[COMPLETE]
When Hanna Haddad embarks on what's supposed to be another uneventful summer as a lifeguard on Cape Cod, a trip to the past comes as an unnerving surprise. The discovery of her estranged mother's journal opens up the world of tragedy and...
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September 24, 1992
5:56 p.m.
I've always been amazed by the brain's ability to forget.
Go two weeks without studying for a class and suddenly it's like you never even learned basic math. Promise someone to do something in the early morning, and by night you're lying in bed remembering you never actually did that thing.
But with the piano, that's not the case. Even if I go weeks or months without playing, I can always come back and play every single song I know. Sometimes it takes a couple tries to get it right, but the notes always come back. And when they do, I don't even have to look at the keys as I play. My hands do all the work, like they grow a brain of their own.
My heart ached. Reading these lines transported me to my early childhood, the hours I'd spend lying on the floor by her feet watching her play. She'd stopped sometime after the divorce.
Maybe music couldn't cure everything.
For the first time yesterday, I almost proved my theory wrong.After dinner, I made my way to the fine arts building. I locked myself in a room and took a deep breath, beginning to play my favorite piece. My fingers hit the first few notes: C, E flat, G.
And then...nothing.
I positioned and repositioned my hands, rehearsing the song in my head. The thing is, I knew it. I memorized that damn thing, spending nearly the whole month of July on it. But all I kept playing were off-key chords that somewhat resembled the song.I almost got up and left, since I didn't have the sheet music with me and had no way to grab it in a limited amount of time. But just as I considered giving up, every note came back to me. My hands flew across the keyboard, and everything was right again.
Now about this math exam tomorrow... I have yet to have that "aha" moment. I've been relying on my natural math ability to save me for this past month, but as I keep staring at this textbook, I think I've been overestimating it a little too much.
Well, here's to having thirteen hours left to understand this shit.
Good luck to me.
September 26, 1992
9:04 p.m.
Kozlov is such an asshole.
You'd think that any normal professor would test on exactly what he's taught for the last month, right? The stuff he said was going to be ON the exam? The stuff you stayed up until 5 a.m. studying for?
