The days approached fast, and I just realized that today was the last day of midterm exams. Even though I was almost two weeks late, I managed not to be left behind in all lessons. And now, as I began to gently plow this garden with its wilted flowers, Mr. Gray arrived. And just like every time I saw him, my heart skipped a beat, and I always felt I had done something wrong, especially after that day that we went to my brother's grave.
"I guess we've all been busy, huh?" he said as he casually walked toward me. I admit it, I again expected to smell that brand of cigarette in him, but I didn't. He smelled just like all the other days.
"Oh, Mr. Gray, you're here. Yeah, you know, because of the midterm exam," I said, trying to avoid looking into his eyes.
"I see. But I'm happy that you manage to make the garden bloom with flowers," he then showed me the picture I sent him weeks ago.
"Yeah, but It's unfair that you don't have the chance to see them that day. Now it's wilted and some are already dried," I said.
"There's a lot of things that I have to do. I'm sorry," he replied, making me a little guilty. "And you students seem to make fighting a normal thing huh?" he continued. It's true. I heard it almost every day.
"Well, I guess that's just the way how people deal with problems nowadays, aggression."
"I guess you're right," he said as he released a contented sigh.
"You must be really stressed because of that,"
"No, not really," he began plucking the dried stems of the flowers, then asked me a question I didn't know how to answer.
"So how are you?" he asked, not looking at me. It took me almost 30 seconds before I answered.
I looked at him, but he was still focused on the dried flower.
"I... I'm good. Yeah, I think I'm good," I said, trying to sound casual, but the more I tried, I think the more I failed to do so.
"You know you don't have to be okay all the time right?" this time, he looked at me, half-smiling with the sun hitting his face. I can see that his eyes are not black but brown, almost like the color of the bark of an old tree. I was about to say that I understood, but he pulled out a flyer from his pocket and handed it to me. It was a flyer for the university talents night.
"I want you to join this year's talents night," he said, changing the rooftop vibe.
"I don't think I have any talents, to begin with, Mr. Gray," I chuckled.
"Really? I don't believe you."
"Yeah, I don't sing. I don't dance."
"Well, singing and dancing aren't the only talents that can be shown on the stage. Last year we had a student who breathes fire and there's even a full band," he explained. "Do you know how to play any instruments? Guitar, piano, flute?" he eagerly said while looking directly at me.
At this time, I could see that he really wanted me to join.
"But I don't..." I suddenly remembered that I used to play the harp together with my brother. "Harp," I said softly.
"What was that?" Mr. Gray said, taking a step near me.
"I used to play the harp before... With my brother," I can see that he is slightly surprised by what I said. He kept looking at me but didn't say anything. It seemed like he wanted me to continue, so I did. "My brother used to play the cello because he was a member of the orchestra, making my father very proud of him while the stupid me became more jealous, so eventually I told my Mom that I wanted to play an instrument too. And she told me that she used to play harp before. She's the one who teaches me," I let out a huge sigh after saying that. I'm also surprised that I could tell that story to anyone, let alone my teacher.
I looked at Mr. Gray only to see that he was not looking at me anymore. He was looking at the gradient sky painted with an orange and dark blue hue.
"You missed your mom now don't you?" he asked, still looking afar.
"I don't know... I mean she left us. Without a warning. One day I just woke up and she was not at the house anymore. And I know that she left us but I don't know why. You know, it was hard. I don't know who to blame."
"Maybe you don't miss your Mom but I know you wanted to know her reasons," and we looked at each other on that cue. "Maybe playing the harp again may help you ease whatever it is that you're feeling inside," he continued.
I just sighed again because I didn't know what to say. Mr. Gray seemed like he could look directly at me and tell me what was going on even if I, myself, was clueless. And the weirdest part is that I completely trust him.
I looked at the flyer again and said, "maybe I can try sir."
"That's the spirit Flavus," he then patted my shoulder as he smiled. The sky was now purplish, and the cold air began to arrive.
"What did I miss?" Only one person would be here beside me and Mr. Gray. Paul, but it makes me wonder why he was late for the sunset; the only thing that makes him go here every day.
"Oh, Paul. Not much, I'm just inviting Flavus to join the Talent's night. You should join too," he said.
"Nah, I joined a few years back and it doesn't end well. By the way, you have talent?" Paul asked teasingly, making me and Mr. Gray smile wide.
"Oh, stop right there Paul, I'm not saying that I will join, I said I'll try," I defended.
"He'll be playing the harp," Mr. Gray said.
