The Past, the Present and the Piano

The Past, the Present and the Piano1

The ghost of Maria Lewis haunted the mansion and cast shadows upon the yellowing walls. Strange creatures would rear their heads and hiss, visible only when that brief flash of lightning illuminates the drawing room. Her murky past is visible in the remnants of her life, the souvenirs of her tumultuous journey towards death, scattered around the living room like mere spots of dust and grime. Now seventy years old, Albert Lewis sat down at his mother’s piano and ran his hands over the smooth keys. It brought back a rush of memories to his mind, memories that had been pushed into his brain but were now coming out, hot fiery lava. Anger and hatred filled his blood as he remembered his childhood, but they were soon replaced by an eerie calmness.2

Sophie Lewis sat down on the sofa, watching her brother play a tune that sounded as familiar as her childhood. She was unmarried, with hoary hair and hag-like features. Her once beautiful face was tarnished by wrinkles and warts-she had not aged as gracefully as her mother had. She looked at her mother’s portrait, hanging on the wall, her skin taut, even though Botox hadn’t been invented then, her blue eyes sporting a look of devilish intelligence. Her mother had always been elegant, and assured Sophie would be like her and grow up into a successful debutante. Ironically, none of the Lords and princes she showed her had ever captured Sophie’s heart-only one vivid memory still retained its place there.3

“You were always Mother’s favourite,” said Albert, breaking the icy silence between them. He noticed she was wearing his mother's favourite white gown, the same gown his mother had worn when he had left the house fifty years ago. A memory of her running after him, pleading, came to his mind. 4

“I was,” said Sophie stiffly. 5

“Sorry for not making it to the funeral.”6

“It’s okay. Mother didn’t want you to see her anyway,” said Sophie, trying to not sound guilty. Maria Lewis’ last wish had been seeing her only son, a wish Sophie had not fulfilled. She had had several ulterior motives for doing so, the most important being that she hated Albert.7

“You’re lying,” said Albert. He always knew when his sister was lying. They’d been inseparable as children. He knew each habit of hers, each oddity she possessed, and each fine quality that she had been gifted with. It was impossible to let any lie of hers escape his attention.8

“I am lying!” said Sophie furiously. “You don’t know what I went through! You were too busy being jealous to notice how Mother really treated me!”9

“I do,” Albert said coldly, “and I think you deserve it.”10

“Albert, please, we weren’t supposed to be like this,” said Sophie tearfully.11

*12

I looked at Sophie carefully. Was she lying again? After all, throughout our lives she had lied to me. She had made an umpteen number of false promises. Every time she got the opportunity, she used Mother’s favoritism for her to get the better deal. At first they had just been white lies, small and harmless, like a prank you played on someone. Then they became nasty, biting and acidic. Soon, I started seeing that there was no way she was doing it unintentionally. But I forgave her-I forgave her because she was my sister. Yet I had a suspicion Sophie would never be happy in my happiness.13

When we had grown up, Mama was aging, and wanted to me to find a bride. I had refused. I loved Elena with all my heart and I wanted to marry her. But Sophie could not bear the fact that her brother was courting a servant. She promised not to tell Mama about it, but the next day my Elena was gone, banished, and exiled. I searched the whole world for her, asked her family and friends, but they all ignored me. Sophie begged and apologized profusely. She threw herself at my feet and promised that it was her last lie. But my faith in Sophie was destroyed.14

I have lived all alone my whole life, and though I should be glad, I felt sad that Sophie had done the same too. I felt sad that we broke apart because of something as trivial as jealousy. But then, a mother’s love is so powerful, that you cannot help but crave the entire thing. Sophie had never liked sharing. 15

Now I had come back to the old house, which was full of memories, both happy and sad. The happy memories were those of Sophie and me playing in the garden and rolling around in the grass. It infuriated Mama which only made it more amusing. Then there was the time when Sophie had gone to a finishing school far away. I had missed her terribly, and Sophie had to, for as soon as one semester was over, she came home, came home to her elder brother. We shared a love-hate relationship, something that would constantly be in conflict and turmoil. 16

If only we could patch up again…no that's impossible. I will never forgive her for what she did.
*17

When we were children, I had made a pact with Albert that we would play together, study together, marry at the same time, and have an equal amount of children. Everything had been meticulously planned out, though we were only five years old. But we had broken the pact, and we were now paying the price for it. We were old, lonely and childless. We had no one to love us except ourselves. We were burdens of society, waiting for the day when Death would take us away to heaven-if he found us deserving that is. I don’t think I deserve Paradise-if the way I treated Albert is any evidence.18

But I still can’t help feel annoyed about how he never understood. He was always upset because Mama paid more attention to me than she did to him. After all, I was pretty and intelligent-Albert was dull and average looking. Mama had always been obsessed with society, about how after she started getting near and near to her deathbed; she would need someone to take care of the Lewis family’s image. She chose me, because she felt I was more talented than Albert. She also sent me to a finishing school. This always caused resentment in Albert.19

But he never noticed the torture I went through. He never saw that I had to learn sewing, dancing, French, dressing, flirting and singing-the list could go on and on. I had to learn how to impress men a decade older than me. Thankfully I stayed in the debutante circles only for two years-after that the men started dropping interest in me, as they needed younger brides.20

I found my love in an ordinary man-an artist. I dreamt how one day, when he’d saved enough money, he would whisk me off to Paris, and we’d stay there, like all the other poor struggling artists. It was an ideal romantic fantasy, though Mama scoffed at it. Despite her hatred towards him, I never thought she would go to the extent of paying him to stay away from me. And I never would have thought my darling Pierre would actually take money in exchange for separation from me. 21

I admit that it was I who separated Albert from Elena-I couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t see my brother enjoying his life when I’d not even recovered from my heartbreak. It was my revenge for his neglect. I went and spilt the beans to Mama and she did the same thing she did with Pierre-paid Elena to keep away from Albert. That grimy little girl immediately agreed-after all, a family of five was dependent on her for their livelihood. Poor Albert-he thought Elena had been forcefully removed from the estate.22

As he plays the piano, I laugh inside bitterly, thinking about how much like Mama I’ve become. I’m even wearing her gown, her satin white gown, the dress she was wearing on the day she died. Mama had kept the gown for when I would marry, but her dreams were shattered. Despite her best efforts, neither I nor Albert had made much of an impact on the society she so dearly loved. 23

I look at him, surprised by the moisture in my eyes, and plead with him that for once, for once we could get freed from Mama’s ghost and act like what we were when we were siblings-but he doesn’t pay attention to me. There’s a part of him that still doesn’t want to forgive, and it never will.24