❝𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒔 𝒒𝒖𝒐?❞
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Rachelle Anderson moved to Massachusetts for two reasons: to pursue her dream of being a cellist and to pursue her childhood friend, Leon Taylor.
Rachelle and Leon had been fri...
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A week passed since then and I hadn't seen Leon because we were both occupied with our commitments. He left me texts very often and we were still caught up with everything that was going on in each other's life.
Resting against the armchair, I was just scrolling through my phone when it chimed, and a notification floated on the top. Seeing a familiar name, a wide smile spread across and I tapped enthusiastically on the lit screen to reply.
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L: What are you doing tonight?
R: Charity recital.
L: I'm sure you look stunning tonight. All the best, Rae.
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Looking up ahead at the mirror in front of me, I adjusted the strap of my black dress. Even when I had been rehearsing for this performance, I couldn't help but feel nervous. I wonder if this feeling would stay with me for the rest of my life — the complicated mixture of fear and adrenaline highs. Brushing my hair forward, I tidied up the wavy dark strands that matched the shade of my dress. I grinned at my reflection, feeling the jittery happiness at Leon's compliment.
"Rae, you look so much like an idiot right now," Clara frowned, entering my waiting room.
I shot a look at my best friend and she clicked the case in front of her open, pulling out brushes of all sizes and many other products that would end up being on my face. There were times I wondered why Clara chose to enrol into composition major when she clearly had the potential to become a wonderful stylist. Since high school, she was the one who decided all my dresses and makeover for all my performances.
"Shut up," I clicked my tongue.
I continued to text Leon while Clara did my makeup. When she was done, she pinched on my arm slightly and giggle while mouthing the word 'idiot'. I laughed in return, but she scolded me, saying that I was going to stain my teeth with red lipstick.
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Inhaling a breath, I went on stage and moved towards my seat. Bowing towards my audience, I bend at my waist to pick my cello up and positioned it between my knees. I turned slightly towards the pianist behind me and gave him a nod of assurance.
My heart thumped loudly and steadily as the lights above the audience dimmed. The concert light shone on me, putting me within the spotlight. I folded my fingers around the slender neck of my instrument and my arm held firmly on the bow, placing it just above the four strings spanning the length of the cello.
Listening intently to the soft sounds of piano playing behind me, I closed my eyes and dragged the bow across the string. A deep resounding hum filled the performance hall as I allowed the sound to flow through my veins and swirl in my head — in that moment, I was connected and perfectly in sync with my accompaniment in music. Everything else came naturally as my left hand continued to dance on the fingerboard while my right hand swung gracefully back and forth on the strings. I only got out of my trance when I pulled on the last note and the audiences drowned me in the sea of their applause.
