House of the Sun (Part 1)

Despite my initial confidence, I quickly found out that it’s actually incredibly difficult to maintain composure while staring at someone’s face. I had a fair amount of experience playing staredowns in class. And well, let’s just say that a lot of my manga funds came from that. Unfortunately, as I was quickly realising, that experience didn’t really translate well to a situation like mine. A situation where I was the only one staring.

The moments where she decided to meet my gaze were the most difficult, still.

“So… How are you liking it here out in the sticks?” I asked, wondering if small talk would help my plight.

“Eh, it’s fine honestly. Used to come here a lot on family vacations when I was younger so it’s not like I’m entirely out of my element.” Lily spoke softly, slowly sketching away at my visage.

She was wearing a different coloured floral dress today. I hadn’t really paid much mind to her attire before but now that I sat here idle, my gaze was drawn to the rest of her outfit as well. What immediately stood out was her cloche hat. Or well, the fact that she was wearing one at all.

“How do you like it?” I almost jumped in my seat. “Do tell me how it’s extremely weird that I’m wearing a hat indoors.”

If I was capable of movement, my face would have been quite emotive right now. Did she think that I had zero fashion literacy?

“It’s pretty. I dig the beige colour in contrast to the brown flower on the side. Goes well with your light yellow dress.”

Lily looked shocked.

“What is it?”

“I didn’t expect you to actually have some semblance of a fashion sense.” It took all of my effort to maintain the serene look on my face.

“I’ve been dragged to more shopping trips than I have attended piano lessons.” She stared blankly at me. “Anyway…”

“I made it myself, by the way.”

“You are kidding.” I said out loud, eyes widened, failing miserably at the one job I had. Lily sighed as if expecting such a reaction. She put down her pencil on the wooden edge of the easel and got up from her seat.

“Take a look.” She said, hurling the hat like a discus in my direction. I awkwardly managed to catch it mid air. The bell-shaped hat was made of straw. Probably one of the more difficult materials to stitch with. Yet, it stuck together seamlessly.

“I could have mistaken it for a commercial product. Hell, I did.” I was certain a more discerning eye would have been able to spot the subtle differences, but for someone only mildly into fashion- it looked just as genuine as the real thing.

“Thanks.” Lily blushed. Or more accurately, her ears turned a bright shade of pink. “My mom is pretty into it, I guess. She taught me how to stitch with straw so I could help her with her embroidery work from time to time.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“You bet.” She laughed. “But it’s rewarding. This hat was the very first one I shaped with a cloche block. Took fucking ages to stitch the straw together after that.”

“And the flower?” I pointed at the delicate looking ribbon woven into a pretty blossom at the side of the hat.

“Mom loved the intricate bits the most.” Lily smiled. “She put it on when I showed it to her after I was done. Really makes the whole vintage look come together, right?”

“Sure does. But you really didn’t have to wear a cloche hat just because I said it looks good, you know?”

“Should I cue the laugh tracks now?”

“It does look good!” She raised her eyebrows as if gauging whether I was really being serious or not. “Not that you really need it considering-”

A funny feeling rose in my stomach as I stopped myself from saying something extremely lethal. To me, I mean. Considering how pretty you are.

“Considering what?” She looked even more suspicious now. I laughed awkwardly as I scratched the back of my head. Partially embarrassed by what I was about to say, mostly by the fact that saying it had felt like the most natural thing to me.

“Considering how fashionable you already are!”

“Sure. If you think so,” She said, looking disinterested now.

A sigh escaped her tired face as an ominous quiet settled down, like a blanket. And then that silence grew. Extending outwards until it felt oppressive, like a dark cloud approaching the horizon and then sprawling over the skies. I held that hat like it was an anchor, opening my mouth to initiate yet another pointless conversation. It failed me.

“Hey Neil,” Her voice, lacking in its usual effervescence, slowly started. “Why do you just go along with everything I say?”

“Why do I…” I mumbled as her question rang in my head.

“It’s creepy how you never refuse even my most unreasonable requests. Like, don’t you have anything better to do with your time than spend it with me?”

Creepy? So it was creepy after all. Creepy that it had been less than two weeks and I found myself unable to say no to her face. But did that really suggest being creepy? Would someone really feel uneasy about being with someone who went along with anything they said? I know I wouldn’t but-

“You are a weird one, aren’t you?”

Weird, huh? I had been called that so many times that I really didn’t know whether to take it as an insult or a state of being. You look up the meaning of the word and apparently it’s supposed to suggest something supernatural or unearthly. Was that supposed to be a compliment? You could call someone’s finger speed on a keyboard unearthly but you wouldn’t call it weird. Yet, they carry such different connotations. That word itself is creepy then, isn’t it?

