Chapter 9

Piano Sonata
Mr. Fierro

The air was warm and humid, the heat was temped and still bearable without opening my eyes I knew exactly where I was.

The Glasshouse

I stared up at the dark starry sky as it was filtered through the slanted roof of the glasshouse. An impressive vine of orchid weaved its way onto my sight. Looking to the side my jacket and vest and tie have been removed and folded haphazardly on the floor

“Lucie ?”, I called

Using the jacket I wiped the moisture from my face and arms followed by the blood from where Lucie had struck me.

 I soon found that the back automatic sliding glass doors were sealed shut, air tight I feared. The facility itself was rather large, nearly the size of the football field that should be enough air

“Lucie”, I yelled but she was far off

There was a crash near the front of the glasshouse. Just a few inches from the front doors there was a smashed ceramic pot lying in a pile of dirt and unearthed oleanders on the floor.

“Are we going to die in here?”

“Ms. Delune ?”

She had come up from behind me with another ceramic pot in hand, she was still dressed in a dark blue and white dress with large gold buttons, now sprinkled with dirt. She stopped short and hurled the pot at the doors, this time leaving the smallest of scratches.

“This glass was created to withstand even the worst Upstate hurricanes”, I informed her, “. . . it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Ms. Delune was seemingly paired with fulfilling this punishment with  me.  I recalled seeing Roger in the rear view mirror and it suddenly seemed worth the trouble. I imagined his discomfort ,his fears still there was something distracting.

She sat against the door of the storage room, now using a pair of shear to cut the bandages off her fingers.

“. . .no water,  with all this heat ?”, she attempted to flex her fingers as the make shift splints fell off.

 I walked around the greenhouse looking for a way out. Not a single pane in the glass work was loose, the doors held firm. I wondered how many hours had passed since the accident, how long would Lucie keep us here ?

Ms. DeLune noticed my growing frustration.

“I don’t understand”, she said watching me, “she keeps us locked in that house for months and you barley notice yet now you seem concerned.”

“Silence”, I snapped her, “Damn it  Lucie, she has no right too—“

“Just as she has no right to use my body and yet you let her. “, Ms. DeLune began to follow me, “she has taken over your house, your work, your life and now your garden. What right does she have ? She has turned a place of sanctuary into a prison”

Turning, I nearly ran into her, she was becoming suspicious.

“Why did you take me to see my grandfather?” she asked

“I can’t tell you, I beg you not to ask”

I stepped backwards and toward the back of the facility, it had been so long since I had spent quality time in the glasshouse. Each plant was strategic placed with by genius species or lighting

I located a few liters of warm distilled water in a storage room. The sprinkler system had been turned off and for a fleeting minute I despised Lucie for killing my flowers.  

I stopped suddenly noticing the brilliant red roses, true I had seen them hundreds of times but had they always been this bright? Reaching for one I pricked my finger letting a single drop of blood run down.

Still leaning against the storage room Ms. DeLune,  was studying her hands intently. There were a few scars from where they had broken, but for the most part appeared smooth which was surprising for someone who made a living with their hands.
 
The warm air rose  quickly, finding  it cooler on the floor I found a place across from her.

She had a daisy in her hand, its petals tossed carelessly  across the floor.

“I’d always wondered”, Ms. DeLune said gracefully standing, “Why flowers, why rose gardens? I thought it was because they were beautiful.”

“I get it now”, she continued to terrorize the flower my eyes now following her every step, “These flowers these wild beautiful things, you like to tame them. The garden grows and dies at your command. It’s not about beauty it’s about controlling nature. . .like you couldn’t Lucie. Or your murder.”

“That is very good, Ms. DeLune”, I admitted after a while.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think”, she said

“And what of your music”

“I love music”, she said walking in a circle, “That’s all there is to it. I love writing it, teaching it, the keys beneath my fingers” she kneeled behind me, “I love. . . music.

Her knees softly hit the ground and she pressed her chest into my back, the uncovered skin of her arms was surprisingly cool to the touch. She wrapped her arms around mine the pads of her fingers finding mine.

She let go of my hands and began running her hands through my hair and around my neck.

It was eerily silent, not even the buzz of an insect or the howl of the wind. Soon I could feel nothing except the ground beneath me and her soft hands.  

