The Spirit of Music

Final Movement

It was several more weeks until I was sure I had the piece remembered completely and perfectly. I had told Mr. Stanton that tonight was the night I was going to play, and he wished me good luck before I went back to my house. I got some sleep before I would begin playing, because after all, 2:30 is an early time to be playing piano. Hopefully my neighbors wouldn't mind...

I woke up at 1:30 to prepare by making some tea, getting the music book ready, and probably practice for a while before actually playing at 2:30. When it hit 2:10, I knew for sure I was ready to play. Whoever wanted me to play this piece wasn't going to be disappointed. I made myself another cup of tea to pass the time, but as the minute slowly arrived, I became increasingly nervous that I would mess up somehow.

2:15. I could feel my palms start to sweat and my heart begin to pick up pace. I looked over the pages of music, as if I might have missed something I had never seen before even though I knew it note for note. I tried to take some deep breaths to calm my nerves. It didn't quite work the way I intended.

2:20. My leg started to bounce up and down, and I started to wring my hands. I felt as if I was about to play for a concert hall full of people, but the contrast of the dead silent night outside my windows only helped feed my paranoia. My hands were shaking so bad that I had to put my cup of tea down before I spilled it on myself.

2:25. Both of my legs were bouncing now, and it became a big problem just trying to calm myself down. I was worried, not only for the playing of the piece itself, but if I could calm down in time.

2:29. A sudden calm wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a winter's day. My fingers hovered over the keys of the piano where the first notes would be played. My eyes drifted up to the music book, and I only had one thought. Play.

2:30. As soon as I pressed down on the piano keys and my eyes ran across the sheet music, I realized now that something sounded different. I looked down to find keys were being pressed, but I wasn't the one pressing them. I stopped playing out of shock that this ghost was playing along with me, but as soon as I stopped the ghost stopped too. With that, the music book slowly fluttered closed, and I was left with my mouth agape at the piano keys. A few seconds later, I buried my eyes into my palms and thought that I had just disappointed whoever was behind this music book. Just as tears were about to come out of my eyes, I felt a hand on my shoulder to comfort me. Despite this, I didn't feel a need to look over. I already knew it was the ghost. With this feeling of comfort placed in me, I sat back up, and the hand disappeared. For the next ten minutes I sat on the bench in silence, first looking at the keys, then the book, before getting up and going back to bed. I would have to try again later.

The next time I visited the shop, I told Mr. Stanton what had happened.

"They started playing with you?" He blurted as his eyes widened as large as I had seen them. I smiled at his surprised countenance.

"Yeah, just out of nowhere, the keys started playing on their own. I don't know how else to describe it." I saw his face go from shocked to confused, before he looked down as though he were pondering a question.

"That makes sense. I had said it was part of a larger piece, after all." He looked at me with a shocked, but resolved smile. "It requires two people to play." I looked at him dumbfounded. It didn't even occur to me that this was what was happening, yet now that he said it, everything made sense, as if all the puzzle pieces just fell into place.

"You're right. I have the bass clef, and they have the treble. It makes so much more sense now." I said as Mr. Stanton chuckled and practically hopped around with childlike glee.

"This is amazing! You'll have to tell me what happens when you complete the piece though, this is absolutely splendid!" Mr. Stanton practically shouted.

"Of course. How could I forget to tell you?"

A couple night later I went through the same routine. Wake up an hour early, make some tea, and practice the piece. This was going to be the night I was going to play through the work fully. I practiced extra hard, right up until I had to play the piece. I was ready.

At 2:30, I started to play, and just like last time, the keys around my hands started to play along with me. I didn't stop this time, not for that. The more I played, the more I noticed something, and I thought that my eyes were playing tricks on me or maybe my sleepy mind was making stuff up. But then I really saw it. The hands. I could see the hands beginning to materialize in front of my eyes where the keys were being pressed. I got so focused on the hands that I lost track of where I was in the music and messed up, and just like before, the playing stopped and the book gently closed. I failed again. This time, though, I didn't feel so bad, as I knew that I had another night to do what I had practiced so hard to do. And that's exactly what I did.

Several days after the second failure, I found myself on the piano bench in front of the keys. The clock struck 2:30, and we began playing. This time, I wasn't going to stop for anything, I was prepared for what would happen. Before much time had passed, we had moved through the first movement, and whoever was sat beside me was slowly becoming more visible. The second movement started, and the notes began flying past my eyes, through my fingers, and into the air in a lovely combination of harmony and melody. Before I even had time to register what was happening, the second, third, and fourth movements were done, and we had moved on to the fifth and final movement. The ghost was now almost completely visible, but I didn't dare look too long or try and look beside me, because it might turn out just like last time I tried that. A few minutes in the final movement, a grin was forming on my face as I heard every single note get put together in a perfect melodious mix that made all that time I had spent on this song worth it. Then, just like that, it was over. We had reached the end of the sheet music, and I looked at both sets of hands to see them hovered over the keys, waiting for something to happen. I pulled my hands away from the piano, and the other pair did the same. After a few seconds of thinking, I turned to face who was sat beside me.

I saw the face of a young woman, 20 years old at most. She had a petite figure, with a short nose and freckles that speckled across the bridge of her nose. She was wearing a simple, white, sleeveless gown that went just above her knees. Her hair was short and curly, just above her shoulders.

And her smile. It was the happiest smile I had ever seen in my life, as if this was the one thing she had ever wanted to do, and now she had done it. Her green eyes were just as bright as her smile, and I could see that behind those eyes was the long awaited goal she had. Now it was complete, and the spirit and brightness behind those eyes shimmered and grew with each passing second. She had done it.

We had done it. Together.

We hugged each other, happy yet sad that this journey we had gone on was now complete. Bittersweet, like the ending to an excellent story where you just want it to go on a little longer, even though you had been reading it for months on end. We were there for a long time before I slowly felt her fade away, until I was left sitting there with nothing. No one was left seated next to me, but I was glad. She had finally moved on, I could feel it.

The next day I went into the piano shop to tell Mr. Stanton the news. He could hardly contain his excitement.

"You were able to see her in the end? Oh, what a great finish, just like a storybook!" He cheered. "And to think that she was able to move on from it, you were the one who did it, I'm so proud of you!" He praised me as he held my hand and shook it like he was meeting a celebrity.

"You taught me everything I know, so I can't take all the credit. She should thank you too." I said as Mr. Stanton chuckled.

"That's my job, though. You could have easily thrown the book out too, or done something to get rid of it, but you didn't. You kept fighting for the finish she wanted, and you got it for her. I wish I could have heard it though, it must have sounded spectacular." After he said that, the big stage grand piano plunked out a couple quick notes, ones I recognized instantly. We both spun our heads around to look at the piano, before I turned back to him.

"Well, it looks like she's willing to give you a performance." I told him. Mr. Stanton looked at me with awe and amusement in his eyes.

"Now, the work does require two players if I remember right. Will you be willing to play the piece along with her?"

"Without a doubt." I said, smiling as I walked over to the piano to take a seat and play this song one last time.