Symptoms of Life

“What’s that?” I frowned looking at David. He had thrust a box wrapped up in balloon-patterned paper at me; his eyes heavy and a tight smile place on his face.

We were standing in the front hall, Angelina, Liesl, and Griffin stood by pulling on their coats and winters boots. Similar looks stuck to their faces as we prepared for an evening at the fundraiser.

“Well you broke your old phone when you fell,” Dr. Todd began placing the box in my hand, “so I got you a new one. Happy early Birthday Florence.”

“Uh, thanks.” I muttered, putting the box down on the ledge of the stairs, and yanking my one of my boots onto the good foot. They were still standing there, staring at me.

“Well open it!” Liesl sighed exasperated. “It’s the newest iPhone, the five! The guy at the kiosk said it has great accessibility features!”

“She lost a leg Liesl, she doesn’t have brain damage.” Griffin groaned, grabbing the car keys and making his way out to the house.

I could picture Liesl rolling her eyes, that’s how much I’d seen her do it in the last three weeks or so. She would roll them – to the left – and then toss her blonde hair over her shoulder.

In my head I did the best to shut her out, I leaned back on my heels so my butt was plastered to the wall, and slowly lifted up the fake foot to aim it into the boot. It dangled mercilessly and Liesl’s chatter was beyond distracting.

“I hope you don’t mind that I sent your number out to your Facebook friends, and I already put your Instagram and twitter accounts on. You really need better passwords, girl!” Liesl clucked, her foot tapping against the floor impatiently.

“Florence use your stool.” Angelina sighed, and I could hear her trying to be kind. It must be hard when your millionaire plastic surgeon husband’s other daughter shows up at your house because her mom, his first wife, died. “Let me help.”

“No.” I grumbled, finally getting the foot into the tall saddle boot, and slowly beginning to zip up the side.

“That’s rude, Florence. Now open the gift. Liesl worked hard on it.” Dr. Todd groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and shutting his eyes tightly. “C’mon, let’s go.” He muttered, pushing the present back into my hand and waddling out the door after his son.

Squished in the car, I flipped the gift box over in my hand, watching as the light hit the silver paper and danced in the evening light. Instinctively I closed my eyes as the car accelerated onto the highway, my hands gripping the present tightly. My fingers slipped under the paper seam and lifted it slowly,

“You don’t need to save the paper.” Liesl sung, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leaning her head into my neck.

Biting my tongue, I tore the paper off the box, my shoulders rising to my ears uncomfortably. I flipped the phone out of the box, looking over it’s white and silver unharmed exterior.

Its skin was perfect, totally intact, not a single piece of metal was missing and the glass felt endless under my finger tips, the screen lit up as I tapped the bottom button, “What’s that?” I blurted out my eyes stuck to the screensaver.

“You and your boyfriend, Brad, in Paris. Remember?” Liesl giggled, taking the phone out of my hand and unlocking it further.

“You have a boyfriend, Florence? Does he know you’re here?” Angelina smiled, turning around in the front seat to face me.

I could see Dr. Todd visibly stiffen in the front seat and maybe that’s what dared me to say it, take the phone out of Liesl’s hand and proceed to flip through some incredibly old social media posts. “Yeah.” I shrugged.

“He should come up some time.” Angelina smiled, settling back into the heated leather seat and flipping her Ray Bans back over her eyes.

We arrived at the school shortly after for the spaghetti fundraiser dinner. Why a private school that charged ten thousand dollars in tuition per kid per year needed a fundraiser was beyond me.

I followed the group to the table that was almost in the middle of the bedazzled cafeteria. Wes’s parents were already seated there with him, talking avidly about the school and it’s efforts.

To be fair the cafeteria was hardly recognizable. Instead of bright overhead fluorescents, candles burned as centerpieces in the middle of the white table-clothed tables. The art club had plastered their paintings over the walls covering up the various and sundry school spirit and event posters. If it were for the concrete floor, it’d be possible to believe that we were in a real ballroom.

“Excuse us, we have a speech to give.” Wes grinned standing up the table, and giving me a tight squeeze on the shoulder after him.