My eyes began to grow heavy, I felt as though she were playing some tricking me. How could she not realize  how I was using her, how could she not realize that. . .

She stated to hum silently.

“I want to go home”, she kissed me, “don’t you”

“Yes, of course”, I could barely hear my own answer.

My home existed fifty years from here, that’s why I could not let her go. To find home would be to leave her behind.

I left this sad complex thoughts and allowed myself to drift off.
For the first time in months I almost slept through the night.

First light woke me up, it was a bright sunshine that was very uncommon this time of year. I awoke in a familiar house, a familiar room.

A shabby lean-too decorated only with  gingham curtains made from a dinner table. There were piles of books on the floor, the bed I was in creaked underneath me.

I was in the house. The house I remembered to have originally stood on the Fierro farm.

Everything was just as I remembered ; nothing  was new, every chipped cup, saucer and plate was out of place.

 Even the smell of fresh dirt and wood lingered in the house.

The only difference was there were no doors
.
I remembered the staircase I’d spend hours reading by, the halls that had been a sanctuary after working long hourse at the factory.

In a sense I was home, the heaven I had hoped truly existed.

Outside of a  makeshift window I saw the entire town going about their day. Faces I knew, names I had never bothered to learn.  In the center of it all was Lucie still in the midst of youth. She looked lost. She was looking for someone.

“Lucie”, I called to her for this was the far more gentle Lucie I was sure of it.

She could not hear me and began to wonder out of sight. I shouted for her to wait. I just need to find a way out. I was certain there had been a door here or there but they all ceased to exist.

I was going in a circles, from room to  room  searching for the doors, the way out. I had to get out.

It felt as if the room was spinning, still I was going to circles till I stopped.

Right in front of a woman veiled by an artfully grotesque masque.

“Ms. Delune?”, I recognized her before she slowly revealed her face, “How did you get in ?”

“Don’t your remember, Addison”, she looked me straight in the eye with sweet contentment, “You let me in.”

Mr. Fierro awoke with a start, reaching and feeling as if to see if I was still there.I found his hands and held on to them tightly before his hands slipped out of my grasp

“How did you . . .”, he began, now facing me

Mr. Fierro appeared confused at best, his expression quickly melted into a more relaxed one.

 He came closer, I knew his vision could be poor and given the terrible lighting in the greenhouse. I found his silver glasses, that had slipped out of his jacket, one of the lenses slightly cracked and slid them over his eyes.

I expected an air of recognition or possibly a thank you, instead he kissed me.

He traced and moved a strand of hair from my eyes. I was suddenly struck by how young he appeared, In the semi light I saw his cautious glances, a silent look as we shared far less innocent kiss. The back of his hand continued across my cheek over my chin stopping at my neck, he appeared fixated. lost only momentarily in thought.


She was so foolish.

Choke her.

A voice inside me said, I felt her pulse quicken and throb beneath my hand

Yes, Martin would certainly receive the message. All I need to do was find a chain surely Roger would get the message and then --

Then like a l unexpected fire my guard fell

She touched me.

Just barley

The tip of her ring finger pressed firmly against mine, her same soft hands that played the music that had so mesmerized me.

Kill her kill her

As if she could read my thoughts she pressed her lips hard against me, our hands now entwined tightly together.

I couldn’t breath and suddenly I needed to be closer to her, I pulled her up from the floor wrapping my arms around her, momentarily I broke our kiss, , her warm heated breath against my skin. I turned her chin to look into her dark eyes.

Swiftly,  I lifted her onto the table untill she looked into my eyes.

I remembered when I first saw her, what felt like years ago. It was impossible to think but I was not entirely sure what my life meant before her. At first I believed her to be an obsession like my gardening or books, something that would soon pass.

Still it never did.

“I have never told you any lies”, I told her suddenly finding it difficult to speak, “God forgive me. . .I love you”

It was a different kind of betrayal: against who I decided to be not long ago and the person I suddenly wanted to be.

“I know”, she said closing the space between us, “I’ve always known”

She took my wrist into her hands I watched her carefully unfastened my cuff links pushing back the sleeves placing a light kiss on the thin skin, she looked back up at me unsure.


His skin was smooth and clear. I pulled back the sleeves not finding one imperfection, yet the flaws were everywhere.

