Untimely Frost ~ WattPride 2023 ~

{2}

My piano. Living. Breathing. As my composition bloomed from the ivories.

My fingers. Dancing. Serenading. As I played.

My mind. Focused. Falling apart. Slipping from the notes to the glorious stranger.

My parents' guests listened – a hush lingered on every lip. Apart from the music fluttering from the keys, there was a blissful silence both indoors and out.

The notes swirled in a gentle whirlwind of sound. My foot moved on the pedals as my hands floated over the keys.

I was lost in the sonata. I closed my eyes and savored the sound. I could play this song blindfold. Love and music need no sight –only touch.

Nikola lingered in my mind as I build the tempo before slowing the pace to gradually bring the song to an end. He lingered in the moment before I opened my eyes and everyone began clapping. Loud. Then louder until it was thunder. In the growing crescendo, I spotted Nikola standing towards the back. A fresh glass of wine in his hand and a far-away look in his eyes.

I rose and took a bow. My parents came to me and I saw tears glisten in their eyes. With a firm shake of my hand, my father thanked me for my gift in a voice he reserves only when he is emotional. My mother took me in her embrace and kissed my cheek telling me that I was sent from the angels.

Guests came up to congratulate me. The gentlemen shook my hand or patted me on the back. The women cooed and left lipstick marks all over my face.

In a sea of people, I lost sight of Nikola. I tried to move to the spot he had stood in, but I was pulled back into the waves. I rose and fell. Rose and fell. And he was nowhere to be seen. I reached over the people. I reached for him. But he was gone. Soon, I was drowning.

My fingers curled around my father's sleeve when the guests returned to the party and I could breathe once more. "Where is he?" I was a sinking ship seeking salvation at a familiar shore.

Turning to me, he asked, "Who did you lose, Gianni?"

My gaze was a frenzied thing. I searched from face to face while my father gently took hold of my chin and turned my attention to him.

For a moment I did nothing but breathe. My chest rose and fell like I could not get enough oxygen.

I tried to say his name but words failed me. How do I tell my father I'm looking for his old school pal's son while desperation mocks me? I'm a stupid, stupid boy, falling for someone I've just met.

The look in my father's eyes told me he understood. I needn't say a word. Instead, he did. "Nikola?"

"I want to ask him if he –" I felt pathetic.

The gentleness in my father's gaze was a balm. "If he liked the composition?"

I nodded.

"He is a huge fan of the piano after all."

I couldn't even nod this time.

Father gestured to the garden. "I saw him head out there before. He mentioned a walk through the vineyard." Taking my hand, he added, "If he wants to return, he will." A gentle squeeze before he excused himself to find my mother.

For the remainder of the night, Nikola was a ghost.

My mother came up to me and told me she saw him coming back inside briefly for another glass of wine. Just like that. Out of the blue. She came up to tell me that. Not to ask if I'd eaten. Not to see if I was having fun. Only to tell me that. "Your father cares for you," she whispered into my cheek. "We both do."

When I chewed on my lip, she looked away and smiled in the direction of her Enzo. "Did I tell you it was love at first sight for your dad and me? I was in my second year of university. Too focused on my studies to care about dating. I saw him in the library one afternoon. It felt like a slap and an embrace at the same time." She turned to me and brushed her hand across my cheek. "Love comes when you least expect it. Occasionally at inconvenient times."

It was after midnight when my parents were saying their last goodbyes and thanking their friends for joining them in their celebration.

I had not seen Nikola leave, so I came to the cruel conclusion he did without saying goodbye, without remembering nor caring he had asked me to play for him.

I sighed sadly and felt foolish because I knew I should not be upset. He's just some stranger, Gianni. No one important. It does not matter. But I was lying to myself. True, he may have been a stranger but he was important and it did matter. A lot.

My parents caught me sulking on the stairs. I lied and told them I had simply had too much to drink.

"Tomorrow, everything will be back to normal," my mother said as she gestured to the glasses and empty dishes everywhere, not wanting to tell me she commented on the fact I was sulking because of him. "Do not drink anymore, Gianni," she gently said when she saw tears glisten in my eyes.

"Come, Bella. The lad's had a busy day. He doesn't need the old folks pestering him right now." My father patted me on the shoulder. He then took my mother by the hand and walked upstairs.

As soon as they shut their bedroom door I bolted for a half-drunk bottle on the nearest table and grabbed it by its neck. I did not need a glass. I did not need to act refined. I felt like garbage. I brought the bottle to my lips so swiftly that vermillion trickled down to my neck where it stained my collar. I stormed to the garden where a soft breeze suddenly turned sharp and bitter.

The garden was full of lawn chairs and tables brought out from storage. The small bar that had been put up for the occasion was overflowing with empty glasses and empty bottles of wine.

I gazed toward the trees and thought of how the moon was foolish enough to roam the night when she was constantly alone.

"Maybe the moon prefers the solitude," I muttered and was astonished when a voice replied.

"It is easier that way, Gianni."

In the veil of shadows, a figure was sitting on a chaise lounge. Though tonight was the first time I heard his voice, I knew right away it was him.

"Nikola," I cried. I couldn't hide the happy surprise in my tone. I knew I sounded like a schoolboy with a crush. "You're still here."