Stillness. Quiet. She is silent as tufts of white snow stick to her chestnut hair. Her breath is stifled as fragile hands tighten on the black strap of a violin case. Her heart beating slowly against her finger tips. Eyes as dark as an ocean's abyss are met with a numb grey. A cold stone with a name and dates. She feels it again, the dull pain of lost and guilt as she can't help but grit her teeth. Her breath comes out shaky before she speaks with a strung voice.

"I didn't mean to kill you, mom."

+

"Come hang with us!" He urges, wrapping his arm around my shoulders by surprised. Bringing me down to his height as the action almost made me drop my newly bought textbook. I narrowed my eyes at him causing him to give me an apologetic "whoops?", I relaxed.

"Sure, I don't see why not," I replied, readjusting my coat.

"Really??" His voice was filled with excitement.

I checked my watch, "I have nothing else to do so...lead the way?" Why did this feel so awkward?

"Woohoo! That's the spirit Mikey!" He shouted with a nudge to the shoulder before giving me a thumbs up paired with a wink. I eyed him questionably, is this what an extreme extrovert looks like?

"It's Michael," I corrected him, "just Michael."

            Today is the first day of my college life and I have already made friends with someone who is the complete opposite of me. How did we meet? Well he may say that I saved his life when in actuality I just answered a question that was posed to him by the professor. Truthfully the professor picked on him because he wasn't paying attention, disrupting the class with his social butterfly self. And truthfully I just answered the question out of a habit created by a long history of being a teacher's pet. I didn't even know what was going on as I was too busy taking notes and checking my watch for the time. "Jared" is what he told me as I awkwardly shook his hand before he praised in great detail of how I unknowingly "saved his life". To which he then decided to share his whole life story with me: Sophomore, Business Major, 5'3", extreme extrovert, party animal, two dogs and a cat, two loving parents, lives at home. Yeah...complete opposites.

"Guys, this is Michael. Michael this is..." There was four of them as he went around the table, introducing each one. They all reacted the same, looking up from their notes or computer to give me some sign of acknowledgment. They were all the same, except for the last one.

"And that is Angelica." She didn't even falter, not a peep as she kept writing along in her notebook. She was completely immersed and for some reason this intrigued me, quite peculiar. "She doesn't talk much," Jared added, covering up for her.

            We sat down as Jared and his friends broke off into a conversation that I could not follow due to the use of inner jokes and topics. My situation only got worse as I was sitting in front of the stoic Angelica who hadn't looked up once. I shrugged, I guess if no one is going to talk to me I'll just do some extra studying, I thought as I pulled out my notebook. Pressing my pen against my cheek as my eyes peered over my endless handwritten notes. Nearly getting to the end when I noticed Angelica's hand tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It was the first time I noticed how beautiful she was.

Her chestnut hair framed her face beautifully before fanning out along her shoulders. Her skin looked soft to the touch. A button nose and perfect cheekbones. Eyelashes that kissed the tops of her cheeks. Small, plump, rosy lips, and eyes that held the deepest shade of blue. I was stuck at her eyes as they raced across the page, they was something about them, something perplexed. As if they were hiding something. As if that shade of blue wasn't their true color.

"Can I help you?" Angelica asks in a harsh tone. Kicking me out of my thoughts as her eyes remained on the paper. Pen still moving.

I blushed, "N-no," I answered embarrassed.

"Then stop staring at me." Her voice was cold, removed from any emotion. I was stuck again in the silence, but for some reason I couldn't focus on my notes. My eyes kept traveling back to her.

She sighed, "I thought I told you to stop staring at me!"

Quick! Think of something! "What's your major?" I blurted out.

Her pen stopped. "What?"

"W-what's your major?" I sounded so nervous, clutching my pen tightly as her eyes scanned me questionably. Maybe I should have said nothing at all. It's too late now, I already dug the hold so might as well lie in it. Her lips pressed into a thin line as if she was deciding something. Contemplating if this is the right move?

Her pen begins again. "Music. Emphasis on the violin." She looks up, meeting my eyes with a blank stare. Disconnected from all interest. "And you?" Eyes back to the page.

