Less than upon a quarter-hour of silence, my car was once again before the old man's house; now that I had more time to inspect it, it was quite dull. Everything in a town is dull at first glance anyway, but this one especially eradiated no uniqueness. Not quite large, not quite narrow, not quite new, not quite old, and all other antitheses which were lost in the painting's crackling and the concrete's roughness. If there was actually a word to describe it, it would've been miserable; it really reminded me of some sort of modern purgatory. Hermione too seemed to have the same thought given her glances full of indiscernible pity and her tight lips. Eda, on the other hand, was hiding some sort of distress, more than close to her mother and clenching her cramoisy dress.
But in the center of that oppressive scenery, the slender woman was smoking a cigarette with almost dead eyes, strolling her sight on the not-so-green lawn, before finally noticing her guests. At first, her mood greatly improved as she put on an amiable mask whereupon she noticed the little girl and threw as fast as possible the cigarette, wherever it was out of view. For a moment, I thought her gentle smile was becoming more honest. She hurried toward our direction.
"Good evening. Edwin, was it?" she didn't wait for an answer. "Oh, his wife maybe?"
"No, huh, it's sort of complicated. I'm Hermione."
"Maria," she replied. "And this cute little girl is?" she kindly asked.
"Edalynn," the cute little girl shyly replied.
"Nice to meet you, Edalynn."
"The pleasure is shared," she politely said.
"Well," I awkwardly continued, "I brought you some flowers and some fine wine," I gave the bouquet and the bottle.
"My, thank you. It's been at least a decade since the last time someone gave me flowers," she emphasized. "Why don't we sit down a bit, for now? The dinner is still cooking, and my husband still at the office," she bitterly added.
Maria then opened the door for us to reveal another lifeless place that served as her home. Shivers ran down my spine as entering. Eda strongly pressed against her mother, and me glancing at every object, she led us to the living room, a lounge no wider than fifteen-meter square. Every mundane thing was there; a couch, a small table, a TV, and some decorations, though no single photo. Nevertheless, the acoustic piano lurking in a corner attracted my attention; where Terence and I weren't so different was the fact that we always kindly spoke of the person we loved the most, despite not acting as such before them; and when Terence was talking about his wife, he would always come back at how good of a pianist she was.
When I thought about it, we really were almost the same, though our spitefulness was directed differently but with the same reason; I never spoke again to Hermione, and Terence neglected (a euphemism) Maria because we couldn't accept it; ultimately, the root of all the misdeeds we committed was suffering. I slightly and quietly laughed as realizing that truth.
Still in the living room, Maria sat on a sofa while the three of us were on the couch adjacent to the former. She had already put some glasses around the small table, as well as a jug of water, some soda, and chips as a snack. Everyone quickly took some of the table's content, before small talks and over mundane discussion which Hermione dynamically took part in, while I was mostly chugging water in silence. As for Eda, she had settled down a little bit and soon started to curiously observe her surrounding, before locking her eyes on the piano.
"Do you wanna play?" suggested the woman.
"I don't know how to," the little girl bashfully said.
"Everything is to be learned darling," Maria wisely replied.
"Go on sweetie," the mother encouraged.
Maria hastily stood up from her seat and sat again before the white and black keys, while leaving a small space for Eda to watch next to her and attend her first lesson. The little girl reluctantly walked across the room, and before achieving so, the woman's slender finger began to dance upon the keys; and despite being all dusty and obviously untouched, the piano was still in tune. All the noises were suddenly crushed by whatever scale she was using, but I first recognized the song as a lullaby given the high pitch. Four eighth notes, followed by the same rhythm but a whole step lower, then same process again, and finally a half step lower still as rapidly before repeating. Maria began to add the chords and use the pedal for sustaining the notes. Lullaby-like songs have a melancholic tone to them, always; maybe because of the awareness that being a kid again— or simply going back to whatever is no longer— was impossible.
Coincidentally, that was one of Hermione's favorite tunes, and she knew the lyrics by heart. Myself hearing her singing that song for too long, I grew to remember the lyrics; I somehow understood why Maria liked the song as well. Hermione compulsively began to sing, but the woman stopped in a sudden shock as letting an awfully dissonant chord (was it still even a chord?). She averted her eyes from us, guests, and put her hands on her face like a veil before breaking into tears. Hermione and Eda were first confused before going to solace the woman; as for me, I could understand why.