"Harp? Like the angels?" the confusion on his face and his tone made me chuckle.
"Yeah, Like an angel Paul." Mr. Gray said, then lightly hit Paul in the head.
"So are you two going now? It's almost nighttime?" Mr. Gray asked.
"I guess I'll stay a little bit more sir," Paul answered, then went to the edge of the rectangular plot where he used to sit and watch the sun goes down.
"What about you, Flavus." His eyes suddenly became serious, but I was unsure if Paul could see them because he was looking at the urban horizon.
"I guess I'll be staying here for a while as well sir," then I smiled.
"Okay then, see you around and good luck," after he said that, he walked away.
Paul and I didn't speak for a while after Mr. Gray left until I decided to sit beside Paul.
"So, why are you late today?" I asked.
He looked at me with his brows furrowed.
"Late? For what?" he asked.
"For the sunset. The reason why you always spend your time here," I said matter of factly.
"And who told you that that is the reason why I always go here?"
"No one. I just knew. I mean, what else could it be?"
"There's another reason, you know," he said almost like a murmur.
"What?" I said
"What?" he replied.
"You said there's another reason. What is it?"
"I didn't say that."
"Yes you do, I heard it"
"You heard it wrong," he defended, but I am sure of what I hear.
"What did you say then?" I mocked.
"I... No nothing. I didn't say anything," he said, standing up
"Okay, fine," I said plainly, and he did not say anything anymore.
He just kept on looking afar, not saying anything. I think I might have offended him, so I try to stand beside him, but the sight of the dark and seemingly endless ground brings chills to my spine, making me back away immediately. Paul noticed it, and instantly his expression became worried.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked as he grabbed my arm, aiding me in not falling.
"Yeah, I'm just... I just become dizzy all of a sudden but I'm fine now," I said as my heart was still racing.
"Well, it's getting late and cold now, I think we should go," he suggested, and I think it is a good idea because I'm starting to get cold I don't know if it's because of the soft wind blowing or because of anything else.
"Yeah, I think that's a good idea," I agreed, and we left the rooftop.
As we were walking beside the road on the way to my dorm, where he was walking in front of me with his hands inside his pockets, I noticed that he was still a bit quiet. It's strange because he is usually talkative and almost doesn't stop talking about everything.
"Something wrong?" I asked, making him stop and turn to look at me.
"What?" he asked. Although I know, he heard it just fine.
"You're strangely quiet since we were on the rooftop is there something wrong?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said in defense. "Anyway, you're competing on talents night?" he continued, completely changing the topic.
"I already told you, I'm not hundred percent sure but I'll try," I said.
"Well, I know what you need," he said, and I don't know why but I could not help but be surprised by what he said.
"What?"
"You need a mentor," then he laughed.
"A mentor? Why would I need to have that?"
"You know to guide you. To help you accommodate your fans," I can now sense the hint of teasing in his tone.
"Stop it, Paul. I don't need a mentor, I can accommodate my fans just fine," I said as I continued walking toward my dorm.
"No, seriously. I can help you practice at least. Just tell me when." he said, putting his arm around my shoulder.
"I'll think about it. Besides I'm not entirely sure if I still have that harp. More so, if I still remember how to play."
"Don't think, you just do it okay?" he said, then let out a huge smile and stopped walking. I was too occupied by the thought of playing the harp again. I didn't notice we were in front of my dorm.
"Okay okay, I'll call our Yaya and have her find it, and maybe I'll give you a call," I finally assured him. "But if I didn't have it anymore then sorry," I clarified.
"Okay boss!" he said, halting to a salute. I poked him in his head and decided to went inside.
"I'll be going, you prick!"
"That was harsh, but I'll be going too. I have practice early tomorrow. See ya," he said and started going back in our school's direction. "Did he just accompany me here? That's weird," I thought to myself as I entered the elevator.
#
The following day, I called Yaya and was lucky that she could find it. Well, basically because she was the one who hid it in the first place.
The next afternoon, the harp arrived, wrapped in this huge brown box. The security guard helped me in bringing it to my room. He saw that it was heavy and that I was struggling to carry it on my own.
After I brought it to my room, I kept looking at the huge box, wondering if I should open it. This harp was my Mom's, and after she left, I never touched it anymore, until now.
Finally, I took out this big brown box and was surprised. The harp was still in great shape. Nothing changed from what I remembered except that It was the same as my height when I was sitting. And it also had no visible scratch or wear and tear.
I could not stop hearing Mom's voice speaking to me again.