"I-I haven't decided yet."

"Is there anything you've wanted to do so badly that it makes you beg for it?"

"No. Never."

"It must be sad then." She scratches out a word.

"What is?" I replied, raising my eyebrow in confusion. 

"To go your entire life without wanting anything."

+

Jared tells me that he doesn't know much about Angelica, just what he heard from here and there. "She's an orphan" he says, "Since the age of 12." It was her mother's sister, her aunt who took care of her after the death of her parents. He doesn't know what they died from, car crash he speculates. She has no siblings and has cut all ties with her loving aunt. Why? Nobody knows. For the longest time it was just her and her violin until one day last year Jared found her and made her an instant member of his friend group. "She says it was my constant annoyance and begging that made her finally said yes, but deep down I knew she was won over by my friendly charm!" He gloats while pounding proudly against his chest. I chuckled, going along with the moment.

She rarely spoke to them and never talked about herself. What they knew about her was what was rumored about her. "We thought she hated us," he sighed, "keeping herself closed off like that must be maddening." She never stroke a conversation with them and when they started a conversation with her it was short and shallow. They got use to her presence. "did you know that one time we made her laugh? The cutest littlest dimples I swear. And her laugh, oh her laugh! It was the first time we heard her make more than a peep!" But after every time they got close to some sort of light, some sort of opening of personality, she would recede and lock the door.  

+

Why was I taking this Music Appreciation class again? I contemplated as I walked down the hall to exit the music building. Passing one practice room after the next as I checked the time. 2:00. Oh yeah...it's because I suck at picking classes. I sighed as I could hear my advisor lecturing me once again, that poor woman."Mr. Jacobs! I told you to get your classes in early did I not. Pick the classes you wanted I said and did you listen? No! You were lucky that there were still a few decent classes open and since you haven't picked a major yet you will be doing nothing but gen eds!" She talked until she was blue in the face and after a quick apology I ran out of the room, messed up schedule in hand. Yeah...it sucks that the music building was the farthest building from my garage and my last class, but it wasn't her fault that I couldn't decide on anything. Nothing was speaking to me. Has anything ever spoken to me?

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck as I contemplated that question for quite a bit. Shoving my hands in my pockets as I was almost to the door when I was startled by a sound of a soft wail. I stopped, turning back to peer into the hallway I had just left, checking the practice rooms as each were desolate and silent. I was the only one here. I checked again, did I imagine it?

No, I was wrong. What I heard wasn't a wail, but a violin. The low, soft murmur of strings and bow floating through the air before capturing me in its voice. It pulled me to its origin, taking me two doors down to a practice room that branched from the main drag. A corner with no exit as a lonely light shined through the window implanted into the door. I peered through the glass and into the room, curiosity getting the better of me as I desperately wanted to know who it was. To my surprise I was met with a familiar face. Angelica.

I couldn't lurch away from the door any faster. Feeling the need to run as if I had just seen something obscene. But there was something within her playing that made me stay. It had stir something inside of me, something untouched. I peered in again, she looked different, her eyes closed shut which confirmed to me that she was oblivious to my presence. I looked at my feet and then back at her and then my hands. I slid down the wall, sitting on the floor before leaning my head against the plaster. I closed my eyes.

            It had taken everything. Each note drawn out like a cry as it pulled and pushed at the heartstrings. A soft moan and trembling notes produced by the occasional quivering bow. Shaky hands made sturdy again with every release of tension before falling back into the current. A relapse of anger and guilt like a sinking ship bobbing amongst the waves. Each change of note being met with conflict before carrying out its argument. The heaving of breath released into a collateral scream of beauty before stilling everything. The rapid strumming of escalating anger exploding to the plucking of strings, a forsaken rain. The slash of accepted shame. Something long forgotten. The whisper of a lost child.

What a sad song. I thought.

I had listened for another three hours before she came out. I don't know what look was on her face. I didn't even have the guts to show my own. Was she crying? Angry? How could she play something like that and not break so easily?

"What are you doing here?!" The question sounded different. It didn't have her usual coldness. I see you remember me, I thought. Keeping my eyes hidden in my sleeve as I leaned my head upon it. What face am I making?