The cafeteria filled up quickly, families raved over the set-up as they were herded to tables by football players and handed menus. The room fell silent as Wes and Griffin approached the podium in matching navy blue suits.

“Ladies and Gentlemen thank you so much for attending tonight’s event,” Wes began, clearing his throat and locking eyes on our table, “the money you’ve given tonight will help to fund our upcoming prom and graduation celebrations.”

“However,” Griffin began, “the student council is always looking for more support in order to run stress and spirit events for our student body. On behalf of the student body I would like to thank Birch’s as well as my own family for their generous donations. Please stand up.”

The room erupted with applause, and David and Angelina rose alongside the other family, nodding their heads graciously. Liesl clapped, loudly cheering, for her parents, while jabbing her elbow into my arm.

“Thank you so much everyone.” Wes smiled, waving the audience down. “Now please give a warm welcome to Mr. Graham Hughes, our school conductor, who will be accompanying our evening on the piano.”

Mr. Hughes was exactly the same as the man in the hallway. Despite the formal atmosphere he strutted onto the stage in a black pair of jeans and button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a v-neck sweater pulled over top. His hair was thrown half-hazardly into a bun on top of his head and a thicker than the usual five o’clock shadow was splattered across his pale skin.

A crooked smile laid on his face, while he sat down in front of the grande-piano, fixing a pair of thick rimmed reading glasses onto his nose. He looked like he stepped out of a magazine, he personified a style that no one else could possibly have and he didn’t look to be giving a single fuck.

The clapping and cheering stopped as his fingers struck the keys, plunging into a deep and bluesy tune. He didn’t look focused, not at all, he smiled and nodded to audience, and his body rocked with the sharps and flats of the tune. He wasn’t even paying attention.

It seemed like if he hit a wrong note no one would know, I knew absolutely nothing of music, and the audience seemed so entranced by his image I’d doubt they’d even care.

“Flo, you should Instagram us! I did such a good job on your look tonight. You look like super hot, you’re feelin’ it right?” Liesl grinned tapping her manicured nails on the cell phones display.

“Rather not.” I nodded; leaning back as a student dropped a large bowl of pasta garnished with parsley onto the placemat in front me. “Merci.” I muttered out of habit, and ducked my head to avoid Dr. Todd’s pointed gaze.

“Parmesan?” The student asked, her skin beaded with steam from the kitchen.

“Ye-“

“She’s allergic to dairy.” Dr. Todd interrupted, tucking a napkin into his collar. “And Florence, Canada’s first language is English. Use it.”

“Florence you have such a beautiful accent.” Wes’s mother cooed, wrapping the long spaghetti noodles around her fork. She moaned appreciatively, nodding generously towards her son. “I swear Wes, the food this cafeteria puts out is great! I don’t know why you complain about it.”

My attention snapped back briefly to the front, as the pianist drifted into a more classical melody so seamlessly you’d miss it. He was more focused now, not glancing around quite so much. His head bobbed harder with every stroke, and it seemed like his upper body was thrusting into the instrument with every accented note.

“Please, Flo?” Liesl asked glancing pointedly towards her gift to me.

“Drop it, Liesl.” Griffin snapped, and the table fell silent as we ate sinking into the tunes of the night, and watching as the candle blazed.

The parents chatted eagerly as dessert began to arrive, discussing their children’s futures in a ‘your horse is bigger than mine’ fashion. Liesl had fallen silent and Griffin and Wes were too busy congratulating each other on the event to notice anything at all.

It was me, and the piano player.

Until the cell phone started ringing. At first, only Liesl jumped her eyes snapping onto the shiny glass object and an excited grin growing on her face. It buzzed again, and I pulled it into my lap before she grab it away from me. It buzzed again, and again, the chirping of a bell, and my fingers hastily searched its sides for a volume button to no avail.

I glanced down at the screen, feeling cold.

’Flo, honey, it’s me, Brad. Why did your ‘sister’ send me this number on Facebook? You don’t have a sister. Who even uses Facebook?’

‘Did you think you could just post an Instagram and the world wouldn’t notice.’
‘Where in the fuck are you?’

