Face The Music

Beside You

The roller coaster of emotions was finally over. Throughout the concert, each song had had a different feel to it, and I was keenly tuned in to every single one. Happy songs made me dance in my seat and sad ones made me rock back and forth with empathy and understanding for the poor fellow.

But the concert had ended. I was still too dazed from the music to think about what I had witnessed. Instead, I just sat there, wide-eyed, unmoving. After an hour or so, my mind came back to itself, and I stood up to leave. At the exit, the guard stopped me.

"Can I see your ticket?" He asked gruffly.

"Uh...yeah, sure. Hold on a sec," I replied as I reached into my pocket. I pulled out the slightly crumpled ticket and handed it to him.

He examined it for a second and then, scratching his head, he told me, "You, uh, have a meet and greet ticket. Come with me."

Geez, front row seats, and now a meet and greet? Aunt Lynn, what are you trying to do here?

I let him lead me down a hallway to a pair of double-doors, where he told me to wait. A minute or two passed, and after listening to his earpiece, he motioned for me to go in.

I felt a sense of trepidation as I tiptoed to the doors with caution. I took one second and looked back at the guard, perhaps for reassurance. I didn't know what was going to happen.

The guard looked at me weirdly. "...Go in."

"Right. Ha." I opened one of the doors and slipped into the room.

Inside the faintly lit room, there were two couches and a big blue rug. It was a beautiful shade of blue, a mixture of indigo, violet, and black. It reminded me of the color of the sky before dusk. I stared at the rug for several minutes, not saying a word.

In the white noise of the background, I heard someone clear his throat. "Hello."

My gaze shot up from the floor, and I could feel my face burning. Hopefully, the shadows would hide the look of embarrassment on my face. I had forgotten I wasn't alone. "Sorry, I got distracted. Um...hi."

The guy who had spoken was the lead singer. "I'm sorry the others aren't here," he told me. "It's late, and I told them to get some rest. We've been on the road awhile now."

"Yeah, of course..." I trailed off. I didn't know what to say.

"So...how did you like the show? I saw you in the front row," he winked again.

My hesitation vanished. "Oh, it was absolutely beautiful. Your voice, the melody, the harmony. I'm such a sucker for harmony. I loved it. Thank you."

He looked surprised. "Thank me for what?"

"For letting me listen to your music," I said simply.

"You're welcome." He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "You're Kiera Clarke, aren't you?"

"I...yes, I am," I answered, taken aback by this sudden statement.

"I remember you. You were a piano prodigy, four or five years ago. I was 16 or 17, and I grew up in a musical household, and I always heard about you. I think I went to see you play, once. It was beautiful."

"Thanks. But that was a long time ago," I replied.

"I haven't heard about you in a while. What happened?"

"I, uh, I don't play anymore," I told him, hesitant.

"Oh."

"Yeah." I looked back down at that beautiful rug, twisting my hands. I didn't know what to do with them.