December 2018
Worcester, MA, USA
Once I invite Sylvia to join me in the loft, I wait for her without a word. She glances up the stairs, waiting with her hand upon the railing. Almost as though she's fighting with herself over whether she should meet me.
It is imperative that she makes the choice. Not me.
"Are you sure I'm allowed up there?" she asks from the bottom step.
"Yes, Sylvia. Come to me."
As she slowly ascends, I take several steps back until we're standing three feet apart like her faith demands. There my muse stands. Right there in front of me. Yet I can hardly speak, my mind swirling with a thousand synchronous thoughts, every single one about her. A thousand confessions chained upon my tongue. A thousand kisses threatening to break free.
All hidden away for her sake.
Good God! I can't believe you're here...
Her hazel gaze pierces right through me, all the way to my soul. To the very essence of me. To the deepest, most sacred place where I've kept my feelings for her locked up for all these years. Even away from myself.
Under the power of her gaze, it's like she's burst open the lid of Pandora's Box, allowing all my emotions to break free. Though I don't possess a religious bone in my body, this moment feels timeless. Almost holy.
My name slips past her lips like a solemn prayer. "Ian..."
"Sylvia..."
"Your music is beautiful," she says in a gentle tone that melts my icy heart. "As always."
"Thank you." An awkward moment of silence falls between us before I gesture toward the organ. "Would you care to accompany me?"
"Here?" Her gaze sweeps over the empty loft. "Now?"
"For old times' sake?"
"Can we do that? In church?"
A soft chuckle slips past my lips. "I rather think God appreciates some different tunes."
Sylvia takes little pixie steps while I lead her toward the organ bench. A million romantic memories flood my mind when I invite her to sit beside me.
"Any requests?" I ask.
Tell me what you need, little raven...
"The Phantom of the Opera," Sylvia says in a determined voice before adding, "Remember when you would sing the phantom's lines?"
When I turn to her, our gazes meet once more. You impish little raven! I know why you've chosen that song...And you dare ask for it in church?
Damn near blasphemous.
Interesting...you've become bolder. And I like it.
No, I love it...I admire it. And I crave everything you have to give.
Not only is that song her favorite organ piece, but it holds special meaning for us. An intimate meaning not many would guess. Charged with electric energy, the tiny amount of empty space crackles between us like the air before a summer storm.
Sylvia's gaze darts to my lips before her gaze meets mine.
Not yet, my muse...
Allow me to set your soul aflame.
Once it is time for the phantom to sing, I tap into that part of myself that remains dormant. Hidden. Caged away from the world, except for her.
"Sing once again with me," I sing with all my strength, "our strange duet."
YOU ARE READING
Don't Look Back
Lãng mạnONC 2024: In college, it was a case of wrong place/wrong time. Eight years later, they have a second chance. But will they take the leap? ___ Prompt 14: "My muse, believe me, waiting for you has been a form of freedom." ___ Excerpt: "Don't look bac...
