uttered.

Trying to hold back a fresh batch of tears that just kept on coming, I started, "My mom tells me-" I stopped, holding back pictures. "My mom told me that I should always keep one big secret. Just in case I needed to tell one in the future." I said, thinking back all the days that my mother whispered that in my ear when I was practing piano.

He raised his eyebrows, as if to tell me the first grammatical use was correct. "What do you mean? She's still alive."

As he stated the last word, I started crying; long, slow tears that slowly fell off my face, leaving puddles on my jeans. My hands began to shake, and he enveloped me in a warm hug.

"What happened?" he said soothingly.

My face safely over his shoulder, I started.

"We were going on a drive. Out for dinner- nothing in the fridge, finals were coming up, we didn't want to order pizza, but we wanted food. So we all piled into the car, at eight o'clock at night. I know, it was late, but we all had gotten back from swim practice, and had to do homework. Driving down the road, everything was fine. Until we reached the intersection of the country road, and where the first city road attaches to it. After stopping at the stop sign, we started up again, and we were arguing whether to go to the Mexican place, or something that had comfort food. I saw it first. I looked out the window, seeing those large, bright lights.

Then, the horn from it. It was a truck. It was coming."

Stopping, I tensed, remembering the awful bright lights. Sucking in a breath, I continued, the sick film forever caught in my head.

"There was a ear splitting crunch, and we were flipped over a couple times. I don't remember much about that, but now we were partially sideways and in a ditch, by the side of the road. All I could smell was blood, and iron...oh, the smell." He hugged me tighter, and I had to remember that I was here with him. Not back there.

"My older sister was right next to me. She was the worst thing I had ever seen in my entire life. My arm, neck, and head hurt, but I don't think I was seriously injured. I pulled out my phone, dialed 911, and only said the least amount of words possible: 'Intersection of county and Dane. There's been a car accident, and people are badly injured. Please help.' I left my phone open, not cancelling the call. In the background, the woman -the dispatcher, I would guess, or something like that- told me to stay on the line, and blah blah blah. When I looked back at my sister, I realized that she was bleeding profusely. I reached for her neck, to get a pulse, and there was only the faintest whisper of one. She looked up at me, and took off the ring that was on her finger." Halting, I let out a few chocked sobs.

Pulling back, I looked back into his face, and saw that his eyes were watery. Finally finding the courage to continue, I did.

"She told me that she loved me. Then she told me to tell the family that she loves them. Then, the last thing that came out of her mouth was 'tell my boyfriend I love him'. Beneath my hands, I could feel her slipping away. I didn't realize I was screaming until someone told me later. I knew I was certified in CPR, and started it. The blood on her chest was seeping between my fingers, and she was still warm to touch. I kept trying, and trying. Blood was on my shirt, hands, pants, everything. None of it was mine."

Breaking off, I buried my head into his shoulder again, unable to go on for a few minutes.

"Then the paramedics came. The flashing lights, the sirens. Ripping open the doors, they gently brought me away from the car, where someone started to load me into a truck, while asking questions, and flashing lights into my eyes. I remember a paramedic reaching for my older sister, only to realize that he couldn't help her. He still took her to the truck, were someone put her on a stretcher, and put a cloth over her face. It was only then when I saw something sharp, large, and metal protruding from her stomach. I turned away, and the truck lurched forward, and we started our speedy arrival to the hospital.

When we got there, I was taken to a small emergency room where someone gave me pain drugs, and a few stitches here and there. The person told me that my little sister was in surgery from internal bleeding, and my mom was still unconscious."

I chuckled bitterly.

"Then, he told me that he had good news, my father had just gotten by with a broken arm. When I was finally released, he told me to go to room number 319, where my mother currently was. I walked, and I saw people looking at me like I had the plague. They gave me a wide berth, and the elevator I had to myself. When I reached the room, there was my father, crying silent tears of pain, holding my mothers hand. My parents are crazy in love, and I knew it. But at that very moment, the love between them seemed so magical, like a fairy tale."

