Behind the Last Window

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room.

Occasionally, she’d wonder what was out there but mostly she was content. Her name was Emma. She isn’t really sure how she knows her own name. The room was full of books which she occasionally read. But music was how she felt most alive. It gave her solace, joy and a companion throughout her life. Since she was a child, she has had a natural affinity to music. To compose, to play, to harmonize, to turn emotions into sound. This was how she processed her very small world and all the accompanying emotions in her every day. If she was sad, she played songs of melancholy and longings of the heart. If she was happy, she’d play songs of rapture and enthusiasm. She could play every instrument but piano was her favourite. Getting lost playing the piano was home to her.

She has distant memories of other people. She had something that resembled a family. A faded and vague recollection of a mother and a father and some other children around her. She was born in a small town in England in the late 1920’s. She couldn’t remember anything about her family, except that it felt warm in her heart. When those feelings of melancholy came over her, she’d get lost in playing.

While she’d never describe the man that watched over her with love, she was grateful for his care. His name was Earnest but she’s not quite sure how she knows this - perhaps he introduced himself once upon a time. She could hear him shuffling around in the rooms of the old house above her. Every day he would come into the room to leave her breakfast, lunch and dinner - 7AM, noon, 5PM. The times never wavered. There was no clock in the room but she had made friends with the sun and the seasons. She could feel time and her body came to know what to expect. She got clean clothes once/week and access to the shower in her room on what we would call Sunday. She had never seen a calendar and didn’t know the days of the week but she counted 7 sleeps until the next arrival. She wondered how many laundry arrivals she’d lived through in this room. Earnest never made eye contact. He was always well-dressed in grey dress pants and a neutral polo shirt. He smelled of musky cologne. She used to stare at him and try to make conversation when he’d come in the room. She’d given up on that long ago. Occasionally, he’d bring her new music books.

The only time he spoke was when offering her a new music book: “a gift for you,” he’d say with a hint of enthusiasm in his voice. She would always say thank you but nothing more. Excitedly, she’d start playing and learning the new music. After fumbling through the first few bars, she’d inevitably start to sink into the music. She had no recollection of hearing music besides her own, but the sounds that came from the piano were the most beautiful sounds she could ever imagine existing. She didn’t know this but her playing was some of the most exquisite skills of a pianist on the planet. Oh the irony, of the piano being her solace and also her captor.

Distant memories of her family would surface occasionally - sometimes in a daydream or a book she was reading. Being tucked in by her mother or her father throwing her up in the air, a giggle erupting from deep within. She doesn’t know where they went or how she got here. She wondered if she should be more sad. She is 9 years old now.

Earnest was a friend of her father. They knew each other through Earnest’s music shop where Robert would shop frequently. Earnest as in his mid 60’s - a tall, slender man with grey hair and an oval face. Her father, Robert, was a good man. Robert started a music school in Lyndhurst, England for young musicians and had perfected a new theory and technique to teach people to read music and play instruments within months - sometimes weeks if the student was keen and motivated. It was a combination of hypnosis, teaching via the subconscious during sleep and visualization. He practiced his techniques on himself and his family. Emma was the youngest person that ever tried these techniques; she was playing Mozart, Rubinstein and Beethoven by memory before the age of 4. It happened so easily and so naturally, she doesn’t remember actively learning. Playing the piano has felt like walking to her, she can’t remember a time without it.

Emma’s parents had lived in poverty their whole life. Her father’s new school was about to lift her and her siblings from the weight and stress of poverty. Robert was so proud of his discovery. He was going to bring the gift of music to so many people while also giving his family a chance at a better life. He spent every night with Emma, introducing new songs and new meditations. She would light up their home every evening with her playing. In a moment of inspiration her father decided to plan a talent show at the opening of the new school. He invited everyone he knew; Emma was to play the opening and closing songs. Robert’s heart swelled with pride at the thought of his daughter serenading the town.

Her father called upon his friends in the community to help him put on the opening. One of whom was his acquaintance Earnest, always a calm and patient man. Robert asked Earnest to direct each musician on and off the stage - offering each musician a calm hand and presence before and after their performances. Earnest hesitantly agreed but didn’t particularly like to socialize or be in large groups, he felt uncomfortable and unsure. He did, however, love the piano.

After Robert’s introduction to the music school, the townspeople roared with excitement. For a small town, they were all looking forward to having a dynamic new addition to their community. It was time to begin. Earnest nodded at Emma on cue, a young girl with short, dark hair walking towards the grand piano on stage with the confidence of a professional pianist. She sat at the piano with her feet dangling, no music book in front of her. Earnest felt an excitement in his bones that he hadn’t felt in years. As Emma started to play, the initial gasp of the audience was followed by a silence of deep awe and amazement listening to her play. The sounds of love and beauty echoing magnificently through the hall. A young child far beyond her years, capturing the entire town. Earnest’s heart both erupted and shattered all at once. He knew he needed to hear that music every day for the rest of his life.

