THE HORRIFYING RECITAL
The seat was cool and my stampede suddenly eased giving me
a feeling of calm and peace. I managed a little smile as I placed my now dry
and steady hands on the black and white keys. Take a deep breath, I told myself, remember what you teacher told you. I pressed down the first key
and a note that was sharp and clear rang and the audience became attentive. I
proceeded in playing the second note with a little more confidence. It too, was
sharp and clear like a glittering crystal. My back eased as I let out a breath
and began playing. Suddenly, something happened that shattered my entire piece.
An ugly note
escaped my fingers and it made sure everyone heard it. I made a mistake, I thought with absolute certainty. My nightmare
came true. However, my breathing was still slow and steady and my heart didn’t
get louder of faster. The butterflies that were supposed to swarm my stomach
were taking a rest. My forehead and fingers were dry instead of sticky with sweat.
How do I fix this mistake? I wondered
in my head aware that the audience hadn’t taken their eyes off of me. I knew
they knew I made a mistake. But the show
must go on, I thought. I couldn’t keep the audience staring at me. In a
spilt second, I did what the only thing that came in my mind. I began from the
beginning, searching for the culprit that wrecked my piece. Again the criminal
note sounded and again the audience heard. Which
hand had it been in? I wondered. Quietly I played with my right hand. There
was no mistake. It’s in my left hand, I
realized while already beginning to play with my left hand. Finally I found the
awful note. However, what was the REAL note. My mind formed a huge
question mark. I started from the beginning again and what seemed like a year,
I finally recalled the real note.
When the correct note sounded I immediately fell in a
world with only the piano and me. There was no more beautiful notes of ugly
notes but only music. I danced in my mind merging as one with music. My fingers
were obeying the music as they danced around the keys like my mind. I smiled in
the sweat world. Slowly I emerged out of the world of music and found myself in
reality as the world thundered back and I took a bow.
My father patted me on the back when I came to sit by him
on the bench. An old woman came up to us and patted my sister and I on our
heads. “Great job,” she said, “I only hope that my grandson can play as well as
you two did.” She looked back at a young boy who was talking with another
child. After a few minutes of chatting with us the woman walked to her grandson
and left. Just then, my piano teacher came over as she finally finished talking
to anther parent. “I am so proud of you two,” she said while smiling. Her eyes
looked distant as she told us a story. “When I was young, I also dreaded
recitals and never wanted to go. In one recital, I played my first note and I made a mistake.
I was so scared that my mind went completely blank and I had no idea what I was
suppose to play!” my teacher said while laughing. She turned to me and told me
that I did a great job handling my mistake.
When we arrived home, my father told me that it was a good
thing that I kept playing my piece because if I didn’t, they would wonder what
was happening and perhaps some people didn’t know I made a mistake at all and
the piece was suppose to be that way. My mother came out from the kitchen and
told me that she was about to ask my sister to hand me my piano book. We all
laughed as we went to the kitchen to have lunch.
The End
Epilogue
She practiced the accordion everyday, perfecting her fingers and her form. She was the best in her class and she would get the most applause in recitals. On day, after her father came home from work, he told her that he would be watching her play in her next recital. Her father never had time to watch her and she wanted to make everything perfect. She practiced harder and each night would hum the piece before she slept and she would also have nightmares about forgetting her piece.The day of the recital arrived and the accordionist's father drove her to the stage where she would be performing, all the while whistling a cheerful tune. The accordionist was still practicing, getting more nervous with each passing minute. Finally, they arrived at their destination and her father wished he luck. When it was the girl's turn, she reluctantly walked onstage. She took a deep breath and caught her father's gaze. Her mind became blank. No notes came out correctly as if she did not spend time on her piece at all. On the way home, her father did not look at her or talk to her and after that day, he never went and watched her daughter play in fear of scaring her.
No comments:
Post a Comment