I released my arms around him, and now we were just sitting side by side on the piano, our hands just simply entwined. His hand gently clenched over mine- his fingers were crazy long, while mine were like a child's. Comforted my his thumb now drawing intricate patterns on my hand while holding it, a single tear ran down my face. He reached over and wiped it off with his free hand.

After about five minutes just watching them, my father's friend arrived with extra clothes for me, my dad, and my mom. The doctors let me use the shower, since obviously I couldn't go home and use one. When I had gotten back to the room, all the blood washed off and in clean clothes, I was faced with a surgeon giving news to my horror stricken father." I squeezed his hand.

"My younger sister died in surgery. The doctors told us that she had died in the car, when the bleeding from her organs had flooded her stomach. Her mind just needed some time to let go. The doctor left us, and my father and I hugged each other and cried. It was about two in the morning, when the doctor came again. We were hoping for some good news- but we couldn't really home. Well, I couldn't. I was just numb. I think if I tried to feel, I 'd collapse."

My voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "The doctor didn't have good news. My mother had been declared brain-dead. Y'know, a vegetable. A body, with no soul inside of it. It was awful. My dad turned ghost white, then the doctor asked what we were going to do with the body."

I hung my head, and continued the narrative. "My mother told me she used to work in a hospital, where she had to take care of baby vegetables. And she said it was the worst thing ever- functionally, they were the same, but they couldn't breathe on their own, eat, poop, you name it. I remembered that. As much I still wanted my mother, and have her with me, I knew that she'd be furious with me if I kept like that. I answered for my father- he was currently in the chair near the bed, holding my mother's hand, off key-singing their song, California Girls, by the Beach Boys."

He quizzically raised an eye brow.

I laughed. "It was playing the first time they had introduced themselves to each other."

He smiled, and remarked softly, "It seems kinda fitting."

My parents met a Berkley University, when my mom had transferred from NYU, and my dad just coming from his high school. I drummed my free hand against my thigh, tapping out a rhythm. "The doctor went over to my father and asked if it was okay if they could use my mother's body, because she was an organ donor. I knew they were going to take at least a couple hours, so I went to the adjoining room and slept in an empty bed. When I woke up, it was one in the afternoon. My mother's body was gone. I found my father in the same room, staring at the empty space that used to hold my mother. When I came over, he gave me her wedding ring."

I looked down at my right hand, fourth finger. There it was, the ring. I showed him.

"Now I have three rings to take care of: mine, my sister's, and my mother."

I looked at the ring that my mother had worn every day of her life that I had known her. It was gold, with a ruby the size of Texas in the middle, surrounded by twelve tiny diamonds spiraling out from it. Like my mother, it was beautiful, and just a little bit crazy. My sister's ring was a simple thing. It looked like four silver band weaving in and out of each other. It was given to her as a promise ring, from her long-term boyfriend.

"Then, he told me that he had to stay a few more hours to go over paperwork, and we were going to get a ride back home from his friend.

So I walked to school. I think it was because it was the closest place that I knew of that had a piano. But I didn't know that when I was walking here." I shrugged.

"Even though I didn't say goodbye to my mom, I don't think it was needed. I know she'll always be near." I wrinkled my forehead. "I've been here for about three hours, give or take. Every ten minutes or so, I have to wash my hands. They..." I shuddered. "I just can get feel of blood off them."

As if on cue, my hands started shaking, and seemed to be making me want to go to the nearest sink and scrub them again. Taking both of my small, quaking hands in his, he stared into my eyes.

"I'm sorry." He didn't say it like the people who would be attending the funeral: he was sincere. He didn't try to claim he understood, because, really, how could he?However, he could understand my grief, and be there to hold my hand. Even though it would be a long time coming, I would be okay.

"Now. Do you know how to play Comptine d'un autre été?" He asked, his hand playing the first notes on the keyboard.

My hand joined his, and played on. He smiled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

We played the song. I was like a newly hatched bird, unsure, and latching on to the closest thing, which happened to be him. I played not only out of grief, but out of love and remembrance. As our fingers flitted across the keyboard, sometimes they would meet, and an almost touchable energy sparked between us.

(fade out...)