"Son, you must remember that the harp must be clean by the way you play. If you do it like that, then you don't need to practice, it will just come instinctively to you. And you have to make sure to pluck every string with care to make sure that they are in good shape so that they don't need to be replaced," these are the things that she said to me when she first showed me how to play. "Now you just pluck the strings gently, one by one, and you can practice your tune." She continued.
I started flicking my fingers between the strings without thinking of any tune. I just wanted to feel the harp again. I started with simple tunes, the first tune I learned. After some time, I closed my eyes, and the tune came out more easily, and I was playing it the way I remember playing it in the past. As I was playing, I felt something different. It was like I could feel the wind even though my windows were closed. I can literally feel the wind and the warm glaze of the afternoon sun. But I kept on playing, and every time I played a note, I felt that it was getting warmer and warmer, like I was really there in a wide ricefield under a tree but still showering in the afternoon sun. I was looking at Mr. Gray again, but he seemed very different like he was a little younger. He looked at me and uttered words I couldn't understand because all I could hear was the tune I was playing and the sound of the wind traveling above the field. I continued to play until one string broke, bringing me back to my room.
The moment I stopped playing, I suddenly being engulfed with nostalgia, and there were tears on my cheeks. And I know it is not because of the thought of my Mom, but of that scene with Mr. Gray. I wiped my tears with my sleeve, then got up and looked at the harp. I took a deep breath and examined the string. One of the strings has been cut, maybe because no one has used it for a long time, it had worn out, and I have to have it replaced.
Still feeling a little heavy, I searched for the nearest shop that may sell harp strings. I looked it up on the internet and inquired about some of the numbers I found, but no chance. They only sell guitar strings.
After hours of searching, I decided to give up. I had no luck in finding the string I needed.
Exhausted and feeling heavy, I looked for my packet of cigarettes to ease myself, even if just a little. I was about to light one when I noticed this black cigarette sitting at the corner of my desk. It was the one from Mr. Gray. I stared at it for a while and contemplated whether to smoke it or not. I still don't know what brand it is, and I kinda miss its aroma that every time I see Mr. Gray, I expect to smell from him. I picked it up, lit it, and let out my first puff. I was suddenly struck by the strong taste of a new cigarette. I was tasting this different one from the cigarettes I used to smoke over the years.
I filled my lungs with this new taste of smoke and went to my terrace, where I could watch the sunset. Then I remembered Paul. Maybe he could help me look for strings. I tried to call him, but he wasn't picking up his phone. I tried a few times, but it was still unattended, making me a little annoyed and not noticing that I was huffing the cigarette heavily until only a little before the filter was left.
My terrace is now filled with the aroma of that cigarette, sweet and bitter but good, and it makes me feel calm like someone is with me and cares for me now. And the strange thing is, as I thought of it, all I can picture is Mr. Gray. But not as he is now but Mr. Gray as we are in the middle of that rice field.
And I was really there, smoke in my mouth and the sound of a harp playing in my mind while thinking, "So it is true, he really did appear to me," I thought to myself as I tried to remember what I saw, but all I can recall is a few vague images in my mind and a strong sense of deja vu. So I just kept thinking until the cigarette was gone.
I was about to go back inside when I saw Mr. Gray was also on his terrace watching the sun goes down. He, too, has a lighted cigarette in between his fingers. But he wasn't aware that I was looking at him. He just seemed so tired that he didn't want to be bothered.
My phone then rang so I went back to answer it, thinking it was Paul. But it is not. It's Mr. Gray. Quickly I went back to my terrace, and there he was. It was a bit dark now, but I knew he was facing in my direction. I answered my phone, still looking at him.
"Mr. Gray?" I greeted. "What's up, why did you call?"
"Hey, nothing in particular, it's just I smelled my cigarette a while ago making me light one as well. It's you, right?" he asked. I kept looking at him even though what I could only see was his silhouette and the red-orange tip of the cigarette.
"Oh, yeah. I think that was me," I answered plainly.
"By the way, how's your practice?"
"What do you mean? What practice?"
"The harp, for the talent's night, what else could it be," then the thought of the broken harp string comes back to me again.
"Oh, about that. I don't think I can join sir."
"Huh? Why?"
"The harp, it hasn't been used in a long time, and when I played a while ago - " crap! My phone died. I could see Mr. Gray looking back and forth to his phone and in my direction, and then he went inside his unit. After a minute, I heard a knock on my door. I rushed towards it, and I wasn't wrong. It was Mr. Gray, and as I expected, the smell of his cigarette lingered around me the moment I opened the door.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Oh!, I'm sorry my phone died sir," I said.
