Indigo (Shade of a golden heart) - Season 2 - Episode 3

5 years ago

Indigo (Shade of a golden heart) - Season 2 - Episode 3

The older man’s eyes were closed. He was so deep into the melody of his violin. He felt the song deep inside his soul, there was nothing like good music.

Music did many things to people. It could redeem you and give you hope. It could make you feel worse after listening. It had the power to heal, by stirring up memories and straightening them out with hopeful crescendos.He released the stick he stroked the violin with and faced his children, who stared at him with awkward faces.

‘What? Don’t you like the music?’ He asked.
‘I do like it.’ Chalya blurted out, but he knew she was lying. Chalya was his sweetheart, and would do anything to make him happy.
‘I don’t like it, songs like that remind me of Adele. They have a similar effect on my mind.’ Phillip confessed.

‘And what is that?’ The man asked.
Phillip was not ready to offer his father an answer, ‘Can we go straight to the point? I believe we did not come here to discuss our love or hate for depressing music.’

Chalya winced inwardly at her brother’s sharp reply. Why couldn’t Phillip pretend for once? When would he realize that he was hurting their father?

‘Music is everything son. It makes you question a lot of things and it provides the same answers that you seek.’ The man ignored Phillip’s behavior.

From his father’s tone, he knew he was stuck in this meeting for an hour or more. He hated himself for listening to his mischievous sister.
He wanted to say more, but he allowed the old man to continue.

‘Children, have you ever wondered who created this master piece?’ He was referring to the tune he had just played, “Maid with the Flaxen Hair.”

Chalya shook her head, Phillip ignored him.
‘It was originally a poem written by Leconte de Lisles in French, before it was adopted as a melody by the French composer, Claude Debussy. The piece is known for its musical simplicity, a divergence from Debussy’s style at the time. It was completed in January, 1910.’ He loved telling his children stories, and this moment reminded him of when they were very little…when that traitor was still alive.

Phillip couldn’t take it anymore, ‘Come on dad, what business is ours with history? It wouldn’t kill you if you go straight to the point!’

Once again, his father ignored him and continued rambling about the history of Debussy’s piece.
‘The piece represents innocent and naivety and I was once like that. You are like that son, naïve and innocent.’ He dropped the violin and rose to his feet.

Phillip felt insulted that his father would use such words on him.

‘Don’t tell me it is about insults now?’
‘Not at all, Phillip, you know I would never do a thing like that.’

‘Can you just stop and listen to dad?’ Chalya whispered to him, afraid that Phillip’s rudeness would cause another fight between them.

The man turned back and faced his son, ‘I have shielded you from a lot of things Phillip Hajjo, and it appears to me, that I made a great mistake by keeping the truth about your mother’s devilish nature away from you.’

The man was sad that his goodness had turned to something unexpected. He had carried a heavy secret all these years, hoping that his son would grow to love him, but all to no avail. Instead of love, Phillip abhorred his very presence.

Both kids were stunned at their father’s use of words.

‘Dad, are you alright?’ Chalya knew her father took alcohol once in a while. She stared at the bottle of Hennessy on the lowly table which was accompanied with a copy of George Orwell’s “Animal Farm.”

Phillip’s blood began to boil as he stared at the old man.

‘I will not sit here and listen to this. You don’t have respect for the dead, why should I respect you?’ His heart was beating quite fast, how dare his father speak ill of his angel? The woman that had brought him life that had sacrificed her life so he could be live.

The man ignored his kids and went on, ‘I made a mistake by not telling you that everything that had happened that day at the forest reserve was your mother’s fault. I thought I could win you over to my side, but everything backfired on me.’

Chalya didn’t like where this was leading. She quickly moved out of her chair and walked towards her father.

Dad, you don’t have to do this. Even if Phillip is not on your side, I am on your side. I was not there and I don’t know what happened to our mother. But I forgive you; I know you had your reasons for running. I knew you’d wanted to get some help, you don’t need to do this…’ she didn’t like that her father was about telling lies about their mom, just to get on Phillip’s good side.

‘Open that book Phillip to where it’s earmarked. You’ll see a brown envelope, open it and fetch the letter.’

Chalya’s heart was pounding fast; she didn’t like the look on her father’s face nor the tone in his voice. He seemed angry, embittered and pain. She could see the hurt spread all over his face.
‘Dad…’ tears welled up in her eyes.

‘No, you both need to know the truth. You are mature enough!’ He raised a hand into the air.
Phillip knew his father’s gimmicks. He knew the man wanted to paint his mother black before him, but that was not going to work.

‘If you think I’ll get angry and walk away from you, then you are in for a surprise. I will take that paper our and read, don’t forget that I remember by mother’s handwriting.’

He leaned close to the table and pulled out a brown envelope from the old and dusty paperback.

‘Open it…’ his father commanded.
‘Dad, what is in that envelope?’ Chalya asked her father.

‘Tell us Phillip, you can read that letter loud. I want everyone to know the truth.’

A puckish smile split his face into two as he began to read…