The Performance

I rose with my feet frozen, body stiffened, to face the cheering crowd ahead in the shadows, where above projected at me a slim stream of light.

My heart hammered vigorously, dazzling my mind.

Under the earnest applause from the crowd, I collected my every last effort, and bowed an uneasy bow.



****



The moment I kicked the door shut, the room was only barely visible with the sunlight which gawked through the bulky curtains. With the aid of the dead silence, the entire house appeared to be drowned in hollowness. There was for certain not one single soul, save myself, as not even the slightest sign of human presented.

Fortunate it could be, that nobody was home, as I needed to be alone; unfortunate it should also be, that nobody was around for guidance.

There occupied no space for these thoughts to dwell inside my brain, for it was already over-packed.

Undoing my shoes apace and fiercely, I slid myself onto the stool to the left by pivoting transitionally on the piano.

Have I screwed up? Have I messed it up, entirely? What have I done wrong? Is it just a mistake by accident, by carelessness? My thoughts ran through me as if they were my blood washing my veins, only that it was blasting a hole to my heart.

I flung open the keyboard-cover of the piano, which bounced back with an annoying wooden sound and ambushed the back of my hand as a punishment. I let the pain desensitize my thoughts, and steadied the cover with a little more care.

I wanted to scream, to smash everything in sight; but I also knew that I needed to think things through. Things were just happening too fast, too undesirably surprisingly, which was greater than what I could take.

Shutting my eyes and leaning to the back where a dinning-table braced my back, I allowed my thoughts to burst out of my head, to every corner of this room, into pieces that could not be further unbound, so that I could study my every thought.

She left. Without a word, Iris left.

To all of her friends, even a few of her foes, she kissed her goodbyes away. Was I not enough to be one of her friends? Was I not worth her farewell, even I had done, with respect, a lot more than most of her friends?

She had known me, she must have remembered me. There persisted not a possibility for her to forget me; or was there?

Iris had left this town, this region, where the destination and reasons had yet not reached me, nor were they intended to. She had spent, as I had been informed, a week during the summer with her friends, talking, chatting, all that might have explained why she left, all that might have resolved why I was the only one left unnoticed. She had even prepared farewell-gifts to all, and mine was delivered today from her best friend.

It was a snow-white envelope, which was considered an exquisite art until I tore it apart with a reckless rage. Inside were a letter, a plastic card and a wrapped memo.

The letter was short, and even without other for comparison, it could easily be one of the shortest she’d written:



Nyek,

Father picked up a 15-min gap between performances in the Great Hall of NY and had reserved it. Card’s for identification. Details are enclosed in the memo. Take the chance.

Lucks,

Irisz.



What she left me with was an opportunity to perform a piano-music, which was obviously her father’s doing. It was nearly assured that it cost not, as she told me this happened all the time when she still had not left me with, actually, only a slap in the face.

I was determined not to perform.

I had always chatted with her, slipped her with those tiny heart-shaped notes, and recalled not a time refusing when she signaled for help, but only rendering my helping hands when she was too over-considerate to bother her companions.

Sweeping away all the selflessness in me, I still found it ludicrous, absurd, that she forsook her home, her school and her friends this way. The shock and pain could for certain consume the entire me for weeks, if not months.

The room now was intensively overcharged with my damaging thoughts, and was again lusting for a burst.

Drifting my soul out of my body, and observing comprehensively, I learnt only one reason behind --- I was a burden to her, and she did not feel for me at all. I was yet another idiot knocking on her sock-still mind when she wanted not to answer.

She was a coward: she dared not talk to me; she dared not look me in the eye and order me to leave her alone.

As if a penalty to a lie, all the bulky thoughts squeezed right back into my mind, blowing it up until it could withstand no more. A flaming pain choked my lung and throat, and I could hardly breathe. I snapped open my eyes, jerked upright with a stiffened spine and bellowed to the sky high above, ‘Why!’

The voice echoed fragilely, yet it was a good few seconds before silence returned.

My mind was racing, lungs struggling for breath. And I heard a voice.

I. Heard. A. Voice.

Instantly and instinctively, I recognized the soft, innocent, musical voice --- Iris's voice.

It began almost soundlessly, while I felt an invisible icy hand wrapped around my forehead, and glided down my face which tenderly closed my eyes.

The voice paused for a moment, then returned in a scarcely-louder tone.

I listened hard. I had never heard her crooning like this  before; it was a beautiful and outstanding lullaby, a masterpiece of masterpieces.

All the thoughts in my veins vanished, had me vacuumed, but was replenished by music.

I could not afford to lose one note, one moment of this masterpiece.

My fingers charged and came to life. They hopped at the piano keyboard ahead, and found their ways to different notes, as if they had lives of their own. The voice in my head was still singing while my hands paid the very least effort to record it, and the rest to add my own accompaniments. I watched, eyes wide-opened, at how my fingers were magically hitting the notes so accurately, so beautifully with such an inhumanly-composed melody. Not even a wild dream, nor a hallucination, could furnish me with such inspiration.

Amazed I was, sitting there for fifteen minutes.

The lullaby ended classically in a harmonious chord, yet resulting in an effect by far more charming than any other closings.

This was her reply. I felt it. I felt sure of it. And most importantly, I understood it.

I resented no more.

At the very moment now, I was determined to perform.

Her reply in assistance with that angel’s voice must be reiterated to the world. Should I refuse this opportunity, it then would be a crime.

         

*********



My fingers were battered, exhausted, yet was strengthened by all kinds of magical forces around. All I did was sit and my fingers nailed the rest.

When the final enchanting chord traced away to the entire Great Hall, I withdrew my hands as steadily as I could, though inside I was shaking and screaming.

After a moment of silence when everyone was wondering how a nervous little kid could compose and perform such an enchanting piece of mighty music, all at once a flood of applause erupted all around the circular stage I was at, which forced my sight down to the well-polished wooden floor.

I rose with my feet frozen, body stiffened, to face the cheering crowd ahead in the shadows, where above projected at me a slim stream of light.

My heart hammered vigorously, dazzling my mind.

Under the earnest applause from the crowd, I collected my every last effort, and bowed an uneasy bow.

As I stood upright again, a sparkling spot caught me at the utmost corner of my right eye. At once, the weariness of my fingers faded away.

I dragged my head in a stimulated force that hurt my neck, and trailed the sparkle, rolling my eyes up and down, left and right. Eventually I locked on that spot, which shone under the shadow.

There came a blasting force that paralyzed my body, yet not my mind, which raced and raced, not comprehending what was happening.

My jaws clenched; heartbeat halted and bolted; head fainting; No, there was nothing happening, but merely one tiny thing to be noticed.

There, at the front row, sat Iris.

Her hair was as long and smooth as I had last seen her, and wearing her favourite dazzling red skirt. The regular-smile had not yet faded, but right now it was harsh, though true. Her eyes were reflecting the barely-visible light, and under the tears she fought to hold found the small bloodshot eye.

She came, finally, for either the performance, or me.

Had she heard her own reply?