Eighteen years later…

  My eyes were closed as I felt the gentle serenade of music coming through my headphones. It coursed through me like a flowing river as I held my hand over the keys on my piano, waiting for the right time to join the mellow synthwave. It was one of my more relaxed late night streams, a magical time in my evenings where I listened to whatever music called to me while playing alongside it when the moment was right. There was a light breeze in the air tonight, which made my treetop studio sway gently back and forth. It wasn’t easy turning my childhood treehouse into a music studio, nor was it a simple task to reinforce it to handle the weight of all of my instruments and equipment, but once it was finished, it had been worth all the struggle. I could make as much noise as I wanted up here without bothering anyone; being out in the wilderness meant having the isolation to truly create my own symphony.

  As the instruments’ tune in my ears began to slowly swell, I decided it was the right moment to join them. I began playing along to the music, letting my fingers choose the path to melt my notes within their harmonies. The keyboard was set to a softer, digital sound, matching the evening’s music. It was moments like these where it never felt like I was playing music, but instead, speaking through my hands–a clear sound, a language of feelings and emotion rather than words. I let myself relax, falling into a gentle rhythm as I continued along with the sound speaking to my heart.

  The wonderful trance of gentle, soulful notes was swiftly broken as I heard a sound from outside my headphones. With my free hand, I lifted one of the ear pads off my head as my other hand continued playing along to the music. Though I had silently hoped it was all in my mind, that reality disappeared when I heard a voice from my window.

  “Tess!” I heard below me.

  I immediately opened my eyes, regretting the decision as I squinted from the sun shining through the window. My gaze swung upwards to the clock perched high on the wall–it was nearly nine in the morning.

  “Sorry!” I yelled back as I pulled the headphones off completely, “Give me a sec!” I looked over at my monitor to see six viewers still watching my stream.

  It hardly surprised me, considering the time. I pulled the microphone up to myself, addressing any of my audience still listening.

  “Hey guys, sorry…I lost track of the time there, I could have sworn it was like, two in the morning or something…” I said, still trying to figure out where all the time had gone, “anyway, hope you all enjoyed it! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

  Having said goodbye, I ended the stream and shut the computer down. As I stood from my chair, I turned my attention back to the window, taking a moment to look outside of my tiny studio. It was another cold February morning, with quite a lot of snow still on the ground. After putting my jacket, scarf, and hat on, I felt ready to leave and get started on my chores for the day. Just before I opened the hatch to the world below, I suddenly remembered the most important thing to take with me.

  As I pulled open the drawer next to my desk, I started looking through the different music players in my collection. Each one had a small label on it, distinguishing the mood or meaning of the library on it. There were about twenty in total, each one with a carefully selected set of songs to fit any situation I might cross. I flipped through them with no real pull towards the one I’d choose. I passed by a few labels–“Focus”, “High BPM”, “Relax”, and “Trance”–continuing my search through the music players until I found “Upbeat Energy”. A smile crept its way across my face as I thought of the day ahead of me.

  Haven’t listened to this one for a while.

  I pulled it out and checked the battery. It looked as fully functional as ever. I grabbed my headphones and opened the floor hatch underneath me. A large cold wall of air blasted its way inside, making me thankful that I was prepared for the weather. I made my way down the first few steps. Then, closing the hatch behind me, I jumped down the rest of the fifteen feet to land in the snow to find a very impatient looking John standing next to me. His arms were crossed and an unimpressed scowl was plastered across his face. I knew why, of course. My treehouse was nearly a half of a mile into the woods and I was supposed to be at the house by eight.

  “Sorry, I lost track of…” I started to say before he cut me off.

  “I tried calling over and over, but you never picked up.” He said, matter-of-factly. Without another word, he started walking back in the direction of the house.

  I winced as I looked up at the tree house, realizing my phone was still up there, and with a dead battery. I felt like I was shrinking with every step back to the house. The walk home felt even longer than usual, and as more time passed, the urge to say something, anything, felt more and more difficult. Anything I planned on saying couldn’t escape my mouth; anything I came up with was shut down from my inability to stop overthinking my responses.

