The wind chimes that forgot how to sing

Draft from book three (Ashes of Angels) from the series, "Theory of Constraints: The Uncertainty Principle"

The following is protected under copyright.

© Sasha Falconi

Diego

The Wind Chimes That Forgot How to Sing

(Luciano POV)

I always imagined my life as a family, a big family. A wife, four kids, a dog, a messy house full of finger paintings, a small reading room just for me, full of textbooks in five languages, a room dedicated just for depravity with the wife. She would stay home with the children, I would work, using my degree to make the world a better place for all of them, and one I can be happy to live in. Now, I have a guilt-laced double homicide crime scene where Juliet, who isn’t even my daughter, throws her food crumbs and plays. I’ve ensured she has no way to access the bedroom, where it all took place, where things remain. But this house, this house is a haunted mausoleum, a display of my failings. I’ve destroyed everything.

I sit here, outside in the back patio, watching her carry a pail of water back and forth from the pond to the grass to water a flower, over and over. The flower is dead, but she continues to nourish it, she has no idea how much death surrounds her innocent world. I roll a single

acorn under my shoe, back and forth, watching her, hearing the slight crunch of the ridges against the pavement. She is adorable, but exhausting.

I don’t know how Aria did this all day. I feel overstimulated by her screaming and constant needs, but my mind is teetering between grief, guilt and trying to remember to cook dinner for her, take out the trash on trash night, to wear my gloves around her just in case I’m still sick. NO PUT THE GRASSHOPPER DOWN. LET HIM JUMP IN THE GRASS. I don’t know how something can be overwhelmingly overstimulating and mindrottingly boring at the same time. Reading the same books, over and over, playing the same games for hours, I’m dying for conversation outside of YES BLUE! THAT’S A BLUE BALL! Uh… what was I saying, I used to conduct meetings with astrophysicists, now, now I’m pulling green boogers out of my beard, and they’re not even mine…

But I love her so much, and I’m afraid to kiss her, to hold her, it’s hard to comfort her when I feel like I need to be in full hazmat attire just to be near her. Zack said I’m clean, DON’T DRINK THAT. JULIET STOP. PUT THAT DOWN. DON’T DRINK THAT. DRINK FROM THE PINK CUP. THE PINK CUP. PINK. THE PINK CUP. No that’s the… Juliet. Don’t drink the pond water, mio Dio. JULIET STOP, PUT THAT DOWN. Can you water the flower for pappa, per favore? It’s not broken no, it’s… Yes play with the broom. Good job honey. Fuck she knocked over… God damn it.

Fuck. I can’t think at all. I can’t process JULIET STOP. COME HERE.

Honey, look at all these toys you have? Can you please play with them? Daddy is having a mental collapse of biblical proportions and needs to think. Did you poop? You pooped. Okay. Okay. We change your diaper.

I need help. I need a break. I need a few days at least to process, to figure out what to do. Maybe she will be quiet while I get her diaper.

I hold her hand, and focus my energy to contain whatever evil traces are left in me, to dissipate from my hand, mind over matter maybe. Who knows. Diapers don’t bother me, it’s the squirming, the kicking, last time she kicked me in the groin and I coughed directly in her face, I think of that moment 14 times a day, did anything pass to her? Did my poison get to her innocence. I watch her to see if I notice anything off, so far, its been a week, and she seems ok. Swift kicker that one. If anything were to happen to her… NO! Honey give me that, please, those are mommy’s windchimes. Yes daddy never hung them. Daddy is bad. Don’t touch honey, its sharp here, it broke. Of course it broke. If I just hung it. If I just…

The night goes on, she ate most of her dinner, I change her and read her a story a few dozen times before she finally is ready for sleep. I sing her Fa La Ninna, a classic Italian lullaby, and turn out the light.

As soon as I hear her say in the darkness, “momma. Love you momma” I feel the ground under my feet swallow me like a pool of acid. I can’t do this. I can’t do this! I can’t be a single father, I can’t do this alone, and what if I’m still… I can’t…

I leave the baby monitor off tonight. If she cries for me, I can’t help her anymore. Maybe I’m a ghost slowly being reincarnated? I had to die to become me again? I hope. Is there still hope for me? I feel panic flood me, another panic attack. I’ve been getting them every day again. I know it’s not a heart attack but God in the moment, there are times I pray it is, a big one, to take everything away, to keep Juliet safe from me.

I don’t want to be alone tonight. My world has crumbled, I need to mourn, but I can’t function alone. Maybe… maybe I call him.

Yes. Fuck it. Why not. Zack said I’m okay, I feel overall fine, in that sense. I just can’t, I can’t even remember to eat. My coffee sits cold on the counter from 8 hours ago, I’ve microwaved it 5 times. I put the pepper in the freezer, my keys in the garbage, the garbage in the dishwasher, and I wore Aria’s coat and almost left the house. I haven’t showered in 4 days, and I sleep about 3 hours a night. I looked for Aria this morning, I even made her breakfast. I still have it sitting at the table. I can’t bare to touch it, but the sight of it, may be worse, I can’t tell, but I am immobilized.

