I took my hands from the piano and stared blankly to outside. It was raining. It was cold. And that was I felt. I felt cold, I felt empty. I waited for my mother and laid my head on the piano. The coldness made me sleepy and before I knew, I was asleep.
My mother’s cold hands were the one that woke me up. I woke up, seeing my mother with her work uniform. I was rubbing my eyes and she began to chuckle. “You’re sleepy head. What are you doing, sleeping on the piano?” I hug her tightly. Her body hardened – she was completely shocked. “What’s wrong, Edward?” she asked.
I tried not to cry – I need time to explain it to my mother. I did explain it using hands signal. She knew the exact words I tried to say. My mother was there, knew every single thing I did, aware of every single move I did; she always there. Her hand was rubbing my back. I was close to my mother; she was the only family I have had. My father had left me. She once said to me, “Your father was a great man. He was also a great pianist. He played piano and he had written me a song before he died.” It was a great song. My father was an emotional man – I cried when the song played. It was sad and blissful on the same moment. It had mixed feelings.
The name of the song was, ‘When I had you.’
She said it was made for us – for her – a memento of his life, a symbol of his love. She said I had inherited the gift from him. I was a great pianist too, she said.
“She’ll leave?” I nodded. She was thinking deeply. Her face became smooth when she looked at me. “I know that you like her. I’m a mother. I knew it. That was the reason you were sad?”
That was not the only reason, mother. I felt sad because besides you, she is my best friend, my love; my life. I need her as much I need you. And she will never know. I chose to silence. I want her here, now and forever. But I don’t want her future being ruined because of me. She was a smart teenager. She has to make a choice and the only choice was leaving.
That’s what I thought when I met her today.
The clock was showing seven-thirty. I met her for the last time before she leave. It was distraught me because she didn’t say anything. She kept silence for I thought forever. I took my notebook and began to write, “I guess it’s a goodbye for now.”
She looked surprised as she didn’t expect me to write those words. “You happy for it?” she said. I didn’t see it coming. I sighed. “It was good for your future, Adelaine.” I wrote. She startled. “Do you think like that? That it was, supposed to be my best future? You know about my dream, right? I want to be a designer. I always want to.”
“It won’t get you anywhere.” I replied. Why those words were just same as her father told me yesterday? She shocked. I know that she didn’t see it coming. “That were the exact words that my father had told me.” She smirked. It was hurt knowing that she hates me for saying those words. Her eyes began to fill with tears. She stared at me.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Why you’re letting me go? Don’t you want me to stay, do you?” Her voice became depressing. “You want me to leave?”
I do want you stay, Adelaine. I do. But I don’t want to be greedy. I don’t want to be selfish. You have a great future ahead you, Adelaine. You will be okay. I myself have no right to stop you yet I want you stay. Stop this, Adelaine. You were only hurting me and your father. With a split second, I nodded. That was my biggest mistake. But I did it for her, for her own benefits.
She frowned. Her face turned red and surprised when she saw me nodded. She turned back and walked away – to get on the plane. That is it. She left, without says goodbye.
A day and a day after that passed like a wind. You could feel it but you can’t ignore it. That was upset and throbbing. My heart healed but it’s not same as before. I became colder than before. I frankly hate seeing people because I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to be left anymore. I did well as a pianist and as a student. But I failed as a son and a man. My mother noticed the difference in me but what she could do about it? She knew perfectly what had happened and she sad for me. I know but I couldn’t forget what had I done. I couldn’t forgive myself either.
I want her to leave. I nodded on the last time I seen her. She was upset too. She wants to stay but I asked her to leave. That was not fair enough. I hurt her feeling – I hurt mine too.
She said she will come back. That was her promise. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became days, days became weeks, weeks became months and months became years. After five years, she never did come back. I was giving up. She has a better life in there.
My lecturer was a smart and a stunning performer. He had been in orchestra for many times – he even has his own. I respected him. He taught me a lot – more than I could imagine. I learnt to be a better pianist because of him. His name is Charles. I never know his true name because he kept it always secret. I couldn’t care less.
For someone who abandoned, I did move on.
“Are you ready, Edward?” he looked at me with his animated eyes. I nodded my head as I stared the stage from the backside of the hall. My heart stomped hard as if I want to faint – at this rate, I do want to faint. I was his first student ever. Charles never had a student because he hates teaching other people – well, that was what he said before he took me as a student four years ago. After he saw me played in my first test, he took me in as his protégé. I am grateful – he was a famous and a well respected pianist – but I had to deal with his temper and his absolutely tough trainings.
He wants me to be one of the world’s incredible pianists – along with his name.
One day of summer, Charles had persuaded me to play piano in front of people in this world of famous opera – Sydney Opera House. My first answer when he asked me before was a big NO but Charles really wants me to show my capability to the rest of the world. And finally I agreed with him – only when he agreeable to teach me for one more year. He said yes – in unwillingly state.
I did this because of him, because of my mother and because of Adelaine.
I finally reached Australia one week before my first solo performance. My first thing in my what-to-do list was seeking Adelaine. I failed, though. I couldn’t find her. Maybe because we were never keep in touch in these five years. She never calls me. She never sends me letters. She never did for once, wishing my birthdays in these five years.
She was completely forgotten about me.
I can’t blame her. I am too, never call nor send her any letters neither cards. It was because I scared, afraid because what had I done to her. I was waiting her ‘How are you?’ letters and also my five birthday cards. I never give her once yet I want mine. I was egotistic.
That was the reason I stopped being hopeful and gave up.
As the day counts, I was ready for my first solo performances without Charles by my side. At least that was what Charles thought. I’m not ready. Not now. Earlier, Charles was giving an idea for my songs – he wants me to play my own songs – which is including ‘If only I could say’. The song I had written to Adelaine. I refused but he wants me to play it. So, tonight, in this Sydney Opera House, ‘If only I could say’ will be heard to the world – for the first time in these five years.
“Listen, Edward.” I looked at him. He was nervous too. “This night will be your history. My history as well – my first protégé – and I want you to do well. No pressure but I want you to do well.” He looked at me with his eyes full of hope.
No pressure? That’s too much.
I sighed. I know. After the host pronounced my name, I walked outside, to the stage, to the world of thoughts, to my own success and my own history; to the world. I was become the world’s. I bowed to the ocean of eyes and I heard the claps from the audience. That was too much for the amateur yet I’m on this stage. I sat on the chair and my fingers began to play.
Even though my fingers on the piano, my heart was not fully on the songs. I was lost. Charles knew. I can hear his thoughts from here. My mother knew too. I can see her eyes stared at me sadly. She smiled blandly. Her hands waved to me. She tried to comfort me. I smiled back at her.
After seeing her smile, my spirit and my courage came back. I played my song to my mother with a full of emotion. This is for you, Mother. From the very first notes I played, I can hear people feedbacks. It was full of praises, my mother was crying and even Charles screaming in his heart saying, “That’s the way, Edward!”
Finally, I created my own history. And the song ended. I stopped.
“That’s the last one, Edward. Play it. Play it with full of spirit.” I heard Charles’ thoughts. But my hands went numb. My heart beats hard. Why I can’t play this song? Why I keep thinking about you? Why when I want to move on, I can’t do it? Why I feel in this way when you completely forgotten about me?
Why, I can’t forget about you?I looked around. All eyes were in me. They all quiet. I glanced to my mother. She was too, stared at me. Her forehead frowned. Charles kept screaming in his heart, asking me to continue it. I want so badly get out from there – running and hiding in somewhere. As my gaze reached other
people faces, I can see, perfectly clear – Adelaine.
