Original Work: You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home, Chapter 8, Part 5
Chapter 8, Part 5
Abandoning the search for the tennis ball momentarily, I went over to the building and tried the door handle, sticking my head inside when the door swung open. A hallway stretched in front of the door and I could see a door off to the right and the start of another hallway a few feet beyond the door. I couldn’t see anyone inside or any indication of what the building might be used for, aside from the piano that filled the hallway. Buster pushed past my legs and trotted into the building, seeming to feel completely at home.
I followed Buster down the hallway and toward the direction that the music seemed to be coming from, flipping on a light. The walls were decorated with framed magazine and newspaper articles dealing with Emilia and her rise to international fame. Some of them dated as far back as ten years ago, when Emilia was trying her hand at singing in state fairs and in local talent contests. I guess everyone really did have to start somewhere.
At the end of the hallway was a large room separated from the rest of the building by floor to ceiling glass windows. The room was also divided by glass, separating what looked like a miniature recording studio, complete with sound boards, computers and chairs, from a room with a grand piano, several other instruments leaning against the wall, more chairs and microphones. The doors to both rooms were propped open, which explained why I could hear the sound of the piano so loudly and clearly and seated at the grand was Emilia, her back to me, her fingers moving deftly along the white and black keys. Now that I was inside, I could hear that she was singing occasionally, or humming and there was a notebook propped open in front of her, but most of the time she was letting the piano do the talking.
Before I could stop him, Buster went into the studio part of the room and though I followed him in, trying to grab his collar, he went into the room where Emilia was playing. I hesitated in the doorway, not entirely sure that my presence would be appreciated by my warm and welcoming sister.
Buster went over to Emilia and stuck his nose under her elbow, causing my sister to jump in surprise. She turned away from the piano and looked at the dog in confusion. “How did you get in here?” She scratched his ears and looked up.
When she saw me standing in the doorway, Emilia jumped again. “Sorry, it’s just so weird, I feel like I’m looking at myself.” This was definitely the nicest tone I’d ever heard her use with me or, to be completely honest, anyone. Her tone was casual, like the words were escaping before she could remind herself that she wasn’t supposed to be happy, cordial and normal. “Does that happen to you?”
I shrugged. “Not really, but I’m used to seeing you on TV. Or in magazines. My friend Jordan always…” I stopped short, figuring that Emilia might not care about Jordan’s obsession with celebrities and Hollywood. Besides, I didn’t want to waste Emilia’s good mood on talking about Jordan’s addiction. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, he just kinda…ran in here.” I gestured toward Buster, who was sitting beside the piano, his tail thumping the ground. “You’re really good at playing.”
“Thanks.” There was no genuine gratitude in her tone when she spoke, just the knowledge that she was talented and that everyone should acknowledge that fact. Emilia glanced back at the piano.
I inched a little closer into the room. “What are you playing?” I had to admit that I wasn’t actually an avid fan of my sister’s musical career, so if she was playing a song off a CD she’d all ready released I would have absolutely no idea.
Emilia looked at the notebook spread open on the piano. “A new song I’m writing. Trying to iron out the details.”
“Do you write all your own music?” I questioned. It was a good thing no one had asked me any intimate details about Emilia’s creative processes, because I really would have been flying blind on that subject.
Emilia shrugged. “Here and there.” She shut the notebook like she didn’t want me to see what she had written down. “Do you play?”
I laughed at her question. “Yeah right, I don’t have a single musical bone in my body.”
My words seemed to make Emilia very happy. “I guess we’re not exactly alike after all.” Her tone was smug and was reverting back to the tone I was used to hearing whenever I spoke to my sister.
I cleared my throat. “You know, Emilia, I’m not trying to take your place or anything.” I blurted out before taking the time to think about how she might take my words. “I just…I’m not really sure why I came here. Your mom asked me to and it seemed really important to her but…the last thing I want to do is…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence, because the last thing I wanted to do happened to be everything I was currently doing. I was signing her name on autographs, taking pictures with her fans, starring in her commercials, doing her interviews. I was living her life and she was sitting at home. I decided not to finish.
Emilia arched an eyebrow, seeming to know exactly what I had just been thinking. “Look, Scout, I think it’s real noble of you to come out here and help the mom you never knew to get on her good side, but we both know that you’re never going to be me. You can’t do the things that I can do.” I knew this was true, because I would never be able to sing and perform, which was what Emilia was all about. “I’m just waiting for Mom to figure out this just isn’t going to work, so I would enjoy yourself while you can.” There was to old Emilia. For a minute there, I was starting to think that we might actually be on the road to forming a sisterly relationship.
I couldn’t keep myself from remarking, “I enjoy myself a lot more when I’m not around you.” Maybe we were alike in some ways after all.
“That makes two of us.” Emilia replied jauntily.
Though I knew that I was doing exactly what Emilia wanted, I turned and left the room without another word, somehow managing to resist the urge to slam the door shut on my way out. Buster remained at Emilia’s feet, thumping his tail innocently. Traitor.
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