by Usamimi Ko
Meet Rosalie. Piano playing could be her life, if she only let it be her future.
|I sit, serving my 5-9, 5 out of 7 days. And 8 out of 7 days, I wonder how I got here. It’s not that I took the wrong path. It was the best path to take actually…if you had wanted to be what I am now. I took the incorrect path, and good things came. I made no mistakes, not letting emotions in my way, not letting money be an issue. I took a path many people take, and good things really did come, just not the kind of things I wanted…or maybe even needed.
On a quiet day, I can close my eyes and move my fingers rapidly over the keys, pretending the keyboard is a gorgeous, black, Grand Yamaha. Every key rising back up as I take my finger off of it. And when I press it down again, a gorgeous, well-struck note sounds instead of a fast click. The shining screen in front of me is any of Mozart’s pieces. It’s always what I feel like playing. It can be as simple as his Piano Sonata No. 16 in C major, or as gorgeous, intricate and lovely as Rondo Alla Turca . But eventually, I’m woken up from my fantasy.
“Are you okay? Why are you crying?”.
I say I’m fine, but I’m not. I want to go back to my daydream; I want to be what I wanted to be when I grew up. I want to go back and tell myself not to listen to what other people want me to do, but what my heart desires.
I, of course, excuse my self.
Sometimes, in good nights, I can listen to Mozart and not break down. And I think about how to fix my situation. I look out my costly, yet affordable to me, New York apartment’s balcony and I try to figure out my next move towards my real goal. But my heart becomes emptier as I get older everyday, and my chances slip.
Sometimes I get to see him. He works for a sister company and sometimes comes to talk to us in meetings about plans for our companies’ future. His desired future is different than mine, but even so, I still wish he was the one I could someday play Mozart’s Sonata in KV 448 in D Major with. This piece requires two pianos. And I’d love for him to be the other piano. The one that plays the piano right beside me, and stays beside me even after the curtain comes down and the claps have stopped.
I, of course, rid myself of such fantasies, but it only works until the next time we meet.
In bad nights, I open my piano and cry in between notes. I want to stay with my beloved piano all day, and show our melodious bond at nights. That’s what makes me cry. That’s what makes me frustrated and tired of my life. That’s also what made the key jump.
I tried pushing it back in, but it popped up just the same. Oh, my piano! My only companion! My sweet solace every lonely night! What had I done to you?
Tears running down, I closed the piano and called it a night.