  After a few minutes of my internal torture, John stopped as he reached the top of a hill overlooking the house. I followed, stopping a few feet shy of where he stood. John turned around, so I stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes with my own. A moment of silence left the world around us quiet. John must have known how I was feeling, because I soon heard him get down on a knee. As he held his hand out underneath my face, I felt my chin lifting up so I’d look at him.

  He sighed, but smiled at me. “Hey kid, sorry for being grumpy. I was a little upset that I had to make the hike, but it’s not too big of a deal, okay?”

  I took a deep breath as I felt myself relax. It was so easy for me to always get worked up whenever I had any sort of confrontation. If only I could stop myself from getting lost in my own head over it…

  “I…” I stammered for a moment, managing to compose myself, “I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry for not answering…I just got really into the music and the time passed so fast.”

  He smiled and asked, “So what are you going to listen to this morning?”

  It felt like all of the tension melted away as he asked about music. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the music player and held up the label for him to see.

  He nodded, “Upbeat sounds great. After we get the car running, you’ll have the day to yourself. Need to do a few things in town.”

  With one more small smile, John stood back up and we continued on our way through the snow to the house. Already I felt a massive weight off my shoulders, but knowing I’d soon have the day to myself gave me an extra spring in my step. I definitely chose the right mood that day.

  ***

  After I’d carefully lined up the plastic tray with the oil filter, I reached up and unscrewed the cap. John always had me do this part; it was far easier for me to fit underneath the truck and unscrew the cap without any tools. Maybe other people would be annoyed at constantly doing work suited to their build, but it worked out for me. Since I was on the short side, John was willing to help me any time I needed to reach something too high for me. The filter finally came loose, providing the freedom for oil to quickly gush down, covering my hand in it and soaking into the fur on my arm.

  Darn it…

  I pulled my hand back. I thought I could remove my arm in time to avoid getting dirty. John always suggested using gloves, but the gloves he bought were made for him. Too few fingers, too large on the palm…it simply didn’t fit my hand the way it should. It just made more sense for me to go without them.

  By then, the oil had finished dripping into the tray on the ground. I took the new filter and screwed it into place, using my non-oil covered hand to tighten it. After I slid out from under the car with the tray full of used oil, I stood up, being careful not to touch anything as I slid the tray out of John’s way.

  “All done.” I reported as I looked up at John, who was at the other end of the garage grabbing the containers of new oil.

  “Thanks, kid.” he replied, giving an appreciative nod.

  I turned around, heading for the kitchen to clean myself up. John could take care of the rest of the car work on his own. The door was a little stuck, forcing me to yank at it for a few moments. I grunted, giving a harder tug on the handle before it finally swung open. The slippery oil on my hand hadn’t helped. When I reached the kitchen, I pulled the step stool up in front of the sink, hopping on top of it. As I carefully avoided getting oil on the stack of dishes in the sink, I did my best to wash myself up from the side, running the soap through my arm and getting as much of the oil out of my fur as I could. Once my arm was clean, I looked down at the sink. Getting the dishes done should definitely be my first task of the day.

  I dried my hands off with the towel next to me the best I could and went to grab my headphones on the otherwise empty table. On the way to them, however, I noticed my reflection on the wall mirror. Although my pants looked okay, my shirt was an absolute mess, stained by the car oil without my notice. With a frustrated sigh, I started unbuttoning the article of clothing. I’d done my best to keep it clean, but the car had other plans. I tossed the shirt into the laundry pile, only to find the basket was full, almost to the point of overflowing onto the ground. Well, that laundry pile was another thing I’d have to take care of today. It was fine; I loved having something to do while listening to my music.

