The Mute and the Liar (49 page)

He
walks
backwards,
holding
both
my
hands,
and
leads
me
into
his
bedroom.
I
can't
imagine
what
will
await
me
there,
how
special
or
heavy
my
present
is
that
he
could
not
just
bring it
to
me.
With the
excitement
ringing
in
his
eyes
and
the
ecstatic
rippling
grin
on
his
face,
I'm
starting
to
think
he's
somehow
transformed
his
room
into
a
spaceship
for
me.

I'd quite like
a
spaceship…

My
birthday
present
is
not
a
spaceship.

Disappointment
is
an
understatement.

It
doesn't
appear
to
be
anything
actually,
coming
to
think
of
it. Where
is
it?
What
is
it?
This
is
getting
frustrating.
I
got
promised
a
present
and
there
are
clearly
no
presents
here.
I
want
my
present!
There's
the
double
bed
cloaked
in
white
sheets,
the
mirror
wardrobe,
the
sea
foam
green
walls,
the
piano
in
the
corner
by
the
window.
Everything
is
exactly
as
it
was
yesterday.
The
only
thing
different
about
this
room
is
the
person
leading
me
into
it,
who appears, luckily, to be in
a
much happier mood than then.

It
already
seems
a
lifetime
ago
since
he
was
hyperventilating
in
my
arms.
I
was
careless;
I
almost
spoke.
The
words
were
there,
they
had
already
hooked
their
pickaxes
to
the
air
outside,
they
were about
to
escape.
It
was too
close.
I
can't
let that
happen again.

“
Come
on;
don't
just
stand
there,
”
he
shatters
through
my
dislocated
thoughts
and
jumps
over
to
the
piano
-
yes,
jumps,
in
an
odd,
animalistic
way;
a
s
though
suppressing
transforming
into
a
rabbit.

He
plants
himself
on
the
right
side
of
the
piano
stool
and
motions
me
to
sit
next
to
him.
Cautiously,
I
pad
over
to
him,
my
footsteps
leaving
their
marks
on
the
fluffy
white
rug
below.
I
sit
down,
but
the
piano
stool
is
too
small
really
for
the
both
of
us,
made
even
worse
by
the
fact
I
am
subconsciously
pulling
away
from
him
and
so
I
am
left
half
hanging
off
the
end.

“
It's
just
something
I
have
been
working
on.
It's
not
very
good
or
anything, but
I
hope
you
like it.
”

He
lifts
the
lid
of
the
piano
and
waits
for
the
room
to
still.
Slowly,
he
presses
one
of
the
keys,
and
the
high,
haunting
note
hums
in
the
air
for
a
few
seconds.
He
hangs
his
head,
hunches
his
shoulders,
almost
protecting
the
piano,
and
I
wonder whether he even realises
he is doing it. There is
a
sudden
concentration
creasing
his
eyebrows
and
clogging
up
his
pupils
like
thick
cement.

His
fingers
begin
to
clamber
along
the
piano
keys
in
a
gentle,
unpredictable
way.
It
all
melds
together
beautifully
-
the
soothing
low
notes
and
the
peppering
of
haunting
high
notes.
They
sends
a
tingling
feeling
across
my neck and lodge themselves into my throat. I'm... speechless.

And
then
he
starts
singing,
his
voice
low
and
husky
and
although
occasionally
crackles
over
the
higher
notes,
it
still
sends
goosebumps
shivering
all
over
my
skin.
The
song
is
slow
and
simple,
but
the
emotion
he
breathes into every word is raw and real and
I
almost forget how to breathe.

*****

I
know
the
asphalt
cracked
your
throat

So
just keep
speaking
in
your
thoughts

And
I
know
you're
not
really
there
 

So
keep
praying
you
won't
get
caught

It's
true
that
it's
hard
to
see
the
light

When
you
only
see
regret

And
I
know
this
doesn't
mean
anything

But
it's
never
been
harder
to
forget.

Because
it's
just
no
good

You're
too
proud
to
crawl
 

You
want
to
hear
me
tell truths

I
want
to
hear
you
say
anything
at
all

The
mute
and
the
liar

What
a
funny
pair
we
make

I'd
tell you it's
all just
a
game

But
that
would
give
the
game
away

It's
going
to
be
a
bumpy
ride

But
it
will be
over
far
too
soon

And
I'd
tell
you
to
hold
onto
your
mind

But you've
already
lost
that,
haven't
you?

You
must be
an
addiction

You've
seeped
into
my
bloodstream

I
know
this
makes
no
sense

But
does
anything
in
our
dreams?

Keep
singing
at the
top
of
your
thoughts
  

On
this
carousel
of
lies