Without overthinking this, I’m going to call him. Zack said I’m okay. I should have a sign if I start getting those urges again. Right now, I’m just a normal man with too many problems and a feral child with no help, and nothing to offer the world besides nihilistic humor and a nice sad smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

I call him, and I don’t even feel nervous, I’m excited. I don’t have to sneak now, I can just be with him. I don’t care if the neighbors see, they will think he is my friend coming over. And he is. It rings twice and I panic. I hang up. I need a shower first. I will think better if I’m clean and maybe he can sense I’m gross. Shower first.

My phone vibrates, it’s a text from him: “butt dial?”

I send back “no. I’ll call you back. Give me ten minutes. I’m sorry.”

He sends me a thumbs up, and I rush to the shower. I scrub myself down with bleach as usual, then resume my usual American Psycho inspired routine of creams, exfoliates, oils, and soaps. I open her shampoo bottle and squeeze it to let the scent enter my nose. I don’t know what kind of man I will be now, one without Aria, no song, no swan.

But I still have this fucking kid. Ace’s daughter. A walking, screaming, shitting vampiric embodiment of my failure to her.

I’m garbage. Bleach will never be enough to clean rot.

I step out of the shower and check the time, it’s been 20 minutes. Whoopsies.

What should I wear? Apparently, I’m single now. And I’m inviting my ex over like a hot mess. I should also dress like a hot mess, one that he wants to clean up? But I still need to be hot. A delicate balance of sexy and devastated. My specialty.

First, I have to have that tousled bed head, and a little bit of smudged eyeliner for old time’s sake. No. No that’s too obvious. Oh god. Okay. No. Back to basics. I’ve been classy, and refined, for years, I wear that well. I wear that, with messy hair. That will speak my truth… if I have any.

I change while dialing him, to make it sound like I’m busy. Not desperate, not in need, though I am. I need to sound like, I forgot to call him because I have other things going on. Which I do. He answers.

“You owe me a pack of smokes. That was 3 hours Luc. I was getting nervous. Are you ok?”

“THREE Hou… Oh. Shit. Yes. It was. Ha! I’m sorry. I was involved with some things. How are you.”

“You know. The same.”

I look in the mirror and curl my hair just right, sleazily over my eyes. I look at myself as I say with nothing but confidence and command. “Tonight, drinks. My place.”

His response is delayed. I hear his breath catch. “Your place? What… about, your family?”

“Aria is… out. And…I need to see you. Please. I need to see you again.” I lean into the mirror and tilt my head back to inspect my neck. Everything looks ok. No black spidery creeping veins, no sludge, no red ring in my eyes, no visuals, no voices. Okay.

“Luc, this was a bad idea the first… four times. I don’t know. Of course I want to see you, I miss you. But in all good conscious, I don’t want to destroy your life, your marriage. You need to take this more serious or, if you’re having problems, you have to end it with her.”

I twang my hair in my eye with my finger. “I’ve… ended things. With her. It’s done. Please, come over.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m as true as an old man on his death bed mourning his failed life.”

“So fucking dramatic. God I miss you. Ok. I’m coming over. We can talk details in person. Is she going to come back tonight?”

“She’s not coming back.” My voice betrays me, I crack the words.

“Luc…”

“It’s fine. Let’s… let’s just talk when you get here. Juliet is down, it’ll be just us until morning when she wakes up.”

The rest of this time feels like feathers and fingertips. I am unable to remember how we ended the call, I imagine I didn’t just stop existing until he showed at my door, but that is absolutely what it felt like. I have been cleaned of this, and though the betrayals and slaughter I can never undo… The curse is lifted, I can learn to live again, with my Diego, and…Juliet. This is not at all what I imagined, but life has a way of showing you a piece of candy in that heart shaped box, that one piece that surprises you with a flavor you never craved until you sink your teeth into it.

Time passes and I hear the motorcycle in the distance and my heart begins to race. I start tidying up, I don’t know why, I already cleaned everything. Maybe it’s too clean. I knock over some pillows and put out a few dirty cups. I step back and analyze. I don’t like this. I put the cups back and straighten the pillows. He’s never been to my house. I can’t call it my home anymore, but, it was, at one point.

He’s getting closer. I check the mirror, open my top button with just my thumb and suck my teeth, and twirl on my heel as I saunter out into the living room again. I feel so alive. He’s coming to my house!

I see the headlights fill the darkness of our road, like a tidal wave of rebellion growling through this pretentious street full of snobs and people who put their dogs in baby strollers. I hope the neighbors wake up and see him. I hope they call the cops. HA!

