Chapter 52

They walked back to their hotel in silence, with Richard not taking his arm off Maine and Maine continued to lean her head on his shoulder.

When they arrived at the hotel, the receptionist called out to Richard before they headed up to their rooms. He excused himself from Maine to talk with the receptionist.

"Captain Faulkerson," she said. "Mauro found out that you arrived today. He left his guitar here in case you need to use it."

Richard's face brightened when the receptionist brought out a guitar bag. He took the case and thanked the receptionist. He slung the bag over his shoulder and went back to Maine. Taking her hand to his, they proceeded to head upstairs.

"The staff seem to know you well," Maine observed as they started up the stairs.

"MJN is a regular client of theirs," he explained. "We always book here when we fly to Milan. It's a regular flight destination of the company and I usually get to fly here three times per rotation. Although, I never got to last rotation. They sent me mostly to South America last time. I got to befriend a staff who was willing to lend me his guitar whenever I'm here."

When they reached their floor, Richard heard Maine "tsk".

"What's wrong?" He asked.

"I forgot to get the key from Ardee," she replied.

"No worries. Come on," he reached out and took her hand. He led her to his room. When they entered, Maine noted that there was only one queen sized bed in the room. There was a small table with two chairs where Richard placed the food they got from Gian Carlos, and a 40-inch LED TV. He placed the guitar gently on the wall beside the bathroom.

"You're alone in your room?"

"Perks of being the captain," he explained as he took his jacket off to hang on the coat rack. "Martin would have a similar room to mine since he's Head FA."

She just nodded as Richard helped her off her jacket. Once they got settled, Richard led her to the small dining table and assisted her to a chair. He then prepared the dinner that Gian Carlo readied for them. They ate dinner in silence, once in a while they would complement on the food. He cleared the table after dinner when Maine asked if she could use his bathroom to freshen up.

Richard knew that she was buying time, trying to organize her thoughts. So while she got comfortable on his bed after she used the bathroom, he went to pick up the guitar and checked if it was in tune. Maine just watched him as he fiddled with the guitar.

"How long have you been playing?" She finally asked. She sat on the center of his bed, hugging one of his pillows, while he sat on the couch near the window of his room.

"I learned to play when I was nine," he answered. "It had actually helped me focus when my parents were separated."

"What about composing," she inquired. "When did you start writing songs?"

"Mom said I've been writing poems since I was a kid," Richard replied as he plucked the strings on the guitar. "But I first thought of putting melody to my poems when I first saw you. It was the first time Rich led you to his room. I remembered you were looking for Rich's guitar. It actually got me laughing and woke me up really good. But then I saw words form in my head and a tune that won't go away. So I started writing it and then put music into the words. 'Central Park' was born. Then it just became easier for me to write and put music in."

"Gian Carlo seemed to know you pretty well," Maine remarked.

Richard smiled at the memory of their first meeting.

"It was my third time in Milan," he related with a smile. "I was just a reserve pilot back then. I was looking for a place to write. The pub had just opened that day so there weren't many people yet. So I got a place in the corner and started writing while waiting for my order. Gian Carlo took an interest since I was so engrossed in writing that I had completely forgotten about my food. He came and asked what I was doing. I thought I was in trouble. He was a very imposing man. I thought I'd insulted him for not touching my food. So I honestly answered that I was composing. He got curious and asked if I play an instrument. When I said I played the guitar, he left and came back with a guitar in hand asking me to play something. The first song that came into my mind was 'Central Park' so I played that to him. He was delighted. Eversince that day, he had invited me to play in his pub whenever I'm here. I get a free dinner for the effort...well, okay not just a dinner but everything is on the house. Our dinner tonight was courtesy of 'Gian Carlos' by the way."

He continued without any prompt from Maine, "I usually just keep to myself whenever I'm out. I would befriend the hotel staff and ask if I can borrow a guitar from any of them. For sure there would be at least one bell boy or cleaning crew who owns a guitar. When you've been to places over and over, the novelty wears off. It gets boring going to the same place over and over. So I just take the time to just read or play in my hotel room. Most of the time I actually just sleep too. As much as I want to bring my guitar everywhere I go, it's bulky and it would take up space that's intended for the passengers. So I make do with borrowing when I'm out of the country."

Maine listened to Richard as he told his story. And she was amazed how dedicated he was with his music.

"Have you ever considered making music as a profession?" She asked, quite intrigued.

"Honestly?" He replied with a short chuckle. "No. Music is really a great hobby for me. My stress reliever from all the things that I have to put up with on a daily basis. It also helped me when I was grieving. But I love flying. I've always wanted to be a pilot. There is something fascinating and magical about flying an airplane. My short stints at 'Gian Carlos' is something I do so that I can share my music. My thoughts and feelings all packaged in a song. I call it my catharsis."

"Do you get to play anywhere else?"

"Brazil," he answered. "I get to play with the street musicians there. I don't get to play my original compositions but playing with other people is fun too."

"I would love to see you play there too," she said.

"You will," he replied with a smile. "I know we have a schedule there for next month."

Maine just nodded as she tried to process everything. Richard strummed softly playing random music to pass the time. Finally, Maine took a deep breath and asked what had been on her mind since the start.

"Does Alden even know how to play the guitar?" She asked timidly.

Richard stopped playing and placed the guitar on the couch. He stood and approached her on the bed. He sat at the edge, and he reached out to take her hands, his thumbs drawing circles at the back of her palms. His head bowed as he looked at their hands together. He wished he would still be able to hold her like this. She heard him take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He finally looked up to stare at her eyes.

"He couldn't play," he replied with a sad smile. "He couldn't even sing. He tried to learn the piano once but he got bored. He never tried again."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly once more before he went on, "I'm really sorry you have to find out this way. This wasn't how I wanted you to find out. I just couldn't figure out how to tell you."

"Why didn't you just tell me, RJ?" Maine asked. There wasn't any hint of blame in her voice, just outright curiosity.

"How could I, Maine?" He remarked. "It's really not something you can just spring out all of a sudden. Like, 'oh, by the way Maine. I was the one who's been singing to you all these years because my brother's tone deaf.'"

There was pain in his eyes as he continued, "how can I tell you, Maine? Can you tell me how I could have approached this without tarnishing the good memory you have of my brother? How can I tell you something so that you could have wrapped your head around it without feeling like you've been tricked and played at all these years?"

His tears began to fall that Maine reached out and wiped them with her hands. He took another deep breath as he went on, "we wanted to tell you everything. That summer when Rich was suppose to graduate. We had it all planned out. We were going to tell you, bring you into the fold with us. But he died and I couldn't come near you when you were conscious. I wanted so much to tell you everything, Maine. But I don't know how."

Maine's heart went out to Richard as he let out his frustrations. She reached around his neck and pulled him to her, giving him a warm embrace. Richard stiffened for a moment, surprised by the gesture. But eventually, he placed his arms around her waist and returned the embrace.

"I'm so sorry, Maine!" He said in between sobs. "I'm really sorry!"

She held him tighter, and Maine let him cry on her shoulder. She knew he needed it. And she cried with him. A feeling of regret for the lost time they would have shared together, if fate gave them a different road to take.

Richard needed to grieve. He had kept it in all these years that he really needed to let it all out. Maine cried with him as she needed to wash all the regret that she felt.

Her heart pounded on her chest. She felt that different kind of palpitations, like the flutter of wings. Alden's heart seemed happy, like that little piece of her was finally coming back home and he couldn't wait to step in the door.