Gone

My fingers fumbled nervously over the keys of the piano as I look out at the audience. Every single pair of eyes that were staring up at me seemed to have a look of judgment in their eyes, almost like they were begging for me to screw up. I swallow, trying to clear my head of any negative thoughts.

I have to get this right. It’s my first night performing, and I can’t screw up or Danny will fire me for good this time. I clear my throat weakly, placing my fingers professionally on the keys.

I try to calm my pounding heart, relaxing my hands on the piano. I try to imagine myself at home in my foyer, playing the music I love alone; no distractions and no interruptions. No one was there watching. No one was there to judge and dictate. I smile at this thought, picturing the different notes in my head.

I reopen my eyes from when I had closed them, looking down as my fingers begin to softly play the notes of one of my favorite songs. I grin at my success.

I look back up, no longer feeling queasy about all these people looking on. I take in all the faces, beaming with pride. And when I look off to the side of the stage to my right, my face suddenly droops.

I was nervous once again.

My fingers become unstable, hitting the wrong notes at the wrong time. I swallow as I try to get back into what I was doing before, but I couldn’t remember where my place had been.

What key is this song in? I desperately scramble for my footing again.

Why is here? How did he find me? I try to keep my eyes from flicking over there, because it was very tempting. I try to gather my thoughts.

I hear the audience gasp as I stumble over the music.

My heart pounded as I flick my wrist back and forth, attempting to find my place in the song. But I was painfully aware of his eyes staring at me, the way they did back when we were together. My breathing became labored.

Finally, I just pick a spot in the music, focusing back in on the smooth black and white keys. I run my hands over them, getting the feel before returning to playing. The audience relaxes.

Throughout the rest of my time onstage, I couldn’t help but feel this gravitational pull to the side of the stage where he stood, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched me. And when I was done, and I stood to bow as the crowd clapped and whooped, I wanted so badly to run over and demand he tell me why he was here.

But instead, I exit off the other side and walk straight back toward the bar of the fancy country club, where I usually worked my normal hours. I round behind the counter, tying the red apron around my waist.

A lady with curly white hair and wrinkles that sunk into her face walks up to the maroon counter, setting her violet periwinkle purse on top of it.

“Hello, ma’am,” I smile warmly. “Can I get you anything?”

She smiles back. “No. I don’t want anything. I was just about to head out, actually.” She pulls out a cherry red wallet, taking out a bill. “Here. Go buy yourself something nice. You’re wonderful player.”

She crunches the paper into my hand, grins again, then picks up her purse and walks away. I look down, opening my palm up, to see a 50 dollar bill.

My eyes widen. Someone really thinks I’m that good? Am I really better than I think? Has the faith and hope I’ve been searching for finally found me? But then another thought occurred to me: Could this be pity or sympathy money for how I had screwed up? How I fucked it all up because of him?

I fold the paper in half and stick it in my back pocket, shaking my head.

God, why am I being so pessimistic?

I just need to get over him. Hasn’t that what I’ve been trying to do for a whole year now? A shudder rolls down my spine like an ice cube, causing my skin to shiver uncontrollably.

“Hey.”

I practically jump three feet in the air, my heart clambering up to almost 100 miles a minute. When I finally felt calm again, I look over to where the voice had come from. My breath hitches in my throat, and I began choking on the air in front of me. I cough, hitting my chest to stop.

When I was done with my hyperventilating, I take a deep breath, but it still felt shaky. “What are you doing here, Matt?” I question, my mouth now dry. I tried to swallow to get rid of it, but it seemed immune.

He smiles wryly. “I didn’t hunt you down, Hanna. My band is here for a tour date. And I heard there was a piano performance tonight.”

“So you just…assumed it was me who was playing?” I raise an eyebrow.

“No,” he shakes his head, running a hand over his dark, spiky hair. I bite my bottom lip, remembering how I used to love it when he did that. “But I thought of you. You’ve been in love with the piano since you were seven. So whenever I hear about that instrument, your face pops into my mind.”

I don’t answer; just run my eyes over his face, analyzing it. He doesn’t look all that different, just some stubble over his jaw and chin, and an earring in one of his ears. But all I know, he’s the same boy I fell for two years ago.

“That’s nice,” I respond flatly, turning back to the counter. I take out a bottle of wine, setting it on the counter. I place two glasses beside it, pulling the cork. Matt watches me quietly, his eyes boring into my back.

I pour wine into both glasses, watching as the thick liquid fills each. I put the bottle back under the bar after I was done.

