AN ETERNAL LOVE, a short story
I take some steps toward the love of my life. The one true
love that has supported me throughout my life’s hardships. The one true love
that has never left my side, irrespective of the situation. As my steps drew
closer, I’m reminded of how this dearest has helped me realize my mistakes.
Eventually, all these life experiences helped me become a better person.
“Oh, another typical love story."
You may say so. But this is not the kind of story you’re
expecting. This is the story of my love for someone who is still not someone.
Don’t be confused anymore, because I intend not to confuse you. I want to tell
you about my eternal love story.
This is my love for my piano—an eternal love, to be more
specific. The story of love between a piano and its instrumentalist. A story of
sadness, desperation, despair, and separation, but a beautiful story
nonetheless.
I think this story started the day I first laid eyes on my
piano. Or maybe it started the day I first went to a concert or the day I first
played the piano. Anyway, the path I’m on right now was laid forward the day of
my birthday, the 17th one. I had no idea of the big surprise—the burst of
happiness entering my life. As I unwrapped the surprise, I couldn’t stop the
tears rolling down my eyes, for I had found the path to my dreams. The instant
bond between us said forever. Little did I realize then that you were not the
path, but you were the dream of mine.
As I played the first notes on you, those of River Flows in you, I whispered to you, “Our bond shall be that of forever. I shall never stop playing. The day I stop playing, the day of our separation, it shall be the day my soul leaves me, the day when I will breathe my last.”
And today is the day. My steps are closer and closer to you,
my life, and everything. As the steps close in the distance between us slowly,
the sounds around us grow fainter. The sounds of whispers in Carnegie Hall are
our dream together. It’s an irony, isn’t it? This very audience that fulfilled
our dream is the same audience that is separating us today. I wonder how many
of them even feel guilty for the fate they’ve brought upon us. But maybe most
of them don’t even know about it.
That’s when I saw him, in the very first row, with a smile
that said he regretted nothing. The one who brought this on us. I still
remember the words he said to us.
“Either play or your beloved piano shall be destroyed, but remember, once you play here, you shall never get to play ever again.”
I finally reach my piano, my companion forever, my whole
soul, and the true essence of my being. I sit down on the stool, hands
positioned on the piano, and am ready to play. The whole crowd is hushed up at
that moment, waiting for the notes to begin. Until now, I wasn’t sure which of
the two pieces close to my heart I was going to play: Moonlight Sonata, a piece
of despair, or Nocturne Op 9 No. 2, a piece of sheer beauty and love.
But as I set my eyes on you, I knew exactly what I was going
to play. And with memories of a lifetime flashing through my eyes, the nocturne
begins.
AGE 5
“Grandpere! Grandpere! Where are you taking me?”
“To the first piano concert of your life, my angel. I still
remember the days when you were nothing bigger than a small baby that could fit
in your hands. Every time you started wailing, only one piano piece could calm
you down. And by chance, it’s being played today in our local concert hall. I
have to take you to see this, my angel.”
And thus they went, grandpa with his little granddaughter
seated on his shoulders, to the concert, talking and laughing. As the notes of
Nocturne op. 9 no. 2 began playing and filling up the ears of the little girl,
she was filled with awe at the way such beautiful sound could be produced in
such a way. Even more fascinating to her was the connection she could see
between the piano and the pianist—a connection as if they were one and only
one. And when the concert ended, she jumped into her grandpa’s arms and kissed
his cheek.
“I loved it, Papoi!”
“I’m sorry, Papoi,” I whisper under my breath as tears fall
from my eyes. I keep playing the notes with all the love I ever have in me
flowing through the tips of my fingers.
“I’m sorry I have to do this.”
And I keep playing.
AGE 17
“Papa, Mama! Please tell me what my gift is.”
“Go and see for yourself, princess.”
The parents gave their little girl a puzzle to solve—a
treasure hunt. As she solved each step of it eagerly, she came across her piano
for the first time.
“Thank you, Papa, Mama!”
She cried tears of joy.
But today, these weren’t tears of joy. These were the tears
of separation and sadness falling from my eyes.
“I love you, Mama, Papa. Thank you for the most beautiful gift of my life.”
AGE 20
The girl was scared out of her wits.
“I can’t do this. What was I even thinking about signing
up for this?! I’m not prepared at all. Everyone will hate me.”
“What are you doing, Dumbo?”
It was her elder sister who was there to attend her first
concert.
“I’m scared, Lia; I don’t think I can do this.”
“What do you mean you can’t do this? You’re one of the best
pianists in the whole city, and you know it! And anyway, you should not be
focusing on the audience. This is your first concert, Dumbo. And today, when
you go out there, you’re not playing for the audience; you’re playing for
yourself, for your piano. Now go out there, go knock ‘em dead!”
And so she went. And it was magical—the way the notes of the
Moonlight Sonata slipped through her fingers to her piano. It was as if there
was no barrier between her and her piano. It was as if they were one. Just like
she saw with her grandparents; just like her first concert.
And when she stopped playing, the one who clapped the
hardest in the audience was her sister, and the ones who were jumping up and
down like maniacs, screaming, were her idiotasss.
“Take care, Lia. I love you more than anything else does.
And, my idiotasses, remain happy wherever you are. I love you all.”
I arrive at the ending notes of the piece.
“Today, this is the end. I’m sorry, everyone, but this is
it. I love you all more than anything, and I’m sorry, but I have to let
go.”
“It’s time to go, piano.”
And then I lift my hands from the piano, ending the
performance. The audience erupts with claps, but I fall from the stool, my
lifeless form sprawled across the stage floor. My soul lifts us from my body,
connecting with one of my pianos, for ours was a bond of forever.
The crowd was hushed up, and the man who brought this upon
us was shocked. Some people ran up to the stage trying to revive me, but to no
avail, for it was promised that the very moment of my separation from my piano
was the moment of my departure. For my soul, it was the pianos, and we were one
and only one.
The piano dissipates from the stage, and everyone looks on in shock. And so, my soul departs from all the happenings and lifts from the world to join my piano, waiting for me away from this physical world and waiting for our togetherness in heaven.
“Even God can’t separate us. Even death can’t do us part.”
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