"I said what are you doing here?" Her voice softened.

How do you do it?

"Hey! Hello!"

How do you just stand there and not tell anyone anything? How can you play something with that much pain and just swallow it whole? Don't you want to escape?

"Hey! Dude!!"  

And then you just had to go and pull my memories right out of me, huh? Make me question the very fabric of myself as that song brought back everything.

"Michael!"    

She's an orphan, since the age of 12. How do you do it?

"Tch! Whatever!" She huffed, running her fingers through her hair before turning around. About to slip through the door when I caught her hand in mine.

"Please," I said expressionless. Feeling her eyes on me as I tried to hide everything. "Let me listen."

She was silent for a moment. Still. She sighed, feeling her body relax next to me before she let go of my hand. Leaving the door open as she walked back into the room. I don't know if it was my desperation or the fact that she was having a vulnerable moment, but when she came back out with her stuff in her hand, she... 

"Every Tuesday and Thursday at 2. Monday and Wednesday at 1." She said and our eyes finally met. Something danced in the air between us. "And you will sit outside, I don't practice well with an audience. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded. Unable to speak as I was taken aback that she would even consider. ...Was this the first time I ever asked for anything?

"Now come on, I can't have your corpse on my guilty conscious too." She added, making the question leave my mind before I noticed her walking away. I quickly got to my feet, dusting myself off before I ran to catch up with her.

"W-where are we going?"

"To my garage so I could drive you to your car. Oh and by the way..." She stopped, staring at the door as I stood beside her. I saw her hand tightened into a fist. "This does not make us friends. Do you understand?"

"I-"

"Do you understand?" She pressed gently. Desperately.

My brows furrowed. "I understand."

Little did we know how meaningless those words would mean to us. 

+

It was slow at first. A simple bargain of her playing the violin while I listened through the door. The occasional greeting with the group and the silent car rides with the setting sun. I hated the silence so I would endlessly fill the car with any sort of nonsense rambling, hoping that she may interject or intervene. I didn't know what I was expecting from her. I knew she was a closed door. A women who always kept her cards close to her chest. It wasn't until the day that I told her how my dad left me and my mom when I was ten, leaving us to struggle as we almost ended up on the streets, that she allowed a little crack. 

"I'm sorry, too much info?" I apologized after I saw the way her hands squeezed the steering wheel. The clenching of her jaw and shoulders giving me the impression that she was uncomfortable.

"No, it's fine," she said as I watched her jaw and shoulders relax. "R-remind me of what having a mother is like." Her hands never loosened.

            Months have passed and with each day we had walked from the boundary titled stranger to acquaintance to now here. To the place where I call her friend, but what does she think of me? I'm too afraid to ask. Questions of the past were always given to me, but every one I gave in return she would dodge or pretend it was never there. Letting the question die where it stood. When we weren't talking about me we talked about what happened in the week, classes, and sometimes even Jared. He's a good guy, not gonna lie but us being both introverts we think that he might need to cut down on his "social charm" is what he deemed it as. She would smile every now and then, but it would never reach her eyes, her courtesy smile is how I would call it. The more we talked the more open we became and the more things I began to notice about her.

            Angelica was a person who had no time for nonsense. She would kick the lie out of you faster than you can think of it, so you better start with the truth. She always admired people who told the truth but would allow their silence for she knew that it held secrets. It held her own. She thought gossip and rumors were created by people who had too much time on their hands, thinking "don't you have anything better to do than preach some nonsense based on jealousy?". Angelica always had something to do. She hated being still for when she was still she thought she was losing time. That she was wasting an opportunity that was given to her. She always moved as if she was living on borrowed time.

              There were smaller things I noticed about Angelica as well, little quirks that needed a careful eye for them to be seen. Like the way her eyes always lit up when music was being spoken about or how she would grab her ear when she was in deep thought. How her pinky lifted off the bow before falling back onto the wood when it touched the strings. How she clutched the ends of her shirt when she was nervous. How peaceful she looked sitting under a tree while the sun made her hair look like starlight. I had experienced many things about her, but her laugh was not one of them.    

