C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

The unfinished melody woke up Moira from her lethargy. She paused, listening if the melody would continue. She hated the sound of xylophone. She hated this nursery rhyme. The same melody played over and over, day after day. It was driving her mad but at the same time it brought in relief.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

Moira sighted. The relief to know Tim was playing the xylophone.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

She was just cooking dinner. She knew she could be cooking dinner. Tim was playing the xylophone. In his room.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

Would he ever learn how to finish the song? He was not stupid. Well, he was. She was not sure. He managed to go to school all right. But he didn’t like anyone else doing things other way than his.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

She didn’t need to worry. Tim was playing the instrument that fascinated him for whatever reason. He was not banging his head against the wall. He was not fighting with other children.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

It reminded her of her husband. It was his idea to give Tim xylophone.

“Music will open him new horizons,” he kept saying when he watched Tim tearing off spider’s legs. He thought it would help him change, help him understand. He left when he saw Tim torturing neighbour’s dog. Only the xylophone stayed.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

Moira learnt to use the xylophone to keep Tim busy. He carried it everywhere — to school, to the park. If he played it, she was free to do whatever she wanted to do. Not that she was so passionate about cooking but they needed to eat.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

Enough. Why he never learnt to finish the song? Was it his way of torturing her? Years and years on. He never hit her. If Moira dared to think about it she would have to admit that she was actually the only person Tim never hit. Ever.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

She couldn’t stand it anymore. Deep breath in, she decided to go to see Tim. Her walk was towards his room was much less firm than she would have liked. She was a ghost.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

She opened the door.

“Tim, honey, stop playing, it’s time to eat.”

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

The room was empty. Not just spotless, everything in order — the bed, the table, the chair. But void of Tim. Void of the xylophone.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.

The gramophone. Another present from her useless husband.

Moira walked to the open window. She closed it.

Breath out. She collapsed on the floor, crying.

C-C-E-E-F-F, pause.