I composed a piece.
It’s nothing great, but I’m happy I could finish it. I told you, right, how I always wanted to be a composer?
That was my destiny, or so I thought.
But then I met your dad, and he became my destiny.
I forgot everything else.
Life with him is larger than any dream I ever had. But some days, like today, I imagine how things would have been if I hadn’t met him at that café. In any case, I cannot see myself being as happy as I am with him.
I’ll keep the piece here, if someday you want to play it with me.
Mom.
On the next page, I find a small white paper pasted in the journal. There are only eight measures, and as I read them, I imagine my fingers over the piano keys.
I can hear the music. It’s beautiful, but sad.
I imagine Sophia sitting at her piano, writing this music.
Was she thinking about her kidnapping? Was she scared? So far, she hasn’t said anything about those incidents.
* * *
Zander lies peacefully on the yellow picnic mat, his aviators hiding his eyes. His fingers skim my ankle before he grabs my foot and places a kiss on my instep.
“Zander. There are kids in the park.”
Before him, I didn’t know kisses on places like my instep and toes could be so arousing.
He just smiles and places my feet back on his chest.
I peep once more at his handsome face before opening the journal.
Today, it opens on the first page.
My baby,
I don’t know what to say, but there is so much I want to.
I just took the test last week, and when the doctor confirmed I was pregnant, your dad got me this journal.
He thinks I might like talking to you, as I’m not talking to him much these days.
You don’t know what you have given us. You came at a time when I was close to thinking my life was over.
Yesterday, in the kitchen, I looked at the knife and thought of…
But then I thought of you. I couldn’t do that to you.
And later, I resented myself for even thinking about something like this.
What would happen to your sister?
It would kill your dad.
You saved me, my girl.