THE PERFORMANCE

THE PERFORMANCE

Morgan took another deep breath in an effort for calm. The stage wing was dark, full of onlookers and smelled of dust and linseed oil. Through the dark curtain could be seen the oasis of light that was centre stage and the mirror sheen of the black grand piano being played by Oliver. The top of his bald head could just be seen, reflected in the piano top, making it appear like a pale moon was jerking left and right as he played. Morgan looked down at her feet and the reflections in her patent leather shoes. The wood floor reminded her of the past. A dark knot of wood seemed to draw her in as she stared and pulled her into it and a distant memory.

She was cowering behind the sofa, cheek against the dull, musty smelling, floorboards. Her father's scuffed grey boots moved angrily back and forth as her mother's black slip-ons faced his, perfectly still.
"I've told you before she has to learn."
His voice was slurred.
"You mollycoddle her. You let her have her way. I will not have it, you hear?"
"Yes Joseph", was her mother's mumble. "But it's been three days since she last wet her bed."
The boots turned abruptly and stopped inches from the black slip-ons.
"You think that’s good? You think I can be woken even once by such a dirty act? Make her sleep in it. Give her the strap before I have to give it her myself."
Morgan flinched at the mention of the strap. She tried to make herself into a smaller ball, to hide, to completely disappear. She tried to prevent the tears.
"Yes Joseph."
“Now get me something to eat. Now that I'm awake, I'm hungry. And it had better not be any of that slop you served up to me yesterday."
"Well? What are you waiting for? Get out."
The black slip-ons disappeared from view.
Trembling hard and afraid that her beating heart would find her out, Morgan waited. The grey boots vanished and then reappeared with two thumps as they fell to the floor. It was a long time before she heard the snores and she could sneak back upstairs to her bedroom.

Oliver had finished playing. The stagehands were clapping. Morgan’s heart pounded. She was next. Oliver was coming off. He was beaming. He was pushing harder on his wheelchair than she had ever seen him. He gave her a thumbs-up with a grin and she tried to smile back. With a start she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was time to go. She looked back at her teacher who beckoned her on with a wave. She started walking toward the light. Her legs were shaking. She was being drawn toward the stage, through the curtains. Hesitantly she walked through the opening and suddenly she was twelve years old.

She faced the door to her bedroom. She could hear her mother quietly sobbing from inside. Her legs felt heavy. She was afraid.
"Get in hear now!”
He was drunk again.
Morgan hardly whispered the words "Yes Daddy", and shuffled head down through the door. Through eyelashes she glimpsed her mother slumped on the end of the bed amid a carpet of music sheets. Her sheets! The ones she had tried hard to keep hidden in her underwear drawer. Morgan gasped instinctively and belatedly realised it was not the right thing to do. Quickly she looked back down at the bare floorboards.
"You might well gasp - GIRL."
"I've found out you and your mother's little secret. It's not going to happen you hear? This family does not have talent. You’ll both not amount to anything. Your mother can't even breed properly."
Morgan heard the slither and snap of his belt as he slid it through the loops of his trousers. She tensed, tried not to whimper.
The crack was sudden but it was her mother who cried out.
"Pick them up."
Morgan chanced to raise her eyes as her mother picked up the precious music sheets. There was fresh bruising on her mother's face.
"They'll make good fire starters."
Morgan heard the swish of the belt a split second before the pain hit her. She could not help but cry out.
"Get on your knees - girl."
It was her mother who shouted "No Joseph" before she was knocked to the floor, scattering the papers once more.
Through watering eyes, Morgan saw the floorboards, and her father's boots, come closer as she felt herself sink to the floor.
"You" - the belt cut into her back through her thin top.
"Will" - the buckle bit into her shoulder and she screamed.
Never" - pain was a red flash as it hit her in the side of the head.
"Ever" – there was a great crash in her ears and the taste of blood in her mouth.
"Amount" - the pain and noise in her head was intense.
"To" - she could only grunt as she felt herself slipping.
"Anything" - mercifully she fell in to silence and darkness.

The lights on stage meant that Morgan could hardly see the expectant faces in the audience. She focused on the piano. She adjusted the stool, settled down on it. She took one more deep breath and placed her fingers at the ready position for G-Major. Morgan glimpsed up to the wings. Raelene was madly waving good luck with one of her crutches. Eyes down, Morgan began her performance. The black and white keys blurred.

She was sixteen years old. The school bus had just dropped her off at the black and white painted front door. Mother was not there to greet her as she usually did.
The door was not locked. Morgan walked in to the hallway. The new paint smell greeted her but nothing else. She called out and waited. Nothing happened. The rooms were empty. Something felt very wrong.
The backdoor to the kitchen was wide open.
Morgan saw the red stain on the newly laid decking before she saw her mother. With hand held to mouth in fear, she glanced frantically around before rushing forward and kneeling down. Blood was everywhere. Morgan's body shook with sobs as she clutched her mother's hand but there was no sign of life.
Morgan could not hear the door behind her close but she felt the vibration. Before she could turn around a pair of scuffed grey boots stepped into view and an all too familiar flash of pain sent her into unconsciousness.

The performance was over. Her fingers were still but hands trembled from the exertion. With one palm on the piano she felt the dying vibration of the last note. Morgan felt the scrape of the stool across the boards as she moved to stand up. The auditorium lights came up. She could see the audience clapping. The faces of friends and college students started to stand as they applauded. Morgan's eyes brimmed with tears as she felt the rumble through the soles of her feet. She had accomplished her dream.
"Thank you", she signed.
Finger to forehead; palm to chest; thumb finger wiggle to chin – “For my mother.”