No, it wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t need to be. Without even meaning to, she began to hum along. It was bittersweet, and familiar, to hear the keys ring out; she could almost see herself playing along to the melody. Her fingers moved as though to play it out in the air, awkward as though her movements were with two casts, she still persisted.
In that moment, all she could see, hear, feel was the music. And she never wanted the song to end, each note ringing out and saying what it needed to say in that moment.
She stopped. It wasn’t a flash of memory anymore, not just a glimpse.
She wasn’t in a hospital bed anymore. She was at a grand piano on an empty stage– and Rachel was there, too. She couldn’t hear anything but the music, but she could see Rachel’s mouth moving; singing. And she realised her mouth was moving too. A duet.
Even though she couldn’t hear them, she knew their harmonies were perfect, complementing each other and challenging the other go further, to push the limit of their talents. And she was smiling as she was singing, watching Rachel pour her heart into the lyrics as they sang back and forth, enjoying the art they were dedicating themselves to.
But as quickly as she had been offered that one memory, she was pulled back to her hospital bed, with Rachel playing at her side.
She didn’t know how long it had been. How long she’d spent in that reminiscence, but it didn’t matter. She’d remembered something clearly. It wasn’t groundbreaking, it wasn’t a key point in her life– but it was something.
And she couldn’t be more delighted.
She looked over to Rachel, tears of happiness welling up. “I remember–” Her voice cracked as she tried to speak, a genuine, true smile plastered across her face. “You were my friend,” She said, chuckling slightly. She was sure she seemed unstable, but she’d been desperate for something to come back. Anything.
Rachel had given her that gift. For that, she would be forever in her debt.
Rachel looked up from her sad but hopeful attempt at playing the piano with a broken wrist and as soon as she noticed the tears in Erica’s eyes she felt a pang of guilt. Had she upset her? She came here to try music therapy because forcing memories was only going to confuse her more. If Rachel left her room without helping any memories come back to her that would have been okay because she had fourteen broken ribs and that was enough to keep her hospital bound for a while. She’d come back tomorrow and the next day and play for Erica until something clicked.
Rachel’s hands stilled on the piano, ready to apologize for upsetting her when she spoke. Her voice was soft. Broken. Genuine. Rachel smiled softly and almost felt guilty for not pointing out that Erica didn’t always like her. But now was not the time for that because Erica was happy and that’s one reason Rachel came to her room. To help. Rachel nodded her head and she reached out with her good hand and gave her arm, albeit covered in a cast, a soft squeeze.
“You are my friend.” Rachel’s voice was soft. Maybe Erica would wake up and remember everything soon. Maybe she’d remember not liking Rachel. Maybe she’d be upset for skirting around the truth. But Rachel was willing to reap those consequences because Erica needed someone right now, like everybody else. “You’ve pushed me to be better without even trying.”
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