To Eternity and Back

Chapter 3

My head jerked sideways as my mother's hand slapped me across the face with full force, leaving a red bruise on my left cheek and having the walls reverberate the noise throughout my waiting room.

The pain quickly came but just as quickly numbed. Since I've undergone pain by my mother before, I already prepared myself for it. Just stand still, don't utter a word, and listen as my mother tells me once again what a worthless failure I am.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she blared. "Going to a mall with only a few minutes away from your recital to begin? Ridiculous! Not only that, you could've used that time to practice your violin instead!"

Her hand didn't strike my face this time but on my head. I could feel another bruise forming on my forehead; it's a good thing I have bangs to cover it up.

"Forgive me, mother," I apologized. "I... I wasn't thinking–"

"That's right, you weren't thinking. You never do."

I lowered my head at her words and squeezed my eyes shut to prevent my mother from seeing the pain in them.

A perfect man doesn't show emotions for it is weakness. A perfect man keeps them at bay and stays strong. A perfect man doesn't let his feelings get in the way of his future and success.

So get it together.

I don't know what my past self was thinking, because I should've cared about my mother's anger.

A good son isn't supposed to make their mother angry, they're supposed to make them proud.

But that's not what I'm doing. Useless.

"Kazuki, why are you staying quiet? You're not seriously letting this go, are you? Your son was being irresponsible and foolish, which I thought were qualities you hated."

My mother's anger was then directed at the man sitting on the couch not far away from us, dressed in an all black suit with matching black gloves. Yet, my father continued to play with the small and worn out gold coin in his fingers, looking almost bored. My mother scowled at her own husband and opened her mouth to yell again before my father finally spoke up.

"Let it go, Aoi. He's here now. Don't make such a fuss."

My father's cold tone made my mother hesitate but she looked like she still wasn't ready to let this slide.

Thinking a fight would break out, I bowed down 90 degrees and said loudly, "I deeply apologize and I swear I won't do this ever again."

I couldn't see my mother's face but I can only pray that this is enough to quell her anger. I stayed in the 90 degree bow for at least 5 minutes before I heard my mother huff irritatedly and left the room, slamming the door behind her. I sighed in relief and straightened my back before I turned my head to my father.

"Thank you." I smiled.

He furrowed his eyebrows at me before he got up from the couch. He straightened his suit jacket and walked toward the door, but just before he opened the door, he looked back at me with a blank yet cold stare. "Make sure not to repeat this mistake again, or I won't bother stopping your mother the next time."

And with that, he left.

I know his last words were a warning to me, but I still felt thankful to him. If my father wasn't there, I don't know what would've happened. It's always at the unexpected times that he's there for me, despite his cold shoulder. If only he was there for me in my earlier years...

I shook my head to ward off the negative thoughts and sat down in front of the vanity table with the industrial-inspired mirror. I started to inspect my bruised left cheek and contemplated putting a bandage to cover it up before a short haired woman entered with a makeup bag.

I blinked in confusion as the woman placed the bag on the table and smiled at me.

"Sorry for the interruption," she said. "But your mother sent me." She then pointed at her pink left cheek. "To cover up your bruise."

... Oh.

Right, my mother wouldn't want anyone thinking she abuses her own son. Of course, she always manages to turn it around and say she's just educating me. I wonder if any other mothers educate their child like she does with me.

After a while, the woman finished applying just enough foundation and concealer on my face to make it seem like nothing ever happened. Like the bruise on my cheek and forehead were never there. I moved my hand to touch my face before the makeup artist stopped me. "You'll ruin it if you touch it," she told me before she put everything in her bag and left.

I looked at my seemingly perfect face and shone a smile towards myself. However, it looked fake to me and if my smile looks like this to everyone, they're going to think something is wrong. Maybe if I curve my lips upwards more... no, it still doesn't look genuine.

After a while of practicing and ignoring the pain growing in my cheeks from excessive smiling, I sighed before I leaned back on the chair and gazed at the ticking clock that hanged above the table.

15 minutes till curtain.

I closed my eyes and let my thoughts stray off until suddenly, the image of the woman I met in the mall came back. An immediate red blush appeared on my face and I sat back up. So I still can't forget about her, I think. I did try to forget about her on the way back because I thought she would prove to be a distraction during my concert, but I guess it's easier said than done.

Well, I don't think it's a bad thing, to be honest. In fact, maybe it could be motivation if not a distraction. She could be in the audience, prepared to listen to the orchestra. You never know.

Thinking this could be the perfect way to perform my best, I took in a deep breath, stood up from the chair, and walked to the wardrobe. I put on a well-tailored suit and grabbed my violin out the case before walking out the room. I entered backstage and saw the other black dressed musicians setting up, tuning their instruments on the stage, and talking to each other as they prepared.

Usually, I would strike up a conversation with them to help me calm down and then mentally prepare myself for a few minutes, but I jumped straight to the latter. I need all the time I can get to prepare myself today; besides, I can talk to the others in the after party.

My mother isn't the only one here, but my father and possibly that woman as well.

I am the perfect man and a perfect musician. I am the perfect man and a perfect musician. I am the perfect man and a perfect musician.

I must've repeated that a thousand times before it was finally time for the concert to begin. I fixed the violin in my shoulder and hovered the bow over the strings as the red curtains started to raise up and applause echoed everywhere. I clutched the violin a bit tighter as I saw the crowd all looking at me, waiting for me begin. I paused for a moment before I bit my lower lip to knock me out from my blank state and moved the bow on the violin strings.

Don't mess this up, I scolded to myself as I started to play the first part of the repertoire.

The orchestra joined me a few moments later and soon, an overwhelming symphony of sounds, strings, winds, and percussion blended together in perfect harmony. As time passed, each musician, including myself, became lost in the music and the beauty of the sound we were creating.

The audience became entranced, completely captivated by the experience as the music washed over them. Everyone became absorbed by the music, transported away from the distractions of everyday life and brought into this moment of pure bliss.

And before we all knew it, the concert ended with a flourish.