I don't usually have to do much research when it comes to my Short Stories, but this one pushed me. Ideas hit and I want to run with them, but I couldn't, I had to learn and find out details I didn't already know - like learning about gun laws in the UK. It's part of the reason I love writing, there's always something new to learn. But anyway, here is this week's short story - The Mentor.
The Mentor
Prokofiev Piano Concerto No. 2 filled the vacant concert hall as
Charley’s fingers flew over the ivory keys of the black piano. Fluorescent
lights from above bounced off the piano as the harmonies chimed. She looked at
the empty tiered seats with their green worn cushions and a tear welled in her
eye. Blinking, she looked back at the piano. She swayed with her eyes closed.
The air-conditioning was spewing an icy breeze, but she didn’t mind it, even
without the intense stage lighting keeping her warm. She drew a deep breath in
through her nose and beamed.
“Hey Charley!”
Louisa stood
by one of the many music stands arranged in a semi-circle around the Grand
Piano, and Charley smiled.
“Congratulations!” Louisa laid sheets of
paper on the stand. “I heard you landed a position in Berlin. How great for
you.”
Charley continued to play her favourite piece. “Thanks. Yes,
I’m looking forward to it.”
“When do you start?”
“In a
month. They gave me time to get my living arrangements in place.”
“Well,
that’s just great. I’m so pleased for you. It’s just a shame you’ll be leaving
us.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage.” Charley turned the page of her sheet
music. “It’s not like Maestro is going anywhere.”
“I know, I know.
But we’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, Louisa.”
Louisa
blew a kiss in Charley’s direction as she sauntered off stage. Charley glanced
at the stand with the papers in place and then at her watch. Rehearsal was due
to start in an hour, musicians would wander onto and off stage preparing. A
thump at the opposite side of the stage grabbed Charley’s attention, and she
grinned, watching George haul his Cello across the floor.
“Congrats,”
he took a breath. “Charley!”
“Thanks George.”
“Before long
you’ll be conducting for the Proms!”
Charley giggled. “Maybe. I
can’t wait to start training with Berlin Philharmonic but moving to a new
country is scary.”
“You’ll
make it work.”
“Thanks.”
“Well,” George pointed off stage. “better get the music.” he wandered away.
Out of the corner of
her eye she glimpsed movement and smirked as John strode towards her, his arms
crossed in front of him. He stared at her, not smiling, and she wondered what
was wrong.
“Everyone’s heard, huh?” he said.
“Yes, I guess
so.”
When he reached the grand piano he leaned over, resting his
elbows on the glossy lid. “You’re still quitting?”
Charley rolled her
eyes. “C’mon John, we’ve discussed this. It’s the chance of a lifetime, I can’t
pass it up.”
“I thought you might’ve changed your mind, decided to
stay with me.”
She stopped playing. “You told me to be the best I can
be. You told me to reach for the moon. So I did. I reached out to Berlin. For so
long now, you’ve been telling me how I could be the next Herbert von
Karajan, so why shouldn’t I try? I want to better myself. I want to be the
best-known female conductor.”
John lifted his hand and rubbed his
chin, fingers rustling the bristles of his unshaven face. He let out a forceful
breath through his nose and stared at her. Charley sat at the piano, hands
resting on her lap, and waited for him to continue.
“How long have
you known you’re leaving?”
“The day I found out, I told you. You’ve
known as long as me.”
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
Charley’s
brows pulled together, and she smirked. “What?”
“You’ve met someone
in Berlin, haven’t you? And you don’t want to tell me about them.”
“No
John, I haven’t. I’ve been faithful,” she shook her head. “there’s no one else.
I’m doing this for me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You know
what? I don’t care. I’m supposed to be celebrating, and you’re turning it into
this awful thing I’m doing to you. You know me. You’ve been such a great mentor,
John,” Charley reached out and touched his hand. “and I care about you, but this
is not about YOU.”
John stood and walked towards her, “You’re right,”
he said, “are you taking your new music?”
“Of course. It’s my music,
why wouldn’t I?” She turned on her seat as he stood beside her.
“I thought
you’d want one last performance before you leave,” he rested his hands on her
shoulders and massaged, making her turn back to the piano, “And maybe you could
perform your own piece?”
“Really?” Charley turned her head, grinning,
but he pressed into her shoulders, keeping her in place. “You mean it?”
“I
mean it.” He pressed harder on her shoulders and she winced. “Why not practice
now, I’ll call the musicians and you can get started.”
“Oh that’s
fantastic. Thank you so much!” Charley ignored the painful massage and shuffled
through her sheet music, selecting the sheet she wanted. She played.
“You
play, I’ll gather the crew.” John said.
John leaned over and kissed
her head. He lifted one hand but continued to massage her with the other. She
played her melody, imagining the chorus of the orchestra following her
instructions. She saw herself standing at the podium, waving the baton and
grinning as she made her last performance. The cheer of the crowd rang in her
ears as they yelled for more. They would hear her music, her own arrangement,
and they would see she was someone to remember.
Something sharp
pinched at her neck, “Ouch!” Charley stopped playing. She turned her head and
reached up to her neck, rubbing the site. John looked at her, blank faced.
“Relax.”
He massaged her shoulders again. “Go on, play.”
Charley turned, her
shoulders tensed, and played the piano again. She got into the swing of playing
but frowned when her vision blurred. The keys merged into one, the notes written
on the paper doubled. She blinked. Again. Her heavy eyelids only opening
halfway. Her head swam. She tried to play, but her arms and fingers collapsed,
pressing on the keys. As her body slumped and her chest tightened, she felt John
wrap his arms around her. He leaned her back and looked into her closing eyes.
“It’s okay, Charley,” he brushed her hair aside, “I’ll take care of
everything.”
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