  Speaking of which…

  I reached up and grabbed the headphones from the table, slipping them on and pulling out the music player from my pocket. I was looking forward to today. I set the music player to “shuffle”, and as soon as the music started, I could feel myself fall into the powerful, upbeat rhythm. Chores didn’t feel like chores when I had the music. Instead, I felt like my body moved on its own while I was traveling on my own, amazing journey. Each passing song took me to different places, letting me experience different realities. I sang along to the music and their voices would become mine. After each song I’d look down to find more of the dishes disappearing from the dirty stack, until they were gone altogether.

  Once the dishes were done, I moved on to laundry. Every step I took was in time with the beat as I danced through the house. My hands did all of the work while my mind went on its own adventure. Once I finished taking care of the laundry, my current expedition slowly came to a pause. As I internally mulled over the list in my head, the next thing on my ‘to do’ list was to take care of the animals outside. I reached up and unplugged my headphones to find the real world immediately crashing back down onto me. A moment ago I had been skateboarding through the streets of L.A.; now I was standing in the laundry room.

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Wanting to return to my adventures as soon as I could, I reached down, pulling out some clothes from the finished laundry basket. I’d fold it all and put it away later. Right now, it was time to return to the frozen land known as the outside once again. Once I put my coat on, I slipped the headphone jack back in place and I was off on my own journey again. I hummed in approval; days like this couldn’t compare with any other. With nobody around, I could sing and dance to my heart’s content and not a soul would see. It was such a freeing experience…and I cherished every moment of it. During days with this freedom, the chores didn’t matter. I was able to be myself without having to worry about anything.

  The chickens were fed, the bird feeders were filled, and best of all, I was already done with the outside chores for the day. Without any plants needing my care, getting outdoor chores during the winter always went faster. After I made my way back indoors, I started cleaning the house itself. Vacuuming, sweeping, dusting…all of the work melted away as the music drove me through all of the chores with ease. With the house in much better condition, I went back to the garage. Before I spotted anything else, I noticed a giant hand print left on the wall next to the door from when I was handling the oil.

  Oh.

  I decided to take care of the remnants of this morning’s work after I finished lunch. I was starting to get hungry, so I made myself a sandwich and grabbed a bag of chips from the pantry. As I walked to the kitchen table, I glanced at the clock. It was nearly three in the afternoon. Still, I wasn’t bothered by it; it was pretty normal for me to lose a lot of time when I listened to music for more than an hour. Then, in a sudden flash, what felt like an hour was suddenly five. Today, though, having that time pass in the blink of an eye was fine with me. I was feeling great, everything was done, and now I could spend the rest of the day at my outpost.

  Since I knew I could wait a little while longer to eat, I threw the lunch into my backpack along with a container of water and made my way back to the treehouse. It was a long walk, but with music guiding me every step of the way, it felt as if it took mere minutes. After I reached the top of the ladder, I closed the latch behind me, giving a deep sigh at the click. That sound was a blissful reminder: I was alone, free to create and be myself.

  My treehouse studio was a small, cramped room sitting up in the trees, and the sheer amount of music equipment didn’t help accommodate the size. I sat on the chair and looked around the small room. There, in my vision all at once, rested the drum set to my left, the double stacked keyboard with eighty-eight keys in front of me, a few string instruments laying in the corner, and the collection of electric and acoustic guitars on the wall. It was a wonder I had gotten it all to fit, but it felt perfect. It was my own personal space and I loved it.

  I wiggled the mouse at my computer and sat back, watching it start up. While I did so, I suddenly remembered the conversation from this morning. I grabbed my cell phone and plugged it into the charger.

  Better get my phone alive again before I forget. I’d rather not go through that mistake again.

  With my computer started up completely, I unplugged the headphone cable from my music player and moved it over to the desktop. Once all of my programs had been fully opened, I heard a ringing in my headphones almost immediately. Someone in my small circle of friends had invited me to join the group call, one which always had at least a couple of people talking regardless of the time. I looked down at my backpack with my lunch, then back up at the call. It looked like there were about six people in there. I wasn’t planning on doing this right now, but as I thought it over, I figured I hadn’t spoken to them in a few days. I grabbed my boom mic and swung it over in front of me and joined the call.