I hand Matt a glass, taking a sip from my own. “Okay,” I say, looking him straight in the eyes. “Why are you here, Matthew?” His brows wrinkle together. “Why didn’t you just leave me alone? I mean, wasn’t it obvious I didn’t want to speak to you anymore after the last time we saw each other?”

He stays mute, just staring down at his glass. I tip my head to the side, watching on as he thinks everything over. I can remember that that face was always hard to say no to, and it still is. He has the affect on me.

“I know how things ended between us,” he replies quietly. “But I wanted to apologize for everything. It wasn’t right how it was all put off.”

“Of course it wasn’t, Matt,” I hiss. “You fucking cheated on me with Chrissy Barnes! Do you know what she did to me? Besides sleep with you? She made me life a fucking bitch in school and you knew I hated her. You knew she was the last person I ever wanted to see again. And then she took you from me. How did you think I would react, Matt?"

Matt sighs, shaking his head. “Chrissy Barnes meant nothing to me, Hanna. And you should know that. She cornered me, and I got caught up in the moment! It is partly not my fault.”

“Oh,” I scoff. “That makes it all better, to know it wasn't partly your fault.”

His mouth turns into a tight line. Matt and I didn’t have the healthiest break-up. I threw things, they hit him. I cried, he cried. I shoved him out my door, he fell. And I moved the following week. Left him in Maryland, driving out to Chicago. I moved on.

“I think you should go now,” I say quietly, setting my wine glass down.

He doesn’t move, just staring at me.

“Is that what you want?” he asks, pushing away from his leaning position against the bar. “Do you want me to walk out right now, never to see me again?” My throat runs dry. “Are you sure you won't regret leaving me? Not admitting that you still love me?"

I slam my hand against the bar a little too loudly. “You think I still have feelings for you?” I laugh bitterly. “You are surely mistaken.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie, Hanna. You and I both know that it is hard to get over someone you dated for two years.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “That isn’t the easiest thing to do.”

I take a deep breath, clenching my jaw. “Just. Leave. Matt.”

He clenches his jaw. “Fine. I’ll go.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward the door. He turns the handle, his head whipping around to look back at me. I raise an eyebrow in return, and he sighs heavily. He walks outside, finally closing the door behind him.

I thought I would have felt happy that he was finally gone but I actually felt…nothing. Or…what I wish was nothing. My stomach seemed to have tightened like I was upset that Matt had left. I thought that was what I wanted, right? He did a terrible thing, and I might never be able to forgive him. So…why do I feel like he just abandoned me? I was the who abandoned him. I shouldn't be feeling remorse.

I look over the bar, surveying all the people that came on this Friday night. A new person was now playing piano onstage, some person I don’t know.

Is this what I want my life to be like? Getting paid two dollars an hour at a job I hate, and playing piano every Friday night and screwing up? That doesn’t sound like a life to me. The only reason I work here is to try and pay the bills.

I rip the apron from around my waist, throwing it on top of the bar.

I grab my jacket from under the counter and throw it on hurriedly. I run out of the door, looking left and right. “Shit!” I swear out loud. Where could Matt have gone off to in only the two minutes I was in there thinking?

I decided to take a right, hoping for sheer luck, and start sprinting down the sidewalk. I look everywhere, not seeing a single person outside.

I groan and plop down on the curb in frustration.

And it wasn’t along until I saw someone walking along the sidewalk across the street. I stand up, squinting to try and see who it was since the only light was the street lamps. My heart burst when I realize who it was. I run over, stopping in front of Matt.

His eyes widen when he sees me, but I don’t let him speak and immediately attach our lips. Instinctively, my arms go around his neck as his curl around my waist.

We pull apart moments later to catch out breath. “Wow,” Matt breathes shallowly. “What…what the hell brought that on?”

I grin, playing with the ends of his hair. “I’ll tell you later.” I pull his head back to mine, devouring his lips. It feels so good to kiss him again. And just doing it makes me forget why even broke up with him. Why I even upped and left, why I was gone for that whole year. And it feels nice to know he is sorry for what he did, and that he still loves me.

Matt pulls back once again. “Calm down, Hanna,” he laughs. “Before you completely kill my face, can I please ask why you suddenly changed your mind? You seemed pretty reluctant at the bar.”

I smile. “I thought about how my life had gone downhill after we broke up,” I kiss him softly. “And I don’t want that anymore. I want you.”

He grins, holding me close to him. “Good answer.”