Broken Melody

My hands moved through the keys of the piano. I pictured birds chirping as if they are greeting the golden afternoon sun.

"Hey, Bob, how's that?" I asked.

"Sounds good as usual." he said.

Bob sat at the corner of the music room, enjoying the energetic rhythm of Canon. The shadows of the curtain covered half of his face but it seems like the sun is not eager to lose.

"What if one day we had to separate?" Bob suddenly asked.

My fingers stopped.

"I guess I won't be able to imagine that."

It's just not possible. Bob was more like a brother to me. Our families are very close and we did everything together since we were young. Both of us knew we had each other by our sides. We even promised not to have any hard feelings towards whichever one of us who got into a better university in the future.

"Let's get going," I said as I tried to change the atmosphere, "The basketball club is packing up."

The sun starts to set as Bob and I walked through the road beside the hill back home. The rhythm of Canon stayed in my head, accompanying me as I walk.

"Oh yeah," Bob took out a sheet of paper from his bag, "here."

"What's this?" I asked as I scan through the paper.

"Ms. Chen wants me to give you this, she thinks you should attend the children's division in piano." Bob explained.

"Do you think I should go? It's in Tokyo, the ride is going to cost a ton."

"Think about it, it might be a good opportunity. I mean at least I think you have the talent." Bob said, turning his head away from me.

I smiled. We stopped at the intersection and turned away from each other.

"See you tomorrow." I called.

Bob waved. "See ya."

After a few days, Bob left me. It was all so sudden. I walked into the classroom that day. His seat was empty. He's usually earlier than me though. I thought. Maybe he's just sick. But he didn't show up the next day. Nor the day after that.

I cried. I used up all the tissues in the house. I let my hurt and anger control my body. I smacked my hands onto the piano. I continued to play. I didn't stop. I went all out with my energy. I pressed hardly onto the keys as I play. My hands ached. Then, as if I had been waiting for this, my anger turned into tears again.

I decided to try the middle school's division in piano after my music teacher, Ms. Chen gave me an one hour talk on how my skills are "great" and how I'll definitely do well. Ok, I know I'm exaggerating a bit.

I didn't realize. Something was wrong with my fingers. I couldn't play the piano anymore. Not that I forgot how to play, but the music doesn't sound quite right. I was frustrated and scared at the same time.

I soon felt pressured for the piano contest as time rushed by. I felt like I could hear the sound of the clock ticking every millisecond, reminding me of my imperfect skills. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The wind often visited me when I decided to take a walk down at the school garden. It seems to ask, The piano...have you perfected it yet?

I woke up, it was the morning of the big day. I had to take the High Speed Rail to Tokyo, it was a long ride. The moment I got into the auditorium, I had been put into a small room. There was no one there. I was getting really nervous now.

"Aki?" I heard a voice calling my name but there was no one in the room.

"Um...yes?"

"I'm Bob." the voice in my head said.

"Wait...why are you here?" I was confused by myself.

"Never mind about that, I'm just here to tell you that you should play the piece with happiness. I felt like these days you played like you are forced to do so."

"But-" I started, but a person knocked the door and called me to prepare.

I stood on the stage, took a bow and sat down on the piano. By the time I was playing the second page of Canon, I was already sweating. I knew I wasn't doing well. Just then, my brain reminded me of what Bob said, Play the piece softly...

Suddenly as if magic, my fingers moved fluently across the piano. I finally knew what Bob meant. I was playing the piano with anger and sadness that I forgot the most important key to piano which in order to play the piece softly, I should play with a mood opposite of anger and sadness. I ended the piece smoothly. I didn't care if I passed or not. I bowed and ran out of the stadium.

"Thanks, Bob." I whispered. 

Four years later, I stood in front of Bob's grave. As I bent down to put the flowers on the ground, I noticed the date of his death. It was a week after he disappeared in middle school. I turned away and walked down the small road. Tears dropped down from my eyes. But I smiled.