  Oliver, as always, was the first to say something. “Tess! Good morning!” he exclaimed.

  I tilted my head at his greeting, a little confused. “Ocelot, it’s three in the afternoon.”

  He laughed and responded, “yeah, but after that all nighter you just pulled, I figured you crashed pretty hard.”

  “Oh…” I thought for a second, “...I see what you mean. Actually, I was doing chores all day, but I got done with everything so I’m back.”

  Jeremy cut into the conversation. “That's really not healthy. You shouldn’t do that to yourself.”

  I paused, not sure what to say. I didn’t feel comfortable coming into this chat and having people start asking about all this stuff.

  Ethan joined in: “Tess told me she only sleeps like, twice per week or something. I told her the same thing.”

  I felt myself lightly biting my lip. I wanted the subject to change, but I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I just remained silent until they moved on to something else. I looked down at my hands as they continued their conversation, nervousness slowly swelling up inside me. A soft pinging noise pulled me out of my thoughts as I looked up. Oliver had sent me a private message.

  It read: “Hey, sorry for putting the attention on you there.”

  Despite how I felt at that moment, a small smile grazed my face. Oliver could always tell when I was feeling downtrodden.

  I typed back to him: “Don’t worry about it” and left it there.

  By this point, the conversation in the call had moved to something else. I didn’t have a lot of friends, but the ones I did were special to me. We originally met on a tech support forum. I had been trying to figure out how to get all of my music equipment to work with my computer, but despite my best efforts, it just wasn’t coming together like I planned. The camera on my phone had always been broken, so I had to settle on describing everything to them as they guided me. We eventually got everything to work, and whenever anything breaks they’re always there to help me through it. It turned out most of my friends worked from home, so I decided I would start DJing for them whenever our schedules aligned. Between most of my friends working from home and my own schedule leaving me with not much else to do besides housework, I was able to perform for them pretty often.

  “Tess? Hello?”

  My ears perked up as I heard my name coming from the chat. I looked up as I suddenly realized I had been zoning out for the past few minutes.

  “What? Sorry I wasn’t paying attention…” I responded.

  “I asked if you’d be streaming tonight,” Rachael repeated, “I’m working late and I wouldn’t mind having someone to keep me company.”

  Since this group started on a tech support forum, pretty much everyone other than me had a job working with computers–from data recovery, to IT work, and almost anything in between–they collectively knew quite a lot. Rachael worked at a call center for virus protection software. Given her late hours, there was usually a lot of down time between her phone calls.

  “Oh, um…sorry, not tonight. I’ll definitely need some sleep soon. I was gonna spend the rest of the day just playing music.” I told her as I started up my audio software.

  I liked to record my sessions sometimes, just in case I came up with something I liked and wanted to keep it.

  “Oh that’s too bad.” Oliver responded, “I was hoping you’d stay and chat for a bit.”

  I was closer to Oliver than anyone else and I didn’t want to disappoint him, but I really wasn’t in much of a talking mood and I wanted to get back to my music.

  “We’ll talk later, okay? Just wanna play music for a while.” I told him as I dragged the mouse cursor towards the “hang up” button on the chat. I gave them a final “see you all later!” and with that goodbye, I left the call.

  I sat back in the chair, taking a deep breath. I knew it was a small group of people, and I did know all of them really well…but even in small groups, I always felt a little overwhelmed when I spoke up to several people. One-on-one conversations were a lot easier for me to follow compared to group chatter. When it came to speaking in the group, I preferred to converse through text.

  I looked to one side to see my wall of guitars. As my gaze went the other way, I glanced at the keyboards. Today felt like more of a guitar kind of day. Besides, it had been a few weeks since I had spent time playing the acoustic. I reached out for it, but stopped myself.

  Right, I need to trim my nails first.

