Nocturne
Chris always played the same song when he felt emotional, Nocturne, again and again, as if he never tired of it, I felt sorry for his situation, but I could not stand the song once more, so I left without hesitation. The night was freezing in the city, the lights lit every street, every sidewalk, the cars passed by as if it were the rush hour. Those days there was a lot of movement in the city, and it was to be expected since we were on Christmas eve. I loved December, the cold weather, the colored lights, the decorations, everything, but for Chris it was not the best of dates, I knew I had to understand him as a good sister, to understand that instead of enjoying, he liked to lock himself in lounge, sit right in front of the fireplace, watch the fire take its sighs and listen to Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, or with some more encouragement, watch him take the bench and sit at the piano to play Chopin's Nocturne. It's not that I hated music, I hated that he played that song, as if in each note he could bring her back to life, as if he could never be able to forget it, it was a memory that invaded his mind at every moment, his dreams night after night, a ghost that came to hurt him more. I remember the day he brought her home, pale skin, brown eyes, long lashes, beautiful hair. Lucille was the prettiest girl in the whole university, Chris said that, and Mama was right, I admit it, she was pretty, but not to exaggerate. Lucille was a scrawny woman with a sickly face, or at least that's how I remember her, the day she died. For me her death was not such a shocking event, but Chris never recovered from it, she was twenty when it happened, and she did it right in his arms. I remember my mother's face, my own face, although everything is blurred after all that. I can go back to that night in my mind and disgust myself with that stench of medicine, of suffering, of death. I can't listen to Nocturne, no anymore, I remember the night he played it for her, I remember how I saw her, how he lost himself in what he called beauty, but how beautiful was a cold person, full of secrets, a hypocrite ...
To be continued