My arms settled around his neck my lips touched the just barely visible bare skin above the collar. I felt a low rhythmic adrenaline running through my body, lost in the touch of his tongue between my lips.

“I told you you would never take the place of my wife”, he said, “now you may have it”

I wasn’t afraid, I wasn’t fighting a ghost I was being exactly where I wanted to be. Maybe I had missed it while caught up in my life but I’d found the happiness I’d lost somewhere along the way.

Would I ever have my chance for forever with her ? Time it seemed was still the enemy

“Say yes to me”, I whispered to her

 She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t’ answer instead planting a firm grasp on my collar pulling me  onto the table until I hovered just above her. I watched her hands work the buttons on my shirt.

I was certain I was lost in a dream a fleeting apprehension.

“A daughter”, I reminded her, “Shouldn’t sin against her father.”

“Well, if we must sin let’s us sin together”
 
It was raining, but only lightly.

It was raining indoors ?

I opened my eyes as the indoor sprinklers misted me with cold fresh water, fully awake I sat up and let the water and the night wash over my disheveled appearance.

The water cut off and I realized I was alone. I pulled myself off the floor and noticed a trail of dirt that dragged from the front doors. The doors remained air tight I once again felt locked away.

 I followed the trail towards the back of the glass house and found Mr. Fierro replanting the flowers I had thrown at the doors yesterday. He appeared distracted from his work and far from his usual neat appearance, only glancing at me as I came closer.

“I’m sorry”, I said motioning to the plants. I took the trowel  and filled the pot with a little more dirt, replacing the flowers back to where they belonged.



I walked around till I found some roses, he was still watching me as I clipped a few flowers with a bright yellow with brilliant pink petals, they had a strong earthy smell like apples that lingered on my hand when I touched them.

“Shouldn’t you be bringing me flowers--”

“Beloved”, he, “Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers Plucked in the garden, all the summer and winter through”

He took my hands as if to dance  but neither of us moved and began to whisper in my ear,

“. . and it seemed as if thy flowers grew In this close room, nor missed the sun and showers. So, in the like name of that love of ours. . .

Take back these thoughts which here unfolded too, And which on warm and cold days I withdrew from my heart’s cold ground. take them, as I used to do Thy flowers, and keep them where they shall not pine. Instruct thine eyes to keep their colours true, And tell thy soul, their roots are left in mine.”

Still as his lips were cool against my neck, his words were still tinged with a subtle bitterness.

I had always been terrible with words, I could however speak through my music which I at the moment was without.

“You are very peculiar, Mr. Fierro”

“Peculiar how”, he seemed interested

“A lovely type of Peculiar” I said, “although I’d rather hear your words than Ms. Browning’s”

“. . . you are very beautiful, then”

“I find you are a little beautiful, too”

Even though I had said it I began to understand how the glasshouse could be a type of sanctuary, stepping out of one world and into a simpler prettier one.

“I really do want to go home”, I said watering the unblossomed daffodils.

“I know”, he said rather plainly, “I promise when the time is right I will save you”

“You have to”, I said,” You are the only one who can”

I held carefully to that promise and to some extent still do.

As irrational as it was I prayed for time to slow down, though time had never been kind.

Alone, in the warmth of the glasshouse I watched the sun break into twilight. The absence of light silhouetting the woods and whatever lay in the distance. Clara’s presence suffocated and drowned me in the most delightful of ways . . . still I wanted for a tinge of  the loneliness I had for years wrapped myself in.

I imagined she watched me, perhaps from a close distance. I fathomed to think she must have understood. The sun fell slowly and I waited for the first signs of night, the shimmer of the evening stars.

Instead I heard the quiet groan of the doors open.

The cold air slipped in quickly, I began searching for Clara in the evening light but she was no where to be found.

“Clara ?”, I called approaching the glasshouse doors, they opened instantly

Outside she was not 5 or 6 yards away from the glasshouse, walking at an even daunting pace.

“Clara”, I called again still she did not answer. I chased after her calling her name over and over again and still she continued to walk away.

I lost my footing and fell into the frosted ground, my muscles ached with a sharp pain that I new to be all in my head. My voice found her name one last time before breaking into a harsh dry sob.

The temperature quickly dropped, I shivered forcing myself from the ground.

“I promise, I promise”