Until today. I only wish I had been the one to cause it.

            They all burst into laughter, holding their stomachs and hitting the table after hearing Jared's joke about monks and doors. They couldn't contain themselves and I would have been the same if I wasn't occupied with the stunning image before me. Angelica was laughing the most beautiful angelical laugh. It was like sunlight, bright and refreshing. The cutest dimples. A breathtaking sound. I felt my chest tighten as it was bursting with a feeling I never felt before.

"That funny huh?" Jared laughed, nudging her arm with his elbow. She nodded while I noticed how close they were. He couldn't help but laugh along with her and for some reason this made me uneasy. My hand clenched into a fist and another feeling had mixed with the one before, something rotten.

            I lurched from the table, muttering an "excuse me" as I ran to the bathroom. My heart felt like it was about to explode. I kicked open the bathroom door before ducking into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut before I leaned my back against it. I clutched at my chest, my heart pounding against my ribcage as my whole body pulsated. I fell to the floor, feeling the strangulation of a vine wrapping around a blooming flower. What is happening to me? Why do I feel all warm and anxious? Am I getting sick? Maybe a panic attack, yeah it's gotta be...The vine loosened, letting the flower bloom for the first time.

Is there anything you wanted so badly that it makes you beg for it?     

Her voice made me ears tinge. Is this what it's like to want something?

To want her.

+

            I never wanted anything in my life. My mom would always ask me "Ice cream or cake sweetie?", "Whatever makes you the happiest mom!". I never wanted anything because when my dad left all my options went with him. My mom had no job when she was with my dad for he promised that he would take care of everything so she could take care of me. So when he decided to run away with some hooker to Pasadena you could only imagine the pickle we were in. Mom couldn't get a job after my dad left either, no one wanted a mom who had to bring their kid to work because she couldn't afford a sitter. And mom couldn't even call home for help due to a family rift that was created long before I was born. We were alone and when the money began to run out the desire of want no longer existed. I was lucky to just have something.

            We had lost the house and we wandered the streets for three days. Until the neighborhood preacher took pity on us by taking us into his home. He was a young honorable man, Father Henry is what his disciples called him but he let me call him H. It was his nickname back in high school. H helped me get into a good school and secured my mom with a well-paying job by sharing a few praises to the CEOs who confessed at his church. He was a good man and he was even a better Stepfather. I called him "Dad" soon after their wedding and took his last name along with my mom. Trading the last name "Phillip" for "Jacobs". I saw him as my true father, but the damage had already been done.

            I was already so used to having nothing, that when we finally had something I couldn't bring myself to choose. Always picking the option that made everyone else happy even if it made me suffered. I didn't want anything, I didn't have the desire to...until now. After I met her. But do I have the stomach to tell her how I feel?

Maybe.

+

"Angelica!" called an unfamiliar voice making the two of us stop. We were heading to the group for our lunch break, walking in the commons when this woman called out to her. I peered over my shoulder being met with fierce evergreen eyes filled with worry. She looked older than the two of us, maybe in her late 30s or 40s. Her hair was tied into a bun, makeup pristine, business attire and a trench coat that looked like it was more than either of us could afford. But what threw me off was the face, features so familiar and yet different, she was almost a distorted version of Angelica.

"I thought I told you not to look for me." Angelica's voice was distant. Removed from all emotion as the women, to my surprised, smiled with relief.

"Is that anyway to greet your favorite aunt?" She asked gently.

Angelica didn't respond. She turned to me instead. "Michael can you give us a minute?"

Why did I feel apprehensive? "Are you sure?"

She hesitated, "Yes."

"Alright," I went to a nearby tree. Leaning against it as I put my headphones in to give the impression that I wasn't listening. I could hear every word clearly.

"What are you doing here Auntie Isabel?" Angelica began.

"I was worried about you," Isabel took a step forward, her hands in her pockets.

"I wrote to you last week. You're here for something else aren't you?"   

Isabel sighed, "I see that you are sharper than ever my little Angel."

Angelica said nothing. A gust of wind blowing between them.

