Good Enough (Ivory Keys)
A side-story to my main story, Good Enough.
Good Enough--Side Story--Ivory Keys
Eight years ago
Ten-year-old Damien couldn't help but feel jealous as he watched his brother on the basketball court, weaving expertly between his opponents, taking the shot...
"Another perfect shot from Nathan Blackwell," the game's announcer, a twelve-year-old otter named Kale, called. "Hard to believe he's only thirteen, right?" The crowd, however, had not heard. They had begun cheering raucously and Damien winced as his father and sister joined the cacophony. And, as always, Nate was reveling in the attention, basking in his glory.
Damien, however, had looked away, unsure of how to react. He was proud of his brother, he truly was, but this feeling of resentment... He simply couldn't shake it, no matter how hard he tried. There was his handsome, talented, athletic brother and, seated beside him, his genius sister, Amy.
"I'll be right back," Damien said to his mother after a few more moments. His mother, Selene, nodded. But her attention was focused solely on the basketball game.
In the hallway outside of the school's gymnasium, Damien had started to wander, somehow finding himself in front of the school's trophy case. His eyes skimmed over a few of the awards and he let out a sigh. He continued to wander once more. By habit, he had started to sing to himself, a familiar tune by one of his favorite bands. It was a habit he had developed a while ago, drowning out his world.
He wasn't sure how long he had been wandering around before he had come across an almost empty, large room, filled with chairs on elevated platforms. He was no longer singing, but humming with intrigue as he entered... The room wasn't vacant. Somebody else was in here, playing on a black, baby-grand piano. She was a rather old, wizened female jackal, her bespectacled face tilted down towards the piano as she played that beautiful tune...
Damien inched closer and before he knew it, was looking over onto the keys, watching in amazement as her paws flew across the keyboard, playing a melody that he couldn't place, yet he knew from where... Where could he--?
"Do you like the piano, little one?" she asked suddenly.
Damien jumped in surprise. He looked up at her and she was looking down at him. He nodded numbly.
"Can you play?" she inquired as she finished her ballad.
"No," Damien answered. "But my mom can..."
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Damien."
"I'm Ms. Warner. Do you go to school here? I've never seen you before."
"No, but my big brother and sister does..."
A certain kind of excitement played across Ms. Warner's features. "You wouldn't happen to be Amy Blackwell's baby brother, would you?"
Caught off-guard, Damien said, "Yep."
Ms. Warner's smile widened. "She's one of my best students. She has an absolute gorgeous voice. She's one of the best students the choir's ever had."
"Do you teach choir?"
"I do. Are you interested in being in the school choir, Damien?"
Shyly, Damien said, "Maybe. My dad said that choir's more for females then..." He trailed off and looked down. "He said I should try to get into sports like--"
"Like Nathan?"
"You know him too?"
"He's one of the most popular cubs in school," she continued. "In fact, I bet the reason you're here is because he's got a game tonight, right?" Damien nodded. She slid over on her seat, patting it in invitation. Damien sat on the seat, looking over at the piano. "Do you want to learn how to play?"
Damien nodded eagerly.
"Alright, I'll teach you a little bit if you make me a promise."
"What's that, ma'am?"
"Never let anyone tell you what you can or can't do, even your dad," she said. "You'll never know what you're capable of until you try."
"DAMIEN!" called Amy as she came into the choir room. Damien, too engrossed in the simple melody he had learned to play, hadn't noticed, but Ms. Warner had. She smiled at Amy, waving her over. Amy, confused, walked over, amazed to see her ten-year-old brother playing the piano.
"I didn't know he could play," Amy breathed.
"He couldn't," Ms. Warner told her, "but only because somebody wouldn't let him learn... Is the game over?"
Amy, having momentarily forgotten, remembered instantly. She reached over and grabbed Damien's arm, pulling him away from the piano.
"Come on!" she huffed. "Mom and Dad are furious! You're going to get in so much trouble! I'm sorry, Ms. Warner. Hope he didn't break anything or--"
"He was no trouble," Ms. Warner answered warmly. "But I can't wait to see him in my class. He'll probably take your place."
Having reached the door, Amy paused looking back at her in confusion.
"He's not really a singer."
"Have you ever heard him sing?" Ms. Warner asked.
"No, but--"
"Listen to him sing when you get home. I promise you'll be surprised. And Damien, remember what we talked about."
"I will, Ms. Warner!" Damien said with a wave.
"Oh, one more thing, Damien." They paused at the door. "I'll tell you what I tell all my students: Be yourself and love yourself because there's no one better at being you than you."
Damien had already started humming to themselves before they had left the parking lot, only halfheartedly listening to his parents' raging about his disappearance. It was only after they had stopped at two stoplights that Marcus had noticed his son's inattention.
_"Damien!"_Marcus shouted, in such a way that it broke into Damien's world, commanding his attention. "What's the matter with you? Aren't you listening?"
Damien, still too startled to reply, only looked down, mumbling, "Sorry, Dad..."
"What's bothering you, Damien?" Selene asked in a much kinder, gentler tone.
Damien swallowed hard. "Can you teach me how to... play the piano?"
The question hung awkwardly in the air and for a moment, even the radio seemed to have fallen silent. When the car behind them honked loudly, Marcus pulled forward and Selene answered.
"Do you really want to learn?"
Damien nodded. "Yep."
Selene grinned. "I'll teach you but you have to remember to practice. _And_remember that you're grounded for sneaking off like that."
"I am?"
"You are."
Six years ago
Twelve-year-old Damien sat at the upright piano in a corner of the living room, which, as always, was vacant at this time of day. His mother was busy running errands, his father was at work, and his siblings were busy with their "high school stuff", as they called it.
It was a time for Damien to practice without interruption, to learn what he could on his own. His mother's instruction had been more than helpful, more than guiding, but now, in her own words, he didn't need her anymore. He just needed to practice on his own, to teach himself what he could. The piece he had propped up on the piano was a classical piece, but he quickly found his attention to the sheet music waning. Reading music had never been as intriguing to him and he was fighting his desire to simply play with his desire to practice.
He started off playing the piece as he read it, not at the tempo which the sheet music indicated, but slightly slower... Then, he found himself changing key... Then changing melody...
Then it was something new.
"What's that tune?" asked Selene as she walked into the house, intrigued by the song which Damien was playing. She looked at the sheet music and frowned. "I think you're playing it wrong."
"No, I'm not. I made this song."
"Really? When?"
"Earlier today!" Damien replied.
"Well, do you have a name for it?"
Damien hesitated, pausing as he played. No, the song didn't have a name. But it should. He considered what it should be for a moment, then remembered something that Ms. Warner had said to him two years ago... He had never forgotten those words spoken to him, holding them closely.
To be himself.
Be himself.
To be myself...
"'Myself'," he answered finally.
"Pardon?" Selene wondered.
"It's called 'Myself'."