"Oh god, sorry for this pitiable scene," Maria apologized as regaining her composure.
"No, no," insisted Hermione. "What is it? Maybe we should leave…"
"Don't worry, darling… It's just an old woman breaking her nerves down," she replied in a self-deprecating tone.
"Don't say that," Eda interrupted. "What's wrong?"
"You're a nice little girl," Maria calmed down before turning to Hermione. "I was just surprised that you knew the lyrics, and it reminded me of something unhappy."
"I'm really sorry," the mother said with an apologetic expression. "I'll refrain from if it bothers you."
"You can sing if you want, I'd even like that. It was just sudden… And you darling," she turned to Eda, "would you sing with your mother for me please?"
"Will it help you?" she asked.
"Very much," Maria replied with a fond smile.
The woman raised her hands, glanced at Hermione and Eda with the same smile, and restarted the song. Four eighth notes, followed by the same rhythm but a whole step lower, then same process again, and finally a half step lower still as rapidly before repeating. Afterward, the same chord progression and finally Hermione's pleasant voice doubled with Eda's sharp one; they were both looking at the lyrics from a website on the phone. As silent as always, I listened to the tune while dreaming on what was no longer; and like Maria, I was hiding tears, watching Hermione and gnawing on regrets.
"Because that's what we're waiting for, that's what we're waiting for, aren't we…" the woman trailed off as finishing playing.
"Yay!" Eda shouted. "That was an amazing song."
"My favorite one," Hermione commented.
"Eda, come here, I'll teach you how to play it," Maria invited.
Eda rushed next to the woman, and a trial and error of notes began. As for Hermione, she watched upon the two as smiling kindly. Her gaze soon fell on me; her mood visibly changed. She resumed whatever she was doing.
"Why did she cry?" Hermione asked, as though mindlessly but I knew she was asking me.
"You wanna know?" I continued, she ignored me. "Terence and Maria had a baby together, but a miscarriage followed; it's a really sad story, and it doesn't end there. The husband too was hurt by it, of course, he would have, and he started escaping reality with alcohol, whores, and casino…"
"Gosh… Terence seemed like a good guy," she regretted.
"He is, but after all the shit he's done, that's just an exaggeration."
"How do you know that anyway?"
"Can't tell you, in seven days maybe."
"Why in seven days?"
"Can't tell you, right? Maybe if you accept to go on a date with me," I joked.
"Really?"
"Maybe," I replied.
"Then maybe I'll accept too," she retorted. "Why do you wanna go on a date so badly?"
"I miss it."
"It was a one-night stand."
"Was it? You won't say that to Eda surely."
"If it's for Eda, just go out with her every weekend."
"I wanna go out with you too, I love you."
"Just why? Why did you suddenly love me and decide to take care of your daughter you haven't talked with for years?" she almost shouted.
"Can't you just accept it please?" I began to feel the irony of my position.
Hermione too was taken aback by my response, one that she once said, to the old me. She kept quiet for a long time after that. But soon enough, the doorbell rang before that Maria let in her husband; she averted her eyes away, and he feigned not having noticed the latter's annoyance. Terence quickly entered the living room and greeted everyone, while the wife headed in the kitchen, as far away as possible from the newest arrival. The old man sat down where Maria was originally, before grabbing a glass of water. He then managed to have a decent conversation with Hermione and Eda, mostly concerning her job, daily life struggle, school for Eda… At some point, however, he asked Hermione about art and began to praise her from what he had heard from me while sparing some glances at my face from time to time.
Maria soon enough announced that the dinner was ready, so all the guests and her husband moved to the kitchen where a table was, wide enough for the five of us. At one side, I sat down next to Hermione, and at the opposite one, Terence took a chair next to his wife. As for Eda, she was at one of the table's ends, nonetheless close to her mother. The dinner was already set; it was a large plate of lasagna, more than enough for everyone at the table. There was also a salad with it, as well as the bottle of wine I brought earlier. Maria began to pour it in glasses for all the adults while preparing a cup of juice for the youngest one; the old man then spoke for the first time of the evening to his wife, saying that he didn't want any of it and that water was just fine for him. As hearing that, it was as though the wife was very slightly, almost imperceptibly, and yet one could clearly feel it, relieved.
