The Figure

Chapter One - Being Fifteen

We live in a time where things that are not real fill our imaginations so we can escape from the world in front of us. Even the people with the best of lives do it. Everyone needs time to escape.

My escape was my piano. I focused my heart, my soul and my sadness on each and every key that would, piece by piece, take my suffering away. No one could touch me or get to me while I was playing.

My love for this one thing somehow made me an outcast. I would walk down the street, headphones in and I could feel the attitude and disdain coming from people around me. It’s the reason I started wearing my headphones outside in the first place. If I cannot hear the comments, then they were simply not being said.

My family knew how much I loved music. They used to encourage me to fulfil my dreams. I wanted to be a famous singer and piano player but I would never have the confidence to pursue such an outrageous path.

I was always the shy one in school. I did not acknowledge anyone in school and they did not acknowledge me for the most part unless they were in a bad mood and needed to take it out on someone. It got easier to ignore and it became easier to become invisible when I could sense people’s moods turning sour. That was a good thing about being the ‘loner’. I had time to be observant. I knew a lot of secrets about people and I knew who could tolerate me and who could not. I would sit at my desk while others were chatting and I would doodle. A voice would catch my attention and I would listen. Probably not the most polite of my qualities but it passed the time and made my school life slightly less boring.

Every day at lunch and at break I would go to the music practice rooms that people would very rarely occupy and I would simply sit there. Sometimes I would press a few keys but I was very aware of where I was. I did not want people to know that I liked music because that would be something to use against me later. However, being in amongst all of the instruments gave me a level of comfort. The idea that I could use these instruments to create something beautiful gave me the upmost amount of satisfaction and it is where my small amount of happiness came from.

My greatest supporter was my grandma, who I called ‘Nana’. She was amazing. She was the only friend I needed. To me, my Nana filled all roles that an individual needed in their lives. A best friend, a parent, a role model. My Nana was the only one I would play my music for and she would cry every time. I knew I had done a good job if she would cry. She was my safety net and she felt like home.

My Nana understood me in every possible way. I would get annoyed sometimes with family life and she would simply sit and listen even though I knew she did not have the best of upbringings herself. But she only brought that up once when she was not very well. She told me about how she had to steal from a neighbour’s yard because she was starving and was locked out of the house. My Nana made it her mission to ensure none of her grandchildren had to endure the upbringing she had. She in turn became the figure to feed, clothe and bathe us if we needed it.

I felt like I had quite a hectic family life style. I lived with my mum and my three siblings while my Nana lived just a few streets away. My mum would work hard to make ends meet while I would help take my little brother and sister to and from school all while going to school myself. Sometimes my aunty would help out. She was a shadow of my nana, in both looks and character. Unfortunately, I had not noticed the similarities until my nana had passed but it gave me some comfort to know there was a part of her still in the world.

It was a beautiful Saturday morning and I sat on my piano stool in our over crowded kitchen and played to my hearts content, occasionally singing and swaying as I felt the music engulf every fibre of my emotions. At this time I was fifteen. I was a bit on the chubby side but was in no means what someone could call ‘fat’. I was self-conscious of it none the less. On this particular Saturday I completed my musical session, popped my shoes on and made my way to my nana’s bungalow just a few minutes away, phone in hand and music playing. I was in my usual attire which was jeans and a dark long-sleeved shirt. I liked to be covered. Even my hair was long so I could hide more of myself.

I let myself into my nana’s house because she was out with a family member, presumably shopping and I completed her housework as I did every weekend. It became a way for me to earn pocket money and my nana enjoyed the company. Sometimes she would leave me a list of extra things to do. That day I noticed a note on the fridge followed by a list of extra things to complete. Simple things like putting fresh bedding on for her and watering the plants. I smiled at the note ‘Charlotte, would you mind doing a few extra things for me? There is money in the tin if you want to pop to the village to get us a treat, love you’.

I finished up within a few hours and walked down to the village. Today was one of the rare days I felt free. The sun was shining and there were very few people about. I walked into the village bakery and got a selection of our favourite goodies. I did not have to wait long for my nana to return home after that. She came through to the back garden where I was stood watering the plants and rearranging some of the bamboo sticks she used to keep her plants upright.

“Charlotte, my love, come and sit with me a while”.  I could tell something was not quite right but I tried to keep a positive mind for my nana. She was my rock and I would act as hers if she needed me to. My nana sat back on the sun lounger and sighed. I asked her if she wanted me to get her a drink and she asked for her favourite cloudy lemonade with ice.

We sat in silence a while. I knew she loved to listen to the world around her, just as I loved to listen to my music. She was enjoying the sun and seemed quite content.

“Nana, did you have a nice time out?” I asked, breaking the silence and secretly hoping everything was ok. I thought she had gone for her weekly shop but I noticed there was no evidence of shopping bags in the kitchen. My nana sighed and I turned to her.

‘My love, I had a check up at the hospital. The last few blood tests have shown evidence of my cancer possibly returning. They have booked me in for a scan to see how extensive the damage is this time”. My nana spoke softly. I could tell she was disappointed. She had worked so hard to keep her cancer at bay. She had only been in remission for a year and had changed her lifestyle around completely, hoping to see her family grow a bit more. I held her hand. There was nothing I could say to make this better. She always said if it came back, she would let herself die. She said she could not go through the treatment again and would not wish it upon her worst enemy.

Little did I know that was probably the last time I held her hand like that, in the sun, surrounded by each other’s company. She had a tumour growing in her neck this time. She could not even wear her false teeth at times because of the pain. She was admitted into a hospice and died just a few hours before I was due to get on a bus to see her. As she took her last breath, my life stopped and the dark figure made its appearance into my life again. at her funeral it stood behind her coffin and it followed me the whole way home before vanishing again.

It was almost as if he was mourning my nana with me. As if he could tell I needed someone to escort me home. His presence was definitely a distraction. But who/ what is he?