“Mom, when are you going to be here?” I called her on the phone, as all the orchestra members waited behind the heavy curtains. The maestro peeked a look from behind the curtains and mouthed that a lot of people have arrived. “I can’t drive fast due to the heavy snow,” she explained and at that moment, I was worried about her. “Drive carefully, mom,” I told her, when the maestro signaled us to be ready, I said “It’s about to start, gotta go now,” I ended the call after she wished me good luck for my first ever performance.
The orchestra members quickly went to their respective places. My nervousness grew as I felt a cold sweat on my hands. The curtains were slowly raised up, exposing us. The audience gave a long, generous applause as the maestro bowed and we soon followed after. I scanned through the audience and my eyes fell on empty place where my mom was supposed to be. I hope she can arrive here safely, I thought. The maestro turned to us and raised his baton, and the drums started to beat. I placed the violin on my left shoulder and held the bow gracefully as I moved it along the strings, perfectly synchronized with other instruments. The combination of the instruments made such a beautiful and soothing sounds and I was instantly captivated by it.
Time flew so fast whenever I immersed myself into the music and by the time I knew it, the performance was already over. I was glad the performance impeccably went by. I glanced over the audience and got worried when the seat was still unoccupied. It was disheartening the fact that she missed it. Everyone stood up and bowed again, as the curtains were lowered down.
I went to the backstage right away to check my phone. I could hear the familiar ringtone of my phone and saw the incoming call from my father. I took a quick breath and slid it to the right. “Hell-“ He cut me and persisted with his cold, discontent voice, “Your mother got into an accident,” he hung up, without giving me any explanation. My heart sank and I can feel my hands shaking by itself. Panicking, I hastily rushed outside and drove to the hospital.
I was drenched in sweat when I arrived. My father was sitting in front of the operation room and I stopped when he glanced at me, his eyes filled with hatred. He wasn’t like this before but after I opted for music over education, something he thought the only way to succeed, he started to disapprove me and saw me as a failure.
I sat a distance away from, not wanting to trigger him shouting me, especially in this silence corridor. Neither of us wanted to speak with each other. The silence broke out when my father spoke, “Give up the violin.” I was taken aback by what he just said. I felt miserable enough of the accident and now he demanded me to give up violin? Music is my hope, my only way to escape from this corrupted, insensitive mind of his. I swallowed the lump in my throat, “No,” I told him, courageously, though deep in my heart, I was afraid he