I was writing yesterday's journal entry when suddenly, I had this incessant urge to pound on something. My hands became restless. What started as a few simple taps on the table became madness. I couldn't help it. Something flowed into my mind.
I couldn't bring myself to tell Erroll or anyone else. The only few people with whom I shared this passion – Sylvain, Sybil and Térence – had returned to Eventails in Sauveterre, and would be away for three whole days. I decided, then, that I should run away from everyone and everything, just so that I'd be able to express what lay deep in my heart.
After a great deal of searching, I finally found a secluded place. There were trees everywhere, and flowers too. I picked a particularly shady tree and sat down. There was much to love about this place – I could feel the wind constantly blowing on my face, everything I saw around me was in full bloom… I felt like I was in paradise.
I closed my eyes… and I thought of breaking the silence of the afternoon. Yes, you can guess what I did.
I was still practising on the drum, moving my head to the beat, without a care for anything else around me, when someone's voice sent a chill down my spine.
"I didn't think I'd find you here, Aimée."
I turned to see who it was. Oh, rats. It was Erroll. I tried hiding my drum, but…
"Wh- what are you doing here?"
"Responding to a familiar scent. I heard you play."
I was speechless. All I could do was stare at him fixedly. I couldn't even close my mouth.
"What's wrong? Why did you have to go to such a faraway place to practise?"
"Some things are just too difficult to explain. Back home, I've had people laughing at me, pointing fingers at me, calling me names, just because I… I……… I…………"
Erroll held my hand.
"I can't… bring myself to tell anyone about this, and as much as I want to tell my friends, especially you, and all the others I've met… I just can't."
Tears welled up in my eyes. I closed my eyes and let them fall, and at that point in time I submitted myself willingly to Fate.
"Don't worry. Speak in your own language."
I opened my eyes, wiped my tears and looked at him.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. It's a language that I can understand."
As I was playing, I realised that it doesn't take the intellect of a sage to be able to comprehend what the other is saying, if it comes from the heart. People have different ways of telling their stories to others; words aren't the only way to get things across. I have been endowed with the gift of music, and indeed, I take pride in expressing myself, although most of the time I play and sing behind closed doors. But today, my rhythm tells a story, and from the look on his face, I can tell that he understands every word of it.