2011 Issue - Santa Fe Community College

over, his long gorgeous fingers holding it out like a prize. Her mother
had called them “piano player fingers” when Jason was a baby. His fingers
were long even then and so fine that the light shone through them.
“So, like, what did you want” Ike asked
“What were you playing”
“Symphony of Destruction, Megadeth, do you know it”
“No, actually I don’t.”
“Wanna hear me play it”
“Sure.” She followed Ike into the apartment and down a hallway
lined with pictures of him at every age. She hadn’t touched the pictures
at home. She half expected them to come to life, like something out of
Harry Potter.
Ike’s bedroom walls were covered with posters of bands. A drum kit
filled the corner of the room. Laura sat on the edge of the unmade bed.
“These sticks are new. I’m still getting used to them,” said Ike. Laura
nodded.
One, two, three,” Ike counted off and began drumming. The noise
was fantastic. Laura could feel her heart beating. She nodded her head in
time. Ike smiled. His hands flew as he beat the drums. He closed his
eyes, lost in the rhythm. The cymbals crashed. Ike raised his arms, sticks
in hand, in triumph. Laura laughed for the first time in months.
The music stopped, but she could feel it echoing in her ears, filling
up the empty spaces.
“You wanna try it” asked Ike, holding out the sticks. Laura took the
sticks and sat behind the drum kit.
The sticks were light in her hands. Ike gave her the thumbs up and
counted “One, two three . . .”
Laura raised her arms, waiting to feel the drum beats vibrating
through her fingertips straight to her heart.
Santa Fe Literary Review 97