“Rune?”
Rune rocked nervously on his feet and pointed to the stage. I followed his hand. In the center of the large stage was a single chair, and a cello resting on its side with its bow lying on top.
I tried to fathom what I was seeing, but I couldn’t comprehend it. This was Carnegie Hall. One of the most famous concert venues in the whole wide world.
Without a word, Rune led me down the aisle toward the stage, stopping at a set of temporary steps. I turned to face him, and Rune met my eyes. “Poppymin, if things had been different…” He sucked in a breath, but managed to compose himself enough to continue. “If things had been different, you would have played here as a professional one day. You would have played here as part of an orchestra, the orchestra that you’ve dreamed about being a part of.” Rune’s hand squeezed mine. “You would have performed the solo you’ve always wanted to perform on this stage.”
A tear spilled out from Rune’s eye. “But because that can’t happen, because life is so damn unfair … I still wanted you to have this. To have known what this dream would feel like. I wanted you to have your chance in the spotlight. A spotlight that, in my opinion, you deserve, not only as the person I love most in the entire world, but as the best cellist. The most gifted musician.”
Realization dawned. The magnitude of what he had done for me began to set in, drifting slowly to rest on my exposed heart. Feeling my eyes fill with water, I stepped closer to Rune, splaying my hands on his chest. I blinked up at him, trying to rid the tears from my eyes. Unable to hold back my emotions, I tried to ask, “Have you … how did you … do this…?”
Rune pulled me forward and guided me up the stairs until I was standing on the stage that had been my life’s greatest ambition. Rune’s hand squeezed mine again, in place of words. “Tonight you have the stage, Poppymin. I’m sorry I’m the only one who will witness your performance, but I just wanted you to have this dream fulfilled. I wanted you to play in this hall. I wanted your music to fill this auditorium. I wanted your legacy to be imprinted on these walls.”
Stepping closer to me, Rune placed his hands on my cheeks and wiped away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. Pressing his forehead to mine, he whispered, “You deserve this, Poppy. You should have had more time to see this dream realized, but … but…”
I gripped my hands around Rune’s wrists as he struggled to finish. My eyes squeezed shut, expelling the remaining tears from my eyes. “Don’t,” I hushed out, and lifted Rune’s wrist to kiss his racing pulse. Resting it on my chest, I added, “It’s okay, baby.” I inhaled, and a watery smile spread on my lips. The scent of wood filled my nostrils. If I closed my eyes tightly enough, it felt as though I could hear the echo of all the musicians who had stepped onto this wooden stage, the master musicians who had graced this hall with their passion and genius.
“We’re here now,” I finished, and stepped back from Rune. Opening my eyes, I blinked in the view of the auditorium from my heightened position. I imagined it full of people, all dressed for a concert. Men and women who love to feel the music in their hearts. I smiled, seeing the picture so vibrantly in my mind.
When I turned back to the boy who had arranged this moment for me, I was speechless. I had no words to accurately express what this gesture had done to my soul. The gift Rune had given me so purely and sweetly … my biggest dream come true.
So I didn’t speak. I couldn’t.
Instead, I released his wrists and walked to the solitary seat that awaited me. I ran my hand over the black leather, feeling the texture under my fingertips. I walked to the cello, the instrument that had always felt like an extension of my body. An instrument that filled me with a joy that one can never explain until it is truly experienced. A joy that is all-encompassing and carries with it a higher form of peace, of tranquility, of serenity; a delicate love like no other.
Unbuttoning my coat, I slipped it off my arms, only for two familiar hands to lift it, then skirt gently over my skin. I glanced back at Rune, who silently left a kiss on my bare shoulder, then left the stage.
I didn’t see where he sat, for as he left the stage, the spotlight from directly above the seat moved from a dim glow to a potent shine. The house lights were brought down. I stared at the brightly illuminated chair with a heady mix of nervousness and excitement.
One foot stepped forward, the heels from my shoes causing an echo to rebound off the walls. The sound shook my bones, setting ablaze my weakening muscles, rejuvenating them with life.
Bending down, I lifted the cello and felt its neck in my grasp. I held the bow in my right hand, its slender wood fitting perfectly into my fingers.
I lowered myself to the chair, tipping the cello to move the spike to my perfect height. Righting the cello, the most beautiful cello I had ever seen, I closed my eyes and brought my hands to the strings, plucking each one to check it was in tune.
Of course, it was pitch-perfect.
I shuffled to the edge of the seat, planting my feet down on the wooden floor until I felt ready and primed.
Then I allowed myself to look up. I tilted my chin to the spotlight as if it were the sun. Inhaling a deep breath, I closed my eyes, then connected my bow to the string.
And I played.
The first notes of the Bach Prelude flowed from my bow to the string and out to the hall, rushing forth to fill the large room with the heavenly sounds. I swayed as the music took me in its embrace, pouring from me, exposing my soul for everyone to hear.
And in my head the hall was packed. Every seat was occupied as aficionados listened to me play. Listened to music that demanded to be heard. Played such melodies that not a dry eye could be found in the house. Exuded such passion that all hearts would be filled and spirits would be touched.
I smiled under the heat of the light, which was warming my muscles and extinguishing their pain. The piece drew to a close. Then I struck up another. I played and I played until so much time had passed that I could feel my fingers beginning ache.
I lifted the bow, a gaping silence now shrouding the hall. I let a tear fall as I thought of what to play next. What I knew I would play next. What I must play next.
The one piece of music that I dreamed I would play on this prestigious stage. The one piece that spoke to my soul like no other. The one piece that would have a presence here long after I was gone. The one I would play as a farewell to my passion. After hearing its perfect echo in this magnificent hall, I would not, could not, play it ever again. There would be no more cello for me.
This had to be where I left this part of my heart. This would be where I said goodbye to the passion that had kept me strong, that had been my savior in the times I grew lost and alone.
This would be where the notes were left to dance in the air for eternity.
I felt a tremble in my hands as I paused before I began. I felt the tears flowing thick and fast, but they weren’t in sadness. They were for two fast friends—the music and the life that created it—telling one another that they had to part, but that one day, someday, they would be together again.
Counting myself in, I placed the bow on the string and let “The Swan” from Carnival of the Animals begin. As my now-steady hands began to create the music I adored so much, I felt a lump fill my throat. Each note was a whispered prayer, and each crescendo was a loudly sung hymn, to the God that gave me this gift. Gave me the gift of playing music, of feeling it in my soul.