‘Flo, I’m going to call, please answer.’

“Can you please take that somewhere else, Florence?” Dr. Todd sighed, placing his fork back down on his plate – like that simple gesture could convey his lifetime of disappointment in me.

I didn’t answer, I just stood as quickly from the chair as possible. Feeling light-headed I stumbled to the back of the room where I’d discovered the washrooms earlier today. “Sorry.” I mumbled tripping into a waiter and then his table.

The phone buzzed irrationally in my palm, and a cool sweat had begun to form. I looked at the phone; the number was so recognizable, I knew it off by heart. The beat of my chest resounded in my ears throughout my mad dash. Maybe I could just drop it in the toilet and all would be over and done with.

I couldn’t talk to Brad, it felt like I could never talk to him again. Like I could never look at myself in the same way when I was with him or with anyone. I was an entirely different person. A person no one I knew before would even like, and how could I talk to him without being jealous? He was living my dream and my life.

“Fuck.” I hissed. He was calling again.

I hobbled at the corner, the robotic leg glitching under my weight; it wasn’t use to the speed. This was something ‘it needed to work up to’. It was supposed to be learning how I walked normally, so it could support me, but I didn’t walk close to normal with it.

The foot though, caught on the corner, and before I knew it, the ground was zooming in faster than any digital camera. My eyes squeezed closed, and I threw the cell phone away, hoping it would break in the process.

An arm cinched around my upper body, and I was slowly back onto my feet.

“Jesus, Wes, why are you following me?” I groaned, turning on my heel to find myself facing a casual button down.

“It’s Graham actually, and a thanks would suffice.” His arms dropped from my sides, and he looked at me laughingly while he strode calmly over and picked up the new phone from the ground. “You’re lucky,” he grinned, “not even a crack!”

I was at a total loss of words, leaning against the wall I worked to steady my heart rate, and took slow individual breaths. The phone, however, started ringing, again.

He was standing in front of me again, way too close for comfort, his eyes matching mine, and a relaxed look on his face. “Are you going to answer this?” He asked, nodding his chin at the vibrating object.

When I didn’t answer, his thumb swiped across the screen and he raised the phone to his ear. A scream for him to stop caught in my throat, and instead I coughed on my own breath.

“Hello?” He asked, his voice deep, “No, this is Graham. I think you have the wrong number. Have a nice life.” He pressed a button or something, and slowly he slid the glossy object into the back pocket of my jeans. “You have a very pretty voice, Florence.” A playful look laid on his face until he took a sudden step back. “Let’s get you back to your table.” He smiled, and he slung an arm around me again, taking all of my weight onto himself.

I walked – sort of – beside him. I couldn’t find the words to tell him to stop, or to leave me alone. I could walk; I knew I could. It just took extra time.

“You’re in the middle right?” He asked, leading through the sea of tables, without caring about the answer.

We were back at the able way faster than I could have gotten myself there or liked to. A familiar frown sat on Dr. Todd’s face as he eyed me on our way over. Liesl, on the other hand, seemed overjoyed.

“Hi Mr. Hughes!” Liesl cooed, placing her elbow onto the back of her chair, and cupping her chin in her hand. “You play so beautifully.”

Mr. Hughes didn’t seem to notice, instead he pulled out my chair and stared at me until I was seated back down in it. “She had a fall.” He explained, his eyes soft. “Seems pretty shaken up.”

“Thank you Mr. Hughes.” Dr. Todd nodded, and Graham walked quickly away and back to his instrument. “Did you hit your head again, Florence?” Dr. Todd prodded, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

“No.” I replied looking at the untouched plate of pasta and ‘dairy-free’ fruit platter in front of me. I could tell he was about to go off on me about the dangers of concussions and how I should really be carrying a pillow with me at all times, but Liesl interrupted him.

“Dad, isn’t Mr. Hughes so talented.” She sighed, her eyes trained on the stage, as she watched the man pound his life into the white keys.

“No,” Dr. Todd snapped, his eyes stuck on me, “he has a useless degree and life. Music is not a real job. Neither are sports.”