Lines [English]

CHAPTER ONE

Her breathing is raged when her violin string was cut while she was moving the tuning peg. Untangling her grip from the instrument, she slapped her forehead dramatically, and lied down her bed--forgetting about the hairdo that has been done perfectly by the stylists, about twenty five minutes ago.

'Oh darn, why now?' She bit her fingernails and lazily climbed out of bed to fish at her compartment for the stock of E strings.

And there she heard that someone's knocking from the outside.

"Ivonne?" It was a familiar faint sound. Her mom's sweet, soft voice. She sighed and opened the door.

Ivonne Quissel Avery smiled fondly at her mother and straightened her silt skirt. But as soon as she saw her expression, she realized that she was about to give her another bad news she wouldn't like. And so, she fidgeted.

'Please, not again this time..please..'

She sat on her bed and her mom followed, as if confused and undecided whether to tell her the catch.

"You see, sweetie." She started and played with her fingers "Your sister's graduation is at 1:00 pm, and--"

"And, My recital's up at 10:00 am which is 30 minutes from now, and we need to go, so you would be able to make it to Laguna as soon as the graduation event's about to start, ayt?" She said nonchalantly while fixing her messed up hair.

She stared at her mom for a moment, waiting for her answer and brought her gaze back to the violin and the strings. She picked the hard case up from the floor and placed her instrument as fast as she could. "And we better get going."

Her mom gave her a cooing expression. "I-I wish we could, but your dad had an emergency meeting and I need to pick him up at Makati at 11:30, I--I'm sorry, we're sorry." And her voice almost broke.

"You are not coming?" She managed to say as soft as she could. Words were utterly coming out from her mouth and she could barely speak.

Who could blame her? She has been practicing her Concerto piece since last month and she hoped that her parents would not miss it for the world, so she struggled to memorize the piece as early as she could.

"Alright, it has been this way since then. I am used to performing for myself." She stood up her bed.

"And you sure could do well, good luck. And we are very sorry.."

"You better be." She said sternly and picked up her coat. Her cold eyes were staring back at her mom's apologetic ones. She could see a trace of pain from them. But she cared less.

"Oh, Ivonne, dear.. you still have a recital next month that--"

"That you would obviously be missing as well." She brushed the tendrils off her face, and sniffed. She is in tears, before she could even notice.

"Goodbye and have a safe trip." She stormed out of the room, not bothered about forgetting to give her mom a peck on the cheek.

As she stepped onto her wedge, she thought. 'How many times do I need to get through this?'

She laughed bitterly and headed to her car.

What would she expect her parents to choose between a college graduation and a stupid violin recital? Silly.

But the thing is, she has been preparing for this forever. And now it just went directly to the trash bin where her parents think it might have belonged.

She shrugged her thoughts off and tried to brush out her negative thinkings. But she just can't.

'Well, I should understand. That was what I was born for. They said they would be able to make it next time.'

And that is where she starts her official monologue.

When she remembered that her parents didn't make it to her first recital, wherein her fingers were bereft of squeezing, her arms were too shaky because of the absence of patting, and her cheeks flushed because no one was proud of her while watching. Nobody even hugged her after she played or even told her she did great. No one.

'Wait, who am I fooling? That was just the same with saying they chose Claireese fucking Van Avery over me, the looser. And here's to what they're good at. Breaking promises.'

And what hurts the most is that, over four times of having recitals in her whole life, she has expected them to come even for once which never happened. The funniest idea is that she's still counting on the long run, hoping that they will make it on her next performance.

As soon as she had an apt time for crying her heart out to its content, she planted an encouraging smile on her crumpled face, while deliriously starting off the engine.

"Excuse me," she managed to say politely while holding her shoulder bag and aviator on her left hand, the instrument's hard case on the other, while struggling to make it all throughout the backstage for her briefings--in one whole piece.

The auditorium was packed. A strand of thread or two couldn't even go through it. Well yes, A bit of exaggeration, tho. But the description is pretty close. And this has been way too much for her.

She looked around and heaved out a sigh as soon as she realized that she was supposed to take her seat in front because the others are waiting while holding their bows and violins, and their parents were wishing for luck, or taking pictures with them. And they were almost fifty metres away from her very spot.

"Great. I didn't even get to attend even a half time of the fucking briefing,"

Rehearsals and briefings were a must. Since she missed both, It's given that she would look stupid not knowing whether to curtsy before she plays or after. Or she would either fidget while playing, because nobody would cheer for her and their instructor must have said something during their briefing, or she just might have to get her butt off this place immediately because they were not here. Her parents, the ever-supportive ones.

Yes, they are people whom she was trying to impress over time, all her whole life. But never took time to notice her even for once. Cliché as it may seem, but that's her life. Nothing too special.

Anyway, she needed to admit to herself that it wasn't because of the crowded venue or the chase for the front seat, the unnecessary noises and the involuntary small talks why she was feeling the whole crankiness even within the tips of her fiber and the midst of her bone marrows.

It was because she was almost the only the live showcase perpetrator without even, just an intimate companion.

"Damn this life," she cursed under her breath.

People were almost bumping onto each other. And that succored her to the reality. She immediately rushed in front and sat on the reserved chair.