The Assistant (Matt Sturniolo)

32

Within seconds, the elevator opened on to the lobby.

"Hey, do you know where there's a toilet?" Matt asked, looking down the hallways and either side.

"Yeah, follow me" turning a corner, I pass the visitors desk and soon see the tiled hallway. "Down the hall to your left"

"Thanks, honey. I'll be a minute" he mumbled. I nodded, keeping an eye on him until he was out of view.

People walked around the lobby, going into the gift shop, coming and going. There was chairs in the corners, pictures on the walls and a piano in the corner.

"Excuse me, would it be alright if I-" I asked the lady sitting at the visitors desk, nodding at the empty piano.

"If you know how to, please do. We've been without a regular player for too long. A song would be nice" she said, smiling.

I was relieved to be left alone to my own devices. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and let my fingers remember. I feel the music pour out of me and into my fingers, then on to the keys.

I was snapped from my thoughts when I heard clapping. I turned quickly and found him standing there. Matt, smiling. He licked his bottom lip and leaned against the wall.

"Holy fuck" he muttered, throwing up his hands. "When were you going to tell me you play?"

"I don't. What are you saying?" The words stumble from my mouth. I closed the cover on the keys, avoiding his eyes that burned into the back of my head.

"You're great" He exclaimed. I gulped, not sure when to face him, or when to admit it. "I mean, who knew you wrote songs?"

"I didn't write it" I argued, messing with my hands on my lap. They ached to touch the keys again. It's hard to stop once I started.

"Then who did, huh?"

"Someone else in the world named Y/N Y/L/N" I confessed, dropping my head.

"Y/N!" He laughed, and I felt goosebumps on the back of my neck as he sat down on the bench beside me. "I can't believe you wrote that"

I shrugged, lost for words. I didn't feel so bad when he lifted the cover of the piano and poked a key. "It was a long time ago" I told him, inching my fingers on to it again.

"You never told me you played, how come?" He asked and I can see his smile for the corner of my eye. My silence grew awkward and he looked away. "I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to"

My right hand settled on the keys. I saw his head turn to watch, but then I stopped.

"My grandpa taught me when I was six, the one who passed. He was a musician and he had a piano at his house" I started, pressing some of they keys.

"I've always wanted to learn. I picked up stuff from lessons, but not a lot" he said softly, notes following his words. I loosened up and swayed with the piece I play.

"It's hard, the lessons. I had them twice a week, and then practice at home. It was 'forget your maths homework, you need to practice piano. You're not sitting straight enough, you're playing the keys too hard, you can't play sports because you'll hurt your hands.." the words open a door I thought I closed a long time ago.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. That's no life for a kid. You were just little and wanted to play outside- not stuck behind a piano" Matt mumbled and I nodded.

"Doesn't seem like it was your Dad because of how well you get on. Was it your Mom?"

I hummed, playing one last key.

"I'm sorry. I remember when she called that day when you started working for me and she upset you" he mumbled. "Figured maybe it had something to do with her not being here with your Dad. Are they divorced?"