The piano echoed out an eerie melody as Simon's fingers moved over the ivory keys. Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" filled his grandmother's house. Tears reamed his eyes as every note rang out. The argentine rays of the moon crept along the floorboards as he poured every ounce of emotion into his movements. He had learned to play this song for his grandmother long ago. Her smile flashed in his mind as his fingers hit the keys. The tapping of her finger echoed in his ears as she kept the beat as the strings hummed. The serenity on her face as she sank into the flow of the melody. Those salt filled drops striking the keys as he poured his grief into the music.
Amy stood in the shadows as she watched as her brother played. It had been years' since she heard him play. Wiping away her tears, her lower lip trembling as his hands moved across the keyboard. Her mother's arm wrapped around her shoulder. Pulling her close, placing a soft kiss on her temple neither dared to interrupt Simon. They knew how he need this. They could see it in his eyes at the funeral yesterday.
Simon's mind flashing back to her words as he struggled to walk. Her encouragement as his body grew stronger. To the night in his hospital bed. Where they both gave into their needs. He knew how he had acted when he found out his family. How he felt like a hypocrite. Yet as the days passed he couldn't say it was wrong. He had found something in her eyes he couldn't possibly think to find. She had nursed him back not only from the injury he had sustained, but also, from the dark place he had fallen into from that fire fight that felt like eternity to him. Where every second felt like hours, minutes felt like days, as every bullet seemed to leave the breach of his gun in slow motion. How Simon prayed she could hear this wherever she was. Sighing heavily as the last notes died away. Wiping away his tears, breathing in as he was posed to start a new song. A small smile graced his lips as the first notes of "Vide Cor Meum" rang out. Simon knew she loved this song.
"Simon?" Pamela asked softly so not to distract him. "What song is that?"
"It's a song called Vide Cor Meum. It's based upon Dante's first sonnet La Vita Nuova," Simon said, hearing the Latin lyrics in his head.
"It's beautiful," Amy said moving up to him, gently placing her hand on his left shoulder.
"I know," Simon nodded.
"But why are you playing it?" Pamela asked sitting down next to him. Resting her head on Simon's shoulder. She couldn't agree more with her daughter, it was a beautiful song.
"It's something grandma would always play," Simon said, leaving out the fact it was normally followed after they had horizontal refreshments.
"I never heard her play it before?" Pamela asked perplexed at Simon's smile.
"She told me it was only for special occasions."
"Well," Amy said sinking down beside him, "Will you play it again for... me?" she asked her index finger brushing along the edge of his ear.
"Okay," Simon said pulling out his phone, opening his YouTube app typing the song into the search bar. "I think you would like to know what the song is about," he said, placing his phone on the music desk so they could see the English translation of the lyrics.
"And Mom would play this... for you?" Pamela asked eyeing her son. Wondering why her mother would play something that was so very personal, so intimate for her son.
"Yes," Simon said closing the cover down over the keyboard.
"Why? Simon, why would Mom play this for you?" Pamela asked as Simon reached for his cane.
"Maybe I'll answer that... some day just not today," Simon said sliding off the bench.
"Simon?" Pamela said forcibly as she rose. Yet as he turned she saw the hurt, the lost, the sorrow. It wasn't the kind of grief for a family member, but of someone very close. "I'm sorry, I won't pry," she said, watching Simon walk towards his bedroom.
"Well, I need to get to bed," Amy said, noticing the time, wondering what was going on in that head of his.
"Me too, yet I don't want to leave Simon here all alone," Pamela said, hating the fact her time off had ran out. She had no wish to leave her son alone in the state of mind he was in.
"I'll come by on my lunch break and check on him," Amy said sharing a nod with her mother.
"Simon," Amy whispered sweetly as the new dawn's light filtered through the windows.
"Hmm?" Simon mumbled in his half sleep state.
"I made french toast for you, some eggs and bacon," Amy said resting on the edge of the bed, her fingers weaving through his hair. "It's in the oven for you whenever you get up," she said, wondering how she was going to get him to talk about whatever was on his mind last night. "I was hoping maybe I could come by and have lunch with you?"
"Okay," Simon yawned. Amy fought herself from smiling.
"Burner Boy is still open, I know how you liked their barbecue. Would you like for me to bring some home?" Amy asked her hand running down his bare arm. She couldn't help it she loved the feel of his skin underneath her touch.
"Sure," Simon said smacking his lips in his semi-like dream trance. "Don't forget the sauce," he muttered rolling onto his back.
"I won't," Amy said, out of the corner of her eye her gaze caught sight of something. "You don't have to worry, Simon," she said leaning forward, "I'm going to..." her lips softly pressed against his, her hand moving down his chest. Gently wrapping around that covered hard rod, that she hoped to one day feel deep inside of her. "Always take care of you baby brother," Amy whispered as she pulled away. Looking back one last time as she closed his bedroom door.
Amy's mind flashed back to when Simon was fourteen. To the day she was getting harassed by the boys at her high school. How he shoved and pushed them away from her when they had her backed against the lockers. The way he stood up to boys that were older, taller, and stronger than he was. Yet that didn't stop Simon, no, he got in their faces and told them what he thought of them. Granted he did get beaten up, it still didn't stop him. She knew most of the fights he had gotten into was because of her. How he had won her heart that day. Always flashing her a smile no matter how painful those bruises must have felt. Amy hoped he could come to see that. That all these years' she had loved him. Then just maybe they could grow closer as it should have been all those years' ago.
Simon sat at the kitchen table chewing on the breakfast his sister had made. He had to admit she did know how to cook. The french toast was especially good with the cinnamon mixed in. He was going to have to ask Amy how she did that. For now regular french toast wouldn't hold a candle to it any longer.
"
Thanks for breakfast, sis