As she climbed clumsily off the piano bench, the people in the room applauded and soared in delight. From that day on, she was known as “Angel of the Keys” in the town. Earnest helped each musician on and off the stage, knowing inside that nothing would compare to the music that came from the Angel of the Keys. Emma’s closing piece was so moving, the audience nearly in a collective weep at her stunning performance. Her playing was the proof that her father hoped for in recognition of his new school and new learning techniques. Earnest knew this was his only chance at living the rest of his life hearing her play. He took her hand and offered her some snacks and offered to take her to his place where she could play more piano. Excitedly, while Emma ate the rest of her shortbread cookie, she said yes. Her childhood innocence and enthusiasm for piano, a life altering combination in this moment. Earnest walked her out the back of the theatre, buckled her into the passenger seat and drove her to his home. Emma was not seen by her family again until her 14th birthday. Emma doesn’t remember any of this - a young four and a half year old. It wasn’t the dramatic kidnapping that anyone would imagine or even consider.

Many years passed in that room. As she reached her 12th birthday, she felt a restlessness in her bones. While she felt restless, she never considered trying to escape. The window in the room, slowly becoming more and more of an interest to her. The rolling green hills beyond the window were beautiful. The morning dew on the grass was particularly magical. She became acquainted with the seasons and spoke softly to the birds outside her window. She made friends with the spider that nested in the window sill. Sometimes she’d play directly for the birds and she swore they’d sing along. Days, months and years passed but the piano never went a day without being played.

One cold winter night she came down with a chest infection and after hearing Emma cough all night in her sleep, Earnest brought in a bottle of cough syrup with her breakfast. It smelled pungent of herbs and medicine. “One spoon at night before bed, one spoon upon waking until the bottle is empty,” he said confidently. Emma trusted Earnest and within a few days, her cough was gone. Her life continued on.

As the days started to get close to her 14th birthday, she noticed Earnest moving more slowly. He fumbled while putting down her dinner tray and spilled apple juice on the floor. She looked away feeling shy for him. While he wiped it up, she took this moment to sneak a glance at him. Earnest was now an old man and she wondered for the first time what his life was like. She knew he left during the day but aside from that, she knew little of him. He always returned mid day to bring her lunch. He was kind but she also knew he was strange.

As the days went on, her meals became very erratic and were sometimes missed entirely. His shuffling upstairs much less vigorous and enthusiastic. Earnest’s hands would shake with alot of intensity as he would pass her a new music book or meal tray. It started to dawn on her that perhaps he was going to die soon. She felt a sadness at the thought of that; he didn’t resemble that of a father but he had taken good care of her. She played the piano to express this sadness although every piece ended with a sense of peace. After playing that evening, Earnest came down to bring her a late dinner. He lingered at the door after passing her the tray. For the first time, they made eye contact. Emma felt uncomfortable but couldn’t look away. Their eyes locked together for a brief moment in time. “Thank you,” Earnest said softly and sincerely. Emma gave a small nod in confusion and he turned around to leave, closing the door quietly.

The following morning was chilly, Emma wrapped herself in a blanket and sat staring out the window at the morning dew, patiently waiting for her breakfast. She watched a little slug crawl across the window sill and along the side of the house - she wondered where it was off to and if it had a family or somewhere in particular to go. Moving at a slow and determined pace. A bird chirped loudly, snapping her out of her day dream. She looked towards the sun and realized it was past noon. She hadn’t heard any shuffling that morning. She was feeling hungry from having missed breakfast so to distract herself she started to play. A feeling of completion and grief floating over her. She played intensely for hours, just allowing the emotions to come out. She felt it was one of her best performances - when she looked out the window she wished there were some birds to have witnessed it but nobody was listening. She had no idea that every day for the last 10 years, Earnest was listening to her play. That day, she played for him the song that would transition him out of the physical world.

After playing, she was ravaged with hunger. She stared at the door to the room with great curiosity. She had never considered trying to open it. Her hunger instincts were nudging her towards the door. She walked towards it, staring at it for a long while. Finally, with one quick motion she turned the door handle and it opened. She wondered if it had always been unlocked. She walked through the door and found herself in a grand hallway with velvet carpets and grandiose paintings hung on the walls. A giant chandelier glittered above her. As she turned towards the giant door, she could see the sun peaking through a sliver of space from beneath the door. As she moved towards it, she noticed a staircase to the right and at the top of the staircase displayed a giant painting of a young girl playing the piano. She stared at it for a few moments, taking in the young girl’s short dark hair and the giant hall filled with people watching intensely beyond her. It seemed familiar. Her stomach growled suddenly and she remembered the door to the outside world was in front of her.

Her heart was racing. She grabbed the giant handle, pressed down with both hands managed to pull the door open. Light poured down on her, so bright she had to squint and instinctively covered her eyes with her hand while her eyes slowly adjusted. She breathed in fresh air and finally had a proper view of those rolling hills. They were stunning. With some hesitation, she started walking towards the hills. A sense of freedom coming over her. She nearly walked back so she could play the sounds of freedom on her piano but she continued on. The Angel of the Keys was free.

She was eventually reunited with her family; a happy, confusing and disturbing reintegration into the world. Sometimes when life felt like too much for Emma, she’d imagine herself in the room just playing for hours. While she didn’t miss Earnest, she often missed her life in that room. Nearly a decade later, she became the most famous pianist in the world at that time which was in many ways thanks to her father and to Earnest. Her story eventually exploded in the press. “ANGEL OF THE KEYS FREE FROM CAPTIVITY!” plastered all over the newspaper headlines. If Earnest was alive, he would have been punished severely for kidnapping and keeping her captive her whole childhood.

As Emma’s life continued to unfold, she’d find herself in deep contemplation about her life in that room and how disturbingly content she felt there. Does it count as captivity if the doors were unlocked the whole time?