Strings of Life

My fingers pulled on the strings as I slowly started to close my eyes. The glistening sound filled the room as I kept weaving my arms back and forth on the instrument. Every note was perfect, and every timed I pulled the strings, I knew I was giving it my best performance. I had to. This was it for me.

Everything I did in my life lead up to this moment: my audition to Juilliard. My fingers kept threading through the strings of my harp as I played for the three people in the room who would decide my fate. I had blocked them out, as I kept my eyes closed, concentrating on every note.

"Thank you, that is all," the man said, cutting me off.

My eyes peeled open as my fingers froze. Everyone's lips were in a straight line, giving no indication of what they were thinking. All they did was stare down at their papers that they were grading me on as their pencils scribbled at different angles.

I stood up and bowed my head as someone opened the door. I turned around to see the young college student—who had helped led me into the audition—standing there. My hands carefully grabbed the frame of my harp as I pulled it out of the room, pushed it out the door, and followed her out.

Like everyone here, she was dressed in a simple black dress. Everyone seemed to have worn the exact same thing. The guys who auditioned wore a simple tux of some sort, or at least they'd wear a polo or button down. Girls usually wore a black dress of some sort. It was good practice as many orchestras would have everyone wearing either a tux or black skirt/dress.

Not that attire matters, but I made sure I wore my best floor length dress and pearl necklace. I'm sure my playing would outshine the dress, but one can never be too careful. It was almost a given I was going to make it into Juilliard anyways. The people back home always told me how well I played. Even my teachers praised me how I would be playing at the Sidney Opera someday with my hard work ethics and determination.

Nothing was going to stand in my way. Even as the college student lead me into the room where my dad was in, I could see the dozens of high schoolers who were also auditioning with their harps ready. They may have tried tuning them, and going over what they had, but they'd never be at the same caliber I was on.

My dad didn't say anything as he walked over towards me. I stopped as the took the cover for my harp and helped me slide it over the gigantic instrument. Eventually, he took over, and I watched as he zipped it up and started to push it out of the room.

I know most parents would be bombarding their children with questions when a big milestone like this happens, but not my dad. That was fine. I just walked beside him as I pulled my winter jacket on, memorizing the performance I had just given.

Every note was perfect. There wasn't anything else I could've done. I know I played with so much emotion, that the people judging me were probably holding back tears.

All I had to do was wait.

By the time we walked outside Juilliard, there was a young man playing the violin. I rolled my eyes almost immediately as I saw him. His brown unruly hair was pulled back in one of those "man buns" while he had scruff growing over his face. If he really thought he had a chance of ever enrolling in school here, or even just auditioning, he was a lost cause.

He placed the bow onto strings and closed his eyes as he leaned back onto the glass windows. I nearly wanted to scream at him. Of all things, he shouldn't be leaning on the polished windows of the best school of the arts known to man kind.

The young man began to play his violin, and as he did, my dad stopped to listened. I groaned in protest as I was forced to watch and listen to this guy play.