Sad Songs

Another painful creative writing assignment, but longer.

Lila watched from the couch. Her legs were crossed, one over the other. Her bare foot was swinging in the air like a metronome. The windows of the apartment were open. Hundreds of little lights outside were on in hundreds of different houses. Raymond’s apartment was only lit by one. The standing lamp in the corner was yellow.

The piano keys were tinted yellow from the lamp. Raymond looked up from the table the keyboard was resting on when he had finished holding the last note of the nocturne. The hem of Lila’s white dress bounced back the lamp light a brighter yellow. She switched legs, letting the other foot dangle over the floor. Her face was just beyond the circle of light.

“Which one was that?” she asked. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray on the windowsill. The corners of her mouth lifted. Her lips stayed together.

“Chopin,” he said. He played part of the first bar again.

“It was beautiful. I think I like that better than the last one. What was the last one, again?”

“That was Beethoven”

She hooked her arm around the armrest and looked at the circles she was drawing with her fingers in the suede.

“Yeah, Chopin’s was better. It was sad. I love sad songs. They have more feeling”

Raymond turned back to the keyboard. He pressed his fingers lightly to the keys. He stared out across the room. His fingers hovered over the keys and twitched. The air from the window formed a cool spot on his back. He looked down. He began to play the opening bar.

“Yesterday,” he sang, “all my troubles seem so far away.” He turned his head over his left shoulder.

Lila leaned forward, her chin in her palm, her elbow on her thigh. Her foot bobbed up and down. Her face caught the light of the lamp.

Raymond turned back to his fingers.

“Now it looks as though they’re here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday” He smiled to one side. His movements warmed the spot on his back. “Why, she, had to—“

“Suddenly,” Lila belted, “I’m not half the man I used to be.”

Raymond rearranged his hands, first hitting the wrong note then finding the next one in time. He straitened his back and shook in a shiver.

“There’s a shadow hanging over me” She pressed each word down like a stamp on paper.

Raymond scrambled to adjust the tempo. He stretched his back and rolled his neck around.

“Oh, yesterday came suddenly.” Her voice was sharp and clear. It bounced off the walls and seemed to come from everywhere. She stared at the floor.

Raymond looked at her, at her moving lips, at her eyes, then at the spot on the floor that held her attention.

“Why, she, had to go. I don’t know, she wouldn’t say.” She looked up at him. Her smile showed her teeth as she sang. “I said something wrong. Now I long for yesterday” She shifted through the notes smoothly like a bow gliding across strings.

Raymond’s hands were hanging over the back of his chair, turned sideways. The keyboard was silent.

“Yesterday, love was such an easy game to play” she folded her arms in her lap, holding her elbows. “Now I need a place to hide away. Oh, I believe in yesterday” She paused in between some words for instrumental notes, but the pauses were in silence.

“MmmmmMM” she hummed. She leaned back, her face sliding beyond the light.

Cheaters

Creative writing assignment that gave me hell. I had to come under 300 words. My first draft was 500. I had to be ruthless. I felt like I was hacking my words up like an axe murderer, only letting the good kids survive. It needed to be done.

That morning, Cheryl came home to a hole in the wall and ice trays in a puddle on the kitchen floor. On the counter was a note from her roommate.
“Darren isn’t allowed back in the house. Don’t pick up if Cynthia calls. Your boyfriend called”
She went into her room to change then left to catch the bus to the gym.

“Have fun going out with the team?”
Cheryl looked up from the water to see Josh standing over her.
“I lost my phone,” she said. She pulled herself up and set her elbows on the edge of the pool.
“Yeah, I tried calling you last night.” He sat down on the floor, beyond the puddle formed by her arms.
Cheryl put down her arms and held on to the edge of the pool with her fingertips. She looked up at him, but made no sound.
“I know you cheated,” he finally said, “I’m surprised they haven’t caught you yet.”
“What?” Cheryl asked.
“I saw you push off from the block just before the start,” he explained, “You got lucky, especially since you only won by an inch.”
“It was an accident. I’ve never cheated before,” she said, “Well, except at Heads Up, Seven Up as a kid.” She would peek between her arms, watching kids’ shoes scurry around until she felt a tap on her thumb. She never got caught.
“Josh,” she said.
“Yeah?” he waited.
“I cheated”
“I know,” he put his hands on hers, “don’t get caught”
He helped her out of the water.
“What time did you get home last night?” he asked, holding out her towel.
“Around one,” she replied.
At one, a streetlamp was showing through a bedroom window, illuminating her phone on the floor next to her dress.