Whoever I Am

To my surprise, Adam played the piano, and he played it quite well. Being one who too often judged books by their covers, I had not suspected the introvert-crossed-with-woodsman appearance held so much musical talent beneath the surface. He invited me over to his studio apartment a few days after showing up at my place the morning after I'd kicked him out. He didn't say much but he lead me to a room with a nice old piano, something he'd inherited from his grandmother, and recording equipment. He was a musician, as I quickly found out, who posted his music on an online music community as well as playing gigs in the city.

He still didn't talk right away but sat down on the bench and pushed the key cover back, revealing the checkerboard of ivory and black. He patted the place beside him but I shook my head and sunk down in to the corner, with my back against the wall. He laughed to himself and shook his head, but raised no arguments. And he began to play.

Large, masculine fingers moved with delicate precision and graceful flow as he struck the keys, luring notes into the air. It was almost as if he were a knight baiting a large dragon out of a cave, in which case the music was the beast and the piano was its cave. And the dragon was impressive and beautiful and regal. Then Adam began to sing lyrics I knew all too well. He started to sing Songbird by Fleetwood Mac, which was coincidentally one of my favorite songs. My grandmother had loved it before me, and she was long gone.

When he was finished, I laughed at him. I joked and kidded around before kissing him happily. I knew he didn't actually love me like the lyrics said but I was aware that the sentiment was pure. We spent a happy day together. But I laughed at him and I regret it.

At home, in the solitude of a room lit by the dusk light, I cried. I cried because I loved the song. I cried because he preformed to me. I cried because the moon was coming out and it reminded me of Adam and the way he seemed so damn reliable. And most of all I cried because I wanted to trust that damn hipster. I wanted to believe he was a kind man, but how many kind people had misused me before?

I made fun of him, but as soon as I dried my tears I put on Fleetwood Mac's album Rumors, my favorite, listened to the song until I fell into a terribly tireless sleep.