Masha, right on cue

I was in this exact same spot the last time Masha randomly knocked on my door.

She was drunk the first time we met. She sort of stumbled in, looking for the piano. It wasn't in the safe anymore, she explained. I guess she had gotten used to coming by and playing it there. I'm not really sure how she knew it had ended up in my room. Lucky guess, I guess. Then she kind of just barged in. I was sitting on the couch, reading Interpreter of Maladies and trying to decipher Shukumar in a bid to make sense of my own turmoil. She apologized for the random visit and went straight for the piano. She started playing and was quite good for someone who kept on insisting she wasn't. She asked if I could accompany her on the drums. I agreed, even though I really couldn't. It was awkward. But we ended up jamming for half an hour regardless. She ended up coming back at least once more that night - apologizing both on the way in and on the way out. She promised she'd be back in about three months.

Tonight was about three months, give or take. And I was on that same couch. Except this time I had no clues to decipher; no characters to read up on. Just broken text messages. And emptiness. And Masha walked in after poking her head into the small cat flap I had added especially for Angel. She apologized again and walked straight to the piano. She insisted I looked too young to be a building owner. Wasted, she made sure to remind me not to 'rape her' or anything. I laughed and agreed. Luckily I didn't have to play drums this time. I just listened to her play, watching her fingers stretched delicately over the keys. She played a song she felt could pass for a complete song and spoke of lyrics she was too shy to sing.

When she was done we spoke about songs that made her cry and others that made her want to run. We spoke about life and loving too much and the pitfall of complete happiness - at least as far as her own creative process was concerned. There was something to be said about turmoil, I said, only half believing my words. She asked me to tell her the most important thing I had learned in life. I said it was that things are never as sure as they may seem; that learning to accept that was the only way to live.

She agreed, asked me for my name again and thanked me for the talk. Told me she'd probably see me again in about three months.

I wondered how long she might knock next time before realizing I wouldn't be there to open the door.