‹ Prequel: Going Bush
Going Bush 2: Suburbia
69
Taylor was beginning to feel like the piano room was the safest room in the entire building. Constantly locked in alone, he didn’t have to worry about constantly pleasing anyone or keeping to himself. It was just him and the piano.
This first full day in the room he knew he’d finish restoring it to at the very least a playable state. So he took his time, enjoying the moments alone.
It was after dark when he heard the key turning in the lock and he looked up from playing with a hammer to see that Ibby had brought him something to eat. Having not eaten all day, relieved wasn’t quite the word he needed.
He greeted him halfway into the room, taking the plate and setting it on the floor. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts he began trying to work out a way to communicate with the man who appeared to be one of very few friends he had in this place.
He took hold of his collar, and tried to make the symbol of a gun with his hand. Ibby watched him carefully, knowing what he was trying to do. When Taylor couldn’t do any better than that Ibby paused for thought.
He soon made a similar hand gesture, this time making the sound of the bang that accompanied it.
“Yes,” Taylor nodded, hoping he was getting it.
He touched his collar again, reached over to touch Ibby’s, and then made the gun symbol again. Ibby’s face fell.
“Tranu,” he said in response, finally figuring out that Taylor was asking who’d been killed.
Taylor’s face lost colour. He’d hoped that maybe he hadn’t known who it had been.
“Taylor,” Ibby said suddenly, catching his attention again.
He reached out carefully, tracing a finger delicately around the welts on Taylor’s face and then down to his split lip which had already scabbed over. Taylor waited until he was done, then turned to the side and raised his shirt a little so that Ibby could see the welts and bruises down his side.
Ibby looked sad for a moment, before reaching out to rub Taylor’s shoulder. By the expression on his face Taylor could sense that he was asking if he was alright, and he just nodded in response. The longer they stood there the more frustrated he got that he couldn’t just talk to this man, but he knew instinctively that it was half the point of him being there.
Ibby made some sort of sign by lowering his hand over his face, before pointing to the window. Taylor gave him a curious look before Ibby waved as if to say goodbye.
“Oh, goodnight,” Taylor realised, smiling as he registered the sign.
He made the same signal with his hand before Ibby turned to leave the room. He wondered for a moment at not being returned to either the stable or the study, but looking back at the piano he really couldn’t be happier. Disregarding the hard floor to sleep on. It also meant sleeping free of the chain for the first time since he’d arrived.
When he heard the lock click into place he went to fetch his plate, trying not to eat too fast and make himself sick. When he’d finished he set it by the door in case anyone came to collect it, and headed straight back for the piano.
He tested the key to figure out which hammer he’d been fiddling with and got straight back to work. If he’d be here all night – and possibly the next day, considering his tutoring sessions had been cancelled for now – he could have it up and running by the morning.
He paused as he glanced at the window, unsure of the time. He decided once he finished the key he was working on that he’d try and get some sleep.
This first full day in the room he knew he’d finish restoring it to at the very least a playable state. So he took his time, enjoying the moments alone.
It was after dark when he heard the key turning in the lock and he looked up from playing with a hammer to see that Ibby had brought him something to eat. Having not eaten all day, relieved wasn’t quite the word he needed.
He greeted him halfway into the room, taking the plate and setting it on the floor. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts he began trying to work out a way to communicate with the man who appeared to be one of very few friends he had in this place.
He took hold of his collar, and tried to make the symbol of a gun with his hand. Ibby watched him carefully, knowing what he was trying to do. When Taylor couldn’t do any better than that Ibby paused for thought.
He soon made a similar hand gesture, this time making the sound of the bang that accompanied it.
“Yes,” Taylor nodded, hoping he was getting it.
He touched his collar again, reached over to touch Ibby’s, and then made the gun symbol again. Ibby’s face fell.
“Tranu,” he said in response, finally figuring out that Taylor was asking who’d been killed.
Taylor’s face lost colour. He’d hoped that maybe he hadn’t known who it had been.
“Taylor,” Ibby said suddenly, catching his attention again.
He reached out carefully, tracing a finger delicately around the welts on Taylor’s face and then down to his split lip which had already scabbed over. Taylor waited until he was done, then turned to the side and raised his shirt a little so that Ibby could see the welts and bruises down his side.
Ibby looked sad for a moment, before reaching out to rub Taylor’s shoulder. By the expression on his face Taylor could sense that he was asking if he was alright, and he just nodded in response. The longer they stood there the more frustrated he got that he couldn’t just talk to this man, but he knew instinctively that it was half the point of him being there.
Ibby made some sort of sign by lowering his hand over his face, before pointing to the window. Taylor gave him a curious look before Ibby waved as if to say goodbye.
“Oh, goodnight,” Taylor realised, smiling as he registered the sign.
He made the same signal with his hand before Ibby turned to leave the room. He wondered for a moment at not being returned to either the stable or the study, but looking back at the piano he really couldn’t be happier. Disregarding the hard floor to sleep on. It also meant sleeping free of the chain for the first time since he’d arrived.
When he heard the lock click into place he went to fetch his plate, trying not to eat too fast and make himself sick. When he’d finished he set it by the door in case anyone came to collect it, and headed straight back for the piano.
He tested the key to figure out which hammer he’d been fiddling with and got straight back to work. If he’d be here all night – and possibly the next day, considering his tutoring sessions had been cancelled for now – he could have it up and running by the morning.
He paused as he glanced at the window, unsure of the time. He decided once he finished the key he was working on that he’d try and get some sleep.