“Suppose I am.” I answered as I rose from my stool. “But you know what’s really weird and creepy about this?”

She leaned on the window, gazing right at me. A strange look on her face.

“You. All of you. The way you talk to me. The way you act around me. The way you listen to everything I say, no matter how stupidly banal it may be.” It felt good to say it all out loud. These weird emotions. These creepy feelings. “You are the weird one for caring so much. Creepy? Do you even remember the things you said to me in that cafe?”

I guess this would be the last time I would be talking to her. It was fine, right? It was better this way. There was no reason for her to hang out with someone just floating through life. She had so much more passion left in her to pursue what she wanted. All I would do by hanging out with her is be a hindrance. Not that a dead weight like me was capable of being that either.

And yet, I had to know something. Something I probably didn’t have any right to know about, but I needed to anyway. I took a deep breath as I noticed Lily’s gaze on me.

“Why do you keep looking around this place like you know it so intimately? Even if you have been here before on vacations, I can’t imagine you spent it idling here. Heck, even if you have…”

Why do I feel like I know you? Why do you look at me with that strange gaze of yours? Why do I keep seeing a ghost of someone I knew.

“Lily, please tell me.” I took a deep breath as I looked at her face again.

Her face…

She had such a peculiar smile on her face.

“Tell you what?” I couldn’t respond. That smile of hers became more twisted. “Why should I tell you anything about me?”

“Why?” No, she was right. I didn’t have any right to ask her that.

“Why should I have to say anything to a person that doesn’t exist?”

“What do you-”

“You are a stranger to me, Neil.” She paused. “The funny part is how much you have convinced yourself that you are the same person you used to be.”

“Used to be…” What did she mean by that?

“I am not hiding-”

“You are and you don’t even realise it.” She was right.
“Oblivious to everyone around you.” She was right.
“Hiding under that polite, easygoing facade. Never questioning other’s decisions.” She was right.
“Pretending you lack a single ounce of volition, going along with whatever the fuck people ask you to do.” She was right.

“I’m sorry,” Her words bounced off the hall’s walls, hounding me from all around. What was I even apologising for?

“Don’t apologise for the sake of it. Just… try and think about it y’know?” She was right. She was always right.

“What am I supposed to do here, Lily?”

“Beats me,” She said. “Look I don’t wanna hold you hostage here, okay? I don’t even know why I thought bringing you here would do anything.”

“I told you I am just not comfortable-”

“You already told me, yes. That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?” She stayed quiet. “Why bring me here? Why make me sit here watching as you sketch my ugly mug?”

“I don’t draw people who aren’t pretty,” She said softly.

I could feel the heat rising to my face despite everything.

“Look, just tell me what’s on your mind. We can talk things out. Just like last time.”

“Pfft.” She laughed. It sounded hollow. “Oh Nels, I wish it was that easy.”

“Nels…?” So incredibly familiar.

“I guess it can’t hurt to give it a shot.”

“Lily?” She smiled softly and then started humming.

The quiet notes in her voice echoed through the hall. She sang in a tune so incredibly familiar. So gentle and melancholy. I had heard it somewhere before…

No, it couldn’t be.

I turned away from Lily as I walked nay, ran towards the end of the hall. There was no time for formalities. No time to bring out my Yamaha from the mess of instruments.

I had to know.

I sat down on the cushioned bench of the grand piano and quickly unfolded the fallboard. A slight layer of dust lined the edges of the keys. I pressed the F-major key instinctively and a shiver ran down my back. It wasn’t because of the feeling of touching such an expensive piece of instrument, or the gentle yet firm sound it made. No, it was because I was right.

80 BPM. 3/4 time signature. F-major onto a flowing up and down of A, B, C and end on F. Thrice.

My fingers followed the motion.

A-major, flow up and down again with A, B, C and end on E.

It was the same. But it couldn’t be the same. She couldn’t have possibly known it.

B-chord. E-major, up and down G, B, C and end on D.

It felt hypnotic to play like this again. A distant memory gently coming together with every single key I played.

Up and down G, B, D. Twice. End on E-major.

I smiled as her humming slowly faded from my ears and I found myself lost in a trance. It was a piece I could never forget after all. That same idyllic pace at which the notes danced, the frantic way in which I had tried mastering it for her. Because it was her. Someone I had promised to never forget. But had forgotten anyway.

Une chanson juste pour elle.

I chuckled remembering the broken french she used to flaunt around. I looked at Lily Hoover to find her staring outside, her hands folded behind her back. She turned towards me and smiled. As if a part of her had been liberated, as if she had been freed of a burden she had been carrying all this time.

“It didn’t rain today after all.” She said aloud, a gentle sunray illuminating her visage in a lovely afternoon yellow.