"It's your father," Angelica flinched. "...He wants to apologize," Isabel finished.

"He has nothing to apologize for," Angelica's voice was sincere.

"What do you mean he has 'nothing to apologize for'? Angelica he kicked you out of your home! He disowned you for heaven's sakes!" Isabel was flabbergasted.      

Angelica was silent for a long time. Contemplating before she asked, "and my sister?"

Isabel sighed, rubbing her temples. "Still hates your guts I'm afraid."

There was her courtesy smile, "good, that's how it should be. Tell my father I'm doing just fine without him and tell him...that I deserved everything he did to me."

Isabel's face contorted into pain. "Angelica-"

"Are we done here?"

A tension grew between them and the momentary silenced was broken for one last time.

"Why did you run away from me?" Isabel struggled with the words. As if she didn't want to know the answer.

"Because...I couldn't take anymore kindness from a woman who looked so much like my mother." Angelica looked down before turning away, walking slowly. I could never tell what she was thinking.

"Angelica," she kept walking, leaving Isabel to shout after her, "I'm glad you finally allowed yourself to have friends!"

For some reason, those words made Angelica flinch and her hands became fists.

            She walked passed me and when she had walked passed the group I ran after her. But no matter how many times I called her she didn't stop until I grabbed her hand.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

She swatted her hand from my grasp. "Leave me alone Michael."

"Leave- what do you mean leave you alone? Why are you acting like this?"

"I should have never gotten close to you! I should have never been in that group! I was fine on my own!" Her voice was desperate. "I had allow myself to forget."

"Forget? Forget what?"

"That is none of your concern!" She looked like she was about to cry.

"Angelica..." I began to reach for her and she recoiled from me as if I was something vile.

"Get away from me! I don't want you here!"

"Why are you acting like this? I thought we were friends."

"We were never friends!" She screamed as she held herself. "You...meant nothing to me."

I could hear my heart break. "You...you don't mean that."

"I do."

"You don't."

"I do...now please...leave."   

            I couldn't bring myself to move. So she left first and I stood there frozen for a good five minutes. When I returned back to the group I told them everything Angelica said. Jared had asked me if he should go after her, thinking that he convinced her once to join the group that maybe he can do it again. I told him that if she really cared about us she will be back...if not then we know what we truly meant to her. Everyone got quiet but it didn't take them long to get back to normal. Me? I stayed silent. I was never the same.

            A week had gone by and it seemed like the woman named "Angelica" never existed. As if she was a mirage or a dream that you forget the moment you wake up. She had just vanished, left without a trace, and then she came back...

"Can we talk?" She asked. Standing there in all her glory as I took one long look at her. Her hands were clutching the ends of her shirt.

She was lucky that I loved her.

+

"She died August 3rd, 2013," She said as we stood in the grass. A green canopy of leaves looming over our faces as it blessed us with its shade. Standing side by side as we stared at a grave stone with the words inscribed: "Elizabeth Angelica Bisset: Loving mother and wife". I took in the grey of those words before looking back upon Angelica, her eyes a solemn blue, lost in the stone. 

            She bit her bottom lip, holding back a sniffle. "My mother...is beyond words. I couldn't even sum her up into one word even if I wanted to. She um..." She clutched at the ends of her shirt. She told me that when her mother walked into a room it was like the air was taken out of it and replaced with honey and sugar. That she smelled like peppermint. That laughter would instantly fill the room after a kiss and a hug was given. Her friends adored her, relied on her, while her peers envied her. "She never hesitated to give a helping hand, willing to give the clothes off her back if one were to ask for them. She wasn't a saint, but she was the farthest away from a sinner." Angelica remembered that her mother's eyes were a sapphire blue and her chestnut hair would always be in the wildest ringlets. She would always be humming and after every hum she picked up her violin and played the tune just to get it out of her ear. "She was the reason I picked up the violin," she paused. "She was the staple of our family, she just knew what you needed. So when the doctors say, "there's nothing we can do" and that I was the root of her death, I can't blame them for disowning me."

"When you say them..." I swallowed hard. "Do you mean your dad and sister?"