"No, I mean with the harp."
"Ah, one of the strings got broken and I can't find any store that sells harp strings so I guess it's the universe's way of telling me not to join," I reasoned out, although I am not particularly sure I didn't want to join.
"Can I see it?"
I bring the harp to Mr. Gray, and he examines it. He was stoking its crown and its pillar.
"Mr. Gonzo of the music club may know someone who sells this kind of strings. If we fix the harp, promise me that you'll join okay?" Mr. Gray said.
"O... okay," I responded, not thinking. The next thing I knew, Mr. Gray was talking to someone on his phone. As he did that, I returned to my room and put a shirt on.
"Okay, Mr. Gonzo. Thank you so much," I heard him say.
"Are you free tonight?" he asked as he hung up his phone.
Weirdly, I felt like stuttering and unable to answer. I knew what he meant, but I couldn't shake off this feeling that it seemed like he was asking me to go out on a date.
"Flavus?" he called my name, making me edgier.
"Ah... Y..yes, sir. Yes. What is it again?" I said, trying to sound as normal as I could but still unable to.
"I mean, are you free tonight because I asked Mr. Gonzo if he knew where we can find harp strings and he sent me the location where the music club gets theirs so... Are you in? You wanna fix your harp?" he said in a tone that, for me, is a proud one.
"Ah, that. Yes sure. I'm in," I said. Mr. Gray wore a smile. I noticed him holding something in his hand.
"Here, I also bought more of that cigarette I gave you earlier," he said as he held out a pack of cigarettes. "I'll be waiting for you in the lobby. I'll just get my jacket." He continued as he went out, only to leave the cigarette packet on my table.
After he left, I immediately took the packets of cigarettes and sniffed them. The smell once again dallies around me. I examine the packet to find what brand it is, but nothing is written on this plain black pack. I sniffed it again, and I could not stop thinking about him reviving this weird fluttering feeling in my stomach.
I went down to the lobby to meet him. I looked around and saw Mr. Gray. He saw me and smiled.
"How about we take my car?" he said as we went towards the parking lot. As we were about to approach his car, I took out the packets of cigarettes he had given me. He looked at them, confused.
"Since you're giving me these you might as well give me a light," I said.
"I brought my lighter, though," he said. I took a cigarette from the pack, lit it from his lighter, and took a few puffs.
"Where did you find it, sir?" I said as I admired the nice and fluid motion of Mr. Gray.
"It was two towns from here almost an hour ride without heavy traffic," he casually said.
"No. I mean this," I showed him the cigarette.
"Oh, why do you ask?" I was confused by the sudden change in his tone.
"Nothing, sir, never mind," he didn't say anything. He just smiled and went inside the car. I followed immediately after I finished the cigarette. Mr. Gray was looking at me as if he wanted to say something.
"So, what are you going to play at the talent's night?" he asked.
"Hmmm. I'm not sure sir, I still don't have any piece and besides, we are still not sure if there is a harp string on that shop," I said.
"That's okay. There's still one week before the talent's night. You can still practice," he said.
"Yes, that's right, sir," I replied as I remembered that particular tone again. "Can I ask you a question, sir?"
"Uh-hm." he nods as his eyes focus on the road.
"Remember when I said that I always dreamt of a particular scene," I can feel that his mood suddenly becomes serious, but he is still focused on driving.
"Yes, I remember. What about that now?"
"I... When I was young, my Mom teach me how to play the harp. And she teaches me this particular piece that she always plays. She plays it every time. It was not hard for me to learn the piece. At that time, it was just fine and ordinary to me but I was happy and light whenever I played it with her," the illumination of the street lights breaks the darkness inside Mr. Gray's car and gives me a chance to rob a glance at him. "But a while ago. When I was trying to play it. It seems like I was dreaming again but of a different scene. And just like the other one, it felt so real. So real that I can imagine the cold and fresh breeze of the ricefield lingering around me," I continued.
"Are you afraid?" he asked.
"I don't think so. I mean, I felt light and fuzzy that time. I don't think being afraid is the last thing I should feel that time," I answered.
"Then maybe it's your subconscious telling you that playing the harp may help you deal with what you're experiencing right now. I don't think it is a bad thing," he casually said. I admit that was not the reaction I was hoping for. And it makes me quite disappointed. I kept looking at him and waiting if there were something more than that plain and hollow answer. I waited, but there was none. He was just as focused on driving as he was before, so I just remained silent for the rest of the ride.160Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡPeSVN6H5lh
