1.4 Sofia (The End)

LEO

“I was named for the constellation that was especially clear in the sky the night I was born,” I explained.

“So you’re a Leo?” asked Sofia, her head tilting questioningly.

“No, far from it,” I replied. “See, if you are born under a constellation, you won’t see that constellation until about six months after your birthday. They are placed along a theoretical line in the sky, you see, where the sun travels through, so they’ll only be in the sky during the day so you won’t be able to… I’m not doing a very good job of explaining myself,” I finished sheepishly.

She laughed, and her laugh was better than music. “That’s alright. I think I get what you mean.”

She probably didn’t, but that was really more of my fault.

“Sofia!”

We both turned like startled rabbits to see Bjorn striding down the hallway towards us, his expression tense. “Why are you here?” he said with quiet authority to his daughter, not sparing me a single glance.

“I was just asking him what he was playing papa,” she said, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I thought it sounded lovely.”

“That conversation has gone on long enough,” snapped Bjorn. He turned to me. “It is inappropriate. Please stop.”

I took a deep breath, readying myself to defend Sofia. To say whatever I had to say, though I was never a great speaker, but those words were never said.

Sofia finally raised her eyes from the floor. “You’re right,” she said, in a small voice. “It is inappropriate. Maybe it’s best… if you leave.”

I stared her, speechless, though at the same time, wondering why I felt so betrayed. Was it because I thought we were friends? Because I never thought she would dismiss me like this? Was it the fact that SHE was dismissing me? Because I didn’t feel like this was something that should lead to a dismissal?

But really, why was I so shocked? We were never friends, not really. She only talked to me because I was obliged to listen, though I would have listened otherwise. I was the poor entertainer in their employ, without any funds, without even a shack to call my own. It was easy to cut me out and replace me if I became uncomfortable, like a rickety chair. And let’s be honest, I didn’t even play very well.

I left without a word. All the way back to my barren lot I didn’t look back. My hand, clutched around the neck of the fiddle, were white at the knuckles.

As I stood like I did on the day I moved back here, surrounded by the empty foundations of my ancestor’s home, I contemplated on new beginnings within new beginnings. It was time to start over, and this time, I would not run from this land I had fought to reclaim.

It was night by the time I dragged the last of the planks to my lot. By the time I laid the foundations, crudely, my arms were aching and my back would barely straighten. I looked up at the sky. The rainy season would not start for a few weeks yet, but it would not be a good idea to dally. The stars seemed unnaturally bright tonight.
I gritted my teeth and began to nail the planks together.