She looked at me, but I knew that she was somewhere else. "I see you were listening to my conversation with my aunt."

I bit the inside of my lip. "I'm sorry, I-"

"It's alright," she sighed heavily. "I guess you had a right to know." Her eyes went back to her mother's grave. A moment of silence hung between us before I dared to ask the question that was crawling its way to the surface.

"How did she die?" It was like a chord had just been misplayed. She looked at me.

"You mean, how did I kill her?"   

My face fell. "Angelica..."

She turned away from me, eyes back to the stone. "It was only the two of us...we were out shopping for clothes for my next concert recital. I was going to be first chair. I was only 12 so finding formal dresses that fit me was a challenge. Causing us to walk store to store after parking the car in a parking garage downtown. The day was hot and the sun was high in the sky, almost blinding. We were about to cross the street and instead of waiting a few minutes after the walking sign had turned green I had ran out into the street. Someone had decided to run the red light. The car was heading right for me, I froze, and she..." She squeezed her eyes shut. Biting her bottom lip hard as tears stained her cheeks. "She-" She choked, holding back a sob as she held her face in her hands.

She had crumbled in a cataclysmic ballad of broken notes and slammed keys. She shook violently, clawing at herself before holding herself tightly as if she was a broken vase frantically trying to glue the pieces back together. The wild face of fear haunting her façade.

"I killed my mother Michael. I killed her and all I could do was scream about it!" She lashed out, feeling my hands ball into a fist. "It was all my fault! It should have been me! It should have-"

"Angelica!" I grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. They felt so dainty beneath my palms. Being met with a sniffling woman with bloodshot eyes and soaked cheeks.

I didn't know how vulnerable you could be.

"Angelica, listen to me," She shook violently in my grasp. Trying to get away from me so I couldn't look directly into her shame. She wanted to hide. "Look at me!" She shook her head. I grabbed her face. "Look. At. Me." I said forcefully. She froze. Our eyes finally met.

"I love you."

"What?" She was taken aback.

"I love you and I know that your mother loved you, that she will always love you."

"W-what are you trying to say?" Her tears began to spill again. My thumbs catching the fallen angels.    

"What I'm saying is...if I had the chance I would have done the same thing."

Her face was blank. Her hands holding my wrists.

"I would have done the same thing. There is no need to blame yourself Angelica. It wasn't your fault."

"Then who's fault is it?"

"No one's." She couldn't meet my eyes anymore. Staring down at my chest. "People make mistakes. She took her destiny into her own hands."

"What do you mean?" She sniffled.

"Angelica, your mother died saving you. She chose to save you. And I know that if she could go back in time, she would do it over and over and over again." 

"Why?" Her hands tightened.

"Because she was a mother. She would rather give up her life than watch her child's being taken away from her. She would rather die than live in a world without you in it. Don't you understand? She chose to die. She chose it because it meant saving you. It meant giving you a chance at life. Do you think that if she were here right now that she would be happy about the way you've been living your life?"

She shook her head.

"Do you think that she would want you to feel guilty? Or to blame yourself for what happened?"

She hesitated. No. She shook.

"Then don't. Don't waste the one life you have, don't diminish what she gave up by not living. You at least owe her that much."

She was silent for a long time. Soaking in the words as I could see the color of her eyes lightened. A greyish blue replaced by the blue of Robin's egg. She kept opening and closing her mouth, meaning to start a sentence but the words never seemed to reach. She balled the front of my shirt. She was lost, blank, as all she could do was sit in my words. Taking them in their luxury in hopes for their permission. She closed her eyes, took a breath, opened her eyes, exhaled.

"Michael I..." The tears began to brim again. "I..."

"I know," I pulled her into my chest. "I know."

            I held her tightly, stroking the back of her head as she soaked my shoulder. Sniffling into my shirt as she wailed with the small balling of hands around cloth. She clung to me as if I was her last dying breath, desperate, needing. I held her beneath that tree, in front of her mother's grave, through the chord shattering cry, I held her. And through the soft murmuring of her cries I could have sworn I heard a woman's hum followed by a violin that played the same tune.