Coda

You were humming something different today. The melody had the same temperament of the calm murmurings that used to creep across the church pews, tickling the crackled glass. I had seen what was left of one on my way, a great sharp gothic beast now simmered down to dust and stone. Nothing grows here any more. You wore a smile that cracked at the edges, standing amongst the rubble in your massive coat. God had long since left this place but there you stood in place of them like a harrowing Saint, your skin so chalky and still much like all the silent statues watching you. You would never speak, only hummed Liszt or these days it was your versions of Brahms but today I couldn’t place it. The sound filtered out to me through the jagged stone. I looked away, my spine rattled without permission. I’d like to think you’re running in another life now and that maybe I’d see you there one day but you’re always here, with me. How is it to watch the world change alone?

Tom nodded absently at me from behind the counter. The screeching hinges of Jerry’s Milk Bar door signalling my expected Tuesday arrival. I ruffled my coat, drops of rain spattering onto the tiles as Jerry bounded up to me shoving his wet muzzle into my crotch, our usual greeting. I ruffled his coarse hair and slid into my usual booth. The diner was empty apart from a dark haired kid sitting up at the counter, their feet swinging a foot and a half from the offensively patterned floor. I checked my satchel absently, I was early.

“I’ve got some real stuff in the back. It’s expensive mind…” said Tom as he crept over to my booth. I nodded, mouth salivating at the thought of actual coffee. The smell of it would probably alert them from a mile off but I’d chance it today. They had banned coffee or the import of it, they had banned a lot of things. Most recently the thing that I had a stack of on my person.

The kid at the counter turned when Tom dropped a steaming pot of coffee off to my table with a hand that clattered so hard my teeth ached. The kid could smell it from here. He turned back without saying a word and I lowered my face over the cup taking a deep breath in. Tom was grinning and nodding me on behind the counter like a wicked little child who’d disobeyed his parents. I took a good slurp not caring that it scorched my tongue.

The door screamed again bringing with it foul, cold air, my 3 o’clock. Clawed digits peeled away a jacket and settled onto the table before me. His eyes dodged to the window and back.

“What have you got?” He asked, itching forward.

“A few things, what are you looking for?” I said. It was best to be straight forward with these ones. Give them one excuse and they’ll report you or worse get caught with a nice little trail leading straight back to me, and Tom. He glanced out the window again.

“They don’t come here you’re safe. Safe enough.” I said.

“Anything, I’ll take anything.” His gaunt chin moved sharply.

“Transfer me first.” I said. He slid a plastic coin across the table. I fed it into my device and handed it back with a nod. He reached for the paper at a painfully slow speed. Then a rush of cold air and he was gone. Not even a spec of gratitude. That one had taken me three weeks to compose. Little return for dealing sheet music, I needed to get my hands on some real stuff, some classics that I could transcribe. Maybe I should team up with a sight singer and sell their services, too risky to get someone else involved. Such an unspeakable thing, you’ve gotta expect to burn.

A figure plodded past the window. Even through the rain I knew it was you. My hands curled and I shut my eyes. The door screeched for the third time. Not now please. Someone started humming and it wasn’t you. The kid, they were humming. The dark head had not turned to the open door where you now stood, your hand slick with blood gripping the handle. The kid hummed, that same song that I could not recognize. Tom rushed out from the back his eyes wide, scanning for the source.

“Stop that! Stop! They’ll hear you.” Said Tom his hands gripping the counter, knuckles turned blue. The kid smiled and continued. Tom’s mouth gaped open, stuck. The humming grew louder. The kid turned to me, sad brown eyes locked on as the same tune kept repeating louder and louder. It thickened the air.

I was kneeling next to you, the cold air stinging my eyes and nose. My knees were wet, I looked down to the pool of hot red blood. I lifted your chin as your hands held your stomach together in a mess of red.

“I’m dying.” You said with a smile. It’s like you slipped your bones into someone else’s frame. Only to panic when you realised I could no longer recognise your smile.

“I know. We’ve done this a hundred times. What do you want?” I pleaded, shaking your face with my hands. The humming threw shards into my ears so steadily I thought they ought to be bleeding, like fingers in my brain. The back door slammed, Tom had vanished.

“They have something to show you.” Said the kid behind me without a break in the sound. Faces started popping up against the windows, drawn by the music. They’d be coming now, they would’ve heard in their trucks on their dials and switches and machines. We’d be dragged away.

“What do you want? You’re going to kill us all!” You simply smiled and looked over at the kid.

“I want you to hear.” You said. I looked back at the kid sitting so calmly humming away, though the noise had come apart from just the child, it was in the air. I shook my head wildly. The faces filled the windows, people stunned by the sounds they had been deprived of for so long. All grown in the same fear, some so young they may have never heard a note or an instrument. They pushed through the door now, the diner was full. They grabbed at the air trying to figure out the source. Their ears were bleeding.

They barged through the crowd knocking me to the ground. As they dragged the dark haired child away you looked so pleased.

“Look.” You said. I watched with the others as the sound and it’s source left the building. You grabbed my hand, it felt real. Your fingers even had the little callouses, like your father once had. Little protrusions, rough and worn from the strings. You held her locket, the heart shaped one we bought for her.

“That is our child.” You said with that cracked, sad smile.