Under the Piano

The piano’s shawl hides me. Mom comes in and turns on the record player. Famous Opera Arias. Her favorite. The love seat’s plastic squishes when she sits down. She’s wearing her blue socks. The thick itchy ones. I stick my thumb in my mouth and close my eyes. Mom’s record screeches out La donna è mobile. She thinks I scratched it but I didn’t. Here it comes. La —- mobile. Mom sighs. It’s the needle’s fault. It made the scratch, not me. I want to tell her. But I don’t. Liar, she’d say. I don’t care. I’m invisible. Under the piano.

Photo credit: Will Folsom

2 Responses to “Under the Piano”

1. Dasheek says:

   August 31, 2016 at 9:29 am

   Very interesting. I wonder, what is it about
   the piano that makes one invisible. It reminds me of being a child hiding in clothing racks in department stores.
   I love the line “I stick my thumb in my mouth and close my eyes”.

   It really draws the reader to question the actor’s age.

   Reply
   • Roberta Beary says:

     November 18, 2017 at 10:03 am

     Thanks for commenting, Dasheek. For me, the narrator’s age changes with each reading.

     Reply