Chasing Midnight by Courtney King Walker

Author:Courtney King Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cedar Fort, Inc.

eight

Ifind the grand piano later that night after everyone has gone home. It is centered in a distant, empty room in the far corner of the house, surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows against a black sky filled with stars.

It seems like forever since I last played. Maybe in this life it’s been a while too; there is no way of knowing. More and more memories of my old life feel as if they’re starting to blend into my current memories, making it difficult to distinguish between the two. Now when I have a flash of something from the past, I’m uncertain which life it’s from. But I’m pretty sure I’ve always wanted a grand piano—in both lives. Like that is one desire I was born with, either way.

Spencer has always been the better pianist. He has longer fingers and a quicker memory. But he gave up when I kept going, even though I should’ve been the one to quit. I’m no Mozart, but I’ve always loved shutting myself inside the studio at work where I could play as long and as loud as I wanted without Spencer telling me to be quiet or Mom pointing out my mistakes, or Indy and Ezra telling me to hurry up so they could practice the violin.

Indy and Ezra . . .

Their faces jump out at me, reminding me how rapidly I forgot them in my perfect life. Ouch. When was the last time I pictured their golden-brown eyes peering up at me in excitement, begging me to make a sweet Lego city with them? It would take us all Sunday. We’d fill up the entire front room with intersecting roads leading to shopping centers and houses. You couldn’t step anywhere without breaking up the city and facing the wrath of . . .

Of whom?

Of those two faces. Those two boys.

My brothers; that’s right.

Indy and Ezra.

The more I try to remember them, to remember what they sound like and look like, the fuzzier their faces become. My heart stutters at their memory, which for some reason doesn’t seem to hurt as much as I remember it hurting yesterday.

Whenever it was.

How long has it been since I pushed my nonexistent brothers to the back of my mind?

I plunk down a couple of notes, holding onto them until their dissonant sounds cling to the walls, trying to sort out the flux of emotion I’m feeling right now. Without knowing what I’m doing, my fingers scale the keyboard, slowing for a minute with indecision, and then coming together faster and louder until the same song I always played makes itself known—Pachelbel’s Canon in D. I always adored its addicting melody and unchanging tempo. I learned it when I was . . .

I can’t remember.

My memory . . .

What’s happening to my mind?

My fingers mirror my emotions as I continue to play and work out the ebb and flow of sadness, regret, anger, passion, heat, and jealousy all surging and swirling around inside of me.

It’s too much. Too much.

It hurts.

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