My love for him was only paused. I loved Aria but I can never just stop loving someone, I just….had to put him away. My Aria, my world, I love you. I wish I never met you and ruined your life with mine.

He pulls into the driveway, and leans to the side, that heavy boot on the ground. He flicks up his helmet and looks at me, I barely see him in the dark but the street light catches just enough. I’m standing in the living room, against the wall, looking through the window watching him where I know he can’t see me. I just love seeing him on that bike. My phone vibrates. It’s him. A text. “Get your shoes hot stuff.”

Lightning through my spine. I turn to head towards the bedroom to grab my boots, the ones I had pushed in the back that I never thought I’d ever wear again. I open the closet door and see them, they look at me like they’re ready. I then realize, …Juliet. I can’t leave. Shit. Shit shit shit. How do I fix this.

The moment isn’t gone, I just have to change it. Think think.

I know. Simple. I text back one word. “No.” I go to the door, open it, the light shining behind me silhouetting me as I lean against the wall with my arms over my head. I slide down and spring up and walk back inside, leaving the door open. I am grinning ear to ear when I hear the bike turn off. Ha, I win. Bitch.

I hear his footsteps, his keys, the jingling, I used to call him Jingles when I realized I had a crush on him… I swear it sounds the same even though he’s given up all the cars to move here years ago.

He’s coming up the porch stairs, staring me straight in the eyes, like a predator stalking prey. I am weak but I stand and hold back my stare, narrowing my eyes.

I turn just as he comes in as he leans in to hug me. He sighs and I walk into the house, he shuts the door with his foot and places his things down, the motorcycle helmet under his arm. I see in the reflection of the mirror, his hair is a mess, he finger combs it slightly.

“Thanks for coming. So… this is my house…?” I say like it’s a question. He looks around briefly and back at me.

“You just did a lot of cleaning? Smells like bleach.”

I scoff. I lean in and take his helmet and place it on the dining room table. It looks good sitting there.

He leans towards me and sniffs once. “No, it’s not the house, it’s you. Why do you smell like bleach?”

“I was…dirty.” I smile.

He doesn’t look like he’s intrigued, what did I do.

“You…used bleach on yourself?” he asks without blinking.

“I uh… yes. It was a big mess I had to.. handle. I wanted to make sure I didn’t have any on me.”

“What mess.”

“Aren’t you going to say hi and tell me how skinny I am?”

“You are skinny. Hi. Don’t fucking use bleach on yourself. Are you okay? Let’s sit down, please. Tell me what happened.”

I sigh. This isn’t the sweeping off my feet I wanted. I sit down on the couch near him and say nothing. He waits. I stay quiet. He finally says, “So…it’s over? What happened? Where is she now?”

“No questions before drinks. That’s rude. What would you like?”

“Just a beer is fine.”

“Oh come on, let’s have some fun. Want some shots?” I smile and dart to the kitchen. He sighs and slowly stands up and follows me like he’s holding a grudge.

I don’t wait for his response, I simply pour us both a shot of Crown.

We both take a shot.

He clears his throat and says, “Ok, we both had a drink. Talk to me. It’s over?”

“Yes. It’s over.”

“What happened?” he says, his eyes searching my face, trying to read me. His eyebrows are focused, his gaze is a blur of love and questions. I pour more shots.

“Another drink for another question. Keep up.” I hand it to him, he twists his mouth.

“Luc.”

“Diego…” I smile.

“Come on.” He tilts his head and stares at the ceiling.

“Drink and I’ll talk.” I say as I take the shot. He throws it back and holds the shot glass in both of his hands.

“Okay. What the fuck happened, you lunatic.”

“She fell out of love with me Diego. I tried to win her back, but nothing I did, was enough. Work did not help the problems, I made small progress with us and then I’d backpedal 13 steps every day I worked late. I thought pushing faster, to get through this launch, would open our world for uninterrupted bliss. But instead, I caged her in wait. She fell out of love in my absence.”

“You can’t work through it? What about marriage counseling? You’re done with that project now, you have time to rebuild. Or do you just, not want to?”

I fill another set of shots.

We both drink.

“Yes the project is done. But the damage is done as well. Irreversible.”

“You say that, but I know you. You’re making it bigger than it is. I’m sure you can work through it, you two have a kid man. I don’t want you to, regret…”

“She’s….not…Nevermind. Ah. It’s over. Now, I have Juliet, and I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do. Without Aria... I can’t be a single dad, I just can’t do this.”

“She gave you custody?”

“It was…given to me, you could say.”

“Maybe you just need some distance? Maybe it will get better.”

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© 2026 Sasha Falconi / Luciano Falconi (FeralFalconi). All rights reserved. All artwork, writing, audio, and visual media posted here are original works and protected by copyright law.

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