• Is it wrong that this is the one place that I wanted to be today?

    I clicked on the light, gazing mindlessly at the piano in front of me. My nostrils filled with the scent of the rich maple of the piano, and I felt ill at ease. Criminals always return to the scene of the crime, but I doubt even they felt as guilty as I did in that moment.

    I sat down in front of my eighty-eight best friends, cracking my knuckles. There was a somber feeling in the air, so I gravitated more toward minor chords than I normally would, and the rhythm was so incredibly slow. This definitely is a departure from what I like to play. He noticed. "You're early"

    "What's bothering you, Zooey?"

    "I would be lying if I said 'nothing,' so I'll go with 'I'd rather not talk about it' instead."

    He chuckled, sitting down on the bench beside me. "I know that you aren't one of my students, but I think I have a few minutes to discuss the power music can have on your moods."

    I looked over to him, ready to plead. "Vincent, please don't..."

    It was too late. He had already wrapped his left arm around me while his right hand began to play the beginning melody to The Entertainer. His steely blue eyes stared into mine, sparkling the smile he wanted mine to have.

    "Now, see? You can't help but feel batter if you play something happy instead of pitying yourself with whatever depressing piece you were plucking at.

    I felt so foolish for even being there. I pulled away from him, wiping the newly forming tears from my eyes with the backs of my hands. He was just trying to cheer me up, and I wished that he was able to right then. That he always would be.

    "Zooey, what the hell? Something is seriously wrong with you today."

    "I j-just wanted to come and play in here one last time today. I won't be coming back; I don't think it's appropriate anymore. You know why."

    I could hear him blink, thinking of how to best proceed. He took a minute or two, opening and closing his mouth, changing his mind on the wording of the statement he was formulating. "But you'll still come to the wedding, won't you?"

    "I promised that I would."

    "I'll see you next weekend, then."

    "Yeah. Again, congratulations, Vincent."

    "Thank you, Zooey."

    I grabbed my bag and skittered out into the hallway. Vincent's 4:00 student, Bree, was standing there, so I motioned her into the practice room. I slid down the wall next to the door, my knees to my chest, as I fumbled through my purse. Finally, I procured the cardboard and plastic tube I meant to leave on the piano before he showed up. What a hideously pink plus sign that appeared in front of me.

    Vincent had found his dream woman, so this wouldn't make any difference.

    I wept.