  My fingernails were shaped more like thick claws. A while back I’d found out I was able to play some instruments really well if I cut a triangular groove into the tips of my nails, which let me lock each finger onto a string. It gave me the precise control I’d been looking for over the instrument compared to when I used the soft pad on my fingertips. I pulled my knife file out of the drawer. It was far more effective than a normal counterpart, the edge of it able to cut grooves into my nails the exact size I needed to grip the strings. Unlike John and Emily, I had two more fingers to file down, making the process take a bit more time. Even so, I figured it made up for it–the guitar had six strings, which meant I could play it more effectively.

  I wonder if they make guitars for people like them…well, other than a banjo, I guess...

  I worked on filing my nails down, a thankfully short process since I’d done the same work on them last week. Once I felt they were in the right shape, I gently pulled the guitar off the wall and began tuning it. Something about when I used a digital tuner...never really settled with me. It felt right to use my own fingers to find the right sound. I’d listened to plenty of tutorials about keeping all of the guitar strings in the correct pitch in comparison with each other, but I found I was able to change the feeling of the guitar based on how I tuned it. Rather than worrying about numbers and regulations, I instead chose to go with what felt best at the time.

  After I turned the recording software on, I reached up and turned all the lights off in the room. With the cozy feeling encompassing me as I settled into the right headspace, I wheeled myself over to the large window. I got myself comfortable as I sat up in the chair for a moment. Then, letting my body relax, my form draped over the seat. I found myself leaning back, my tail hanging off the front as I laid the guitar on top of myself.

  I looked out at the woods around me, admiring the mostly silent world, sounds muffled by the leftover snow. Still, as I listened for a few moments, I could hear the gentle sounds of life tucked away in warm crevices of trees and holes disappearing into the earth. Today felt like a day I should play for them. They never seemed to pay me any attention, but I liked to pretend they enjoyed the concert I put on for them. In the summer months, I preferred sitting up on the roof to get a better view, but in the cold, it was hardly comfortable. Besides, I didn’t want the instrument to go out of tune, either.

  As I gazed out towards the tree directly in my line of sight, I spotted a squirrel standing out on a branch. While I watched it, my hands began playing the guitar, eyes continuing to see how the small, furry creature would respond. The squirrel jumped from branch to branch as the notes followed his story. My fingers continued to play along, jumping between chords, the movements of the squirrel becoming notes from the instrument in my lap. Each pluck and strum from the acoustic guitar followed the squirrel’s journey as it went down along the trunk and began bouncing across the forest floor.

  I watched the squirrel disappear from sight, instinctively changing to a more mellow rhythm as the gentle breeze in the trees took my melody’s attention. Each chord flowed into the next as nature decided the song’s path. A few minutes later, a sparrow flew into my view, changing the gentle strumming once more. The sun started to go down, but I continued to play. With no lights in my studio, my own vision adjusted as the fluffy, gray clouds in the sky changed to splashes of pink and purple. The daytime creatures departed to their homes, one by one, and the nocturnal animals took their places in the trees around me and the ground below my treehouse. I could hear an owl in the distance as my vision drifted up to the heavens where stars began twinkling all around me. I closed my eyes and let the music take me wherever it wanted. I felt it getting slower and slower as I found myself drifting into a gentle, satisfied slumber.

  I woke up to the sound of my stomach giving a loud, expectant growl. As I slowly opened my eyes, I saw the soft glow of moonlight streaming in through my window.

  Darn it…

  I slowly sat up and reached for a light switch, closing my eyes and flicking a light on. Giving myself a few moments to adjust to the brightness, I slowly opened my eyes before I hung the guitar back up on the wall. I rolled over to my computer, hitting “stop” on the recording and shutting the electronics down. I stretched out and reached for my phone to see any notifications on it.

  “Happy birthday!” it read.

  I blinked. I hadn’t even realized it. The time on my phone read twelve thirty in the morning. It was my eighteenth birthday.

  I can’t believe I forgot…

  I picked up my backpack, opening the hatch to the rest of the world. It was time to go back to the house to sleep in my real bed. I figured I’d just eat the sandwich on the way back.