Next, Maria invited all of us to grab a slice of the plate, starting with Eda, and later ending with Terence. Hermione talked with Maria for the rest of the meal, also frequently including Eda, visibly pleased by the food, to the conversation. The old man shut his mouth as I did, and we both ate in silence as listening to the women. At last, each one's dish was empty, only left with the memories of succulent lasagna, and Hermione soon complimented that, followed by the little girl, myself, and the old man; he spoke twice to his wife with the sentence "It was delicious.". Then, a weak grin flashed on the wife's face. Terence gestured to me and tilted his head towards the kitchen's door, as a sign of leaving. He excused himself, stood up, carefully took the rest of the bottle of wine and a glass, and left the room.
"Don't drink too much," warned Maria as he went out.
The old man stopped his pace before leaving again, without even a glance. I excused myself too and came to meet him to the other side of the door. He continued walking, this time towards the porch, and sat there amidst the evening's dimness. I quietly did the same and he handed me a glass full of wine while holding the bottle in the other hand. He started to slowly drink it.
"Craved for alcohol, old man?"
"Never dared even once to drink in front of Maria," he confessed. "I'm awful when drunk, y'know, I can understand why she despises my guts since I'm almost always drunk."
"Let's stop then," I replied. "That's only bothersome to her."
"Heh, he laughed. I'll tell ya something, she doesn't care when I'm drunk. Her warning meant that she cared; and y'know what, I wanna think it was concern, and that made me happy."
"Just how bad is your relationship?" I wondered.
"Only the paper that says that we're married links us."
"You really don't love her anymore?"
"That ain't possible, kid. When you love someone, it remains forever, maybe less, but it's still definitely there. That's just the case with Hermione and you, ain't it?"
"Guess you're right," I reluctantly admitted.
The old man stopped talking and just drank for a moment.
"Oh yeah, did Maria play the piano?" he asked.
"How did you figure out?"
"I just heard from outside; the walls are terribly thin now that I think of it."
"Judging from your tone, you were surprised."
"…Yeah. Y'know, since… that accident… Maria started to fall into depression and she suddenly stopped playing. And there were even times when she would just literally do nothing at all, like staying in bed for days with barely eating. But I always hoped that she'd play again, so I always make sure that the piano is in tune."
"That's nice from you," I remarked. "She was a pianist before?"
"Even a professional; it was her living, professionally and literally; music could've probably saved her, but she resigned." He made a pause, "she's awfully good, isn't she? She could teach Eda too, the little girl seems interested."
"I'll try to speak to her mom."
"I'm glad that she played again tonight, too bad that I couldn't hear entirely. Let's celebrate that with some wine then," he joked before drinking from the bottle.
A silence followed.
"I just had a funny thought," I told him.
"Make me laugh."
"We used to drink to escape reality, right? Me with Hermione, and you with Maria."
"What's funny?"
"Now we're drinking to celebrate it. You with Maria, and me with Hermione. You're glad to hear her playing again, and I'm glad to see Hermione again."
"Go on," he said.
"I just thought that man still thinks that alcohol will magically solve his problem. And you know where that idea comes from? It's from what we're doing, celebrating, and being glad. We just idiotically thought that that joy came from the alcohol."
"Funny," he said without laughing. Soon enough, a smile appeared on his face.
Again another silence. After a moment later, the door opened and we both turned to see Maria followed by Hermione and Eda. They were still laughing of whatever jest they heard earlier; we were glad. Terence hurriedly hid the bottle before standing up and going next to his wife; the guests obviously had to leave. Maria bade her farewell and came back into the house while letting the husband talk before our departure. The old man thanked us for coming, and Hermione thanked back, and after a moment of discussion about another dinner like this, we went back to the car. Terence closed the door as I was walking towards my vehicle, then I heard it; Maria was playing the piano.
"Now you can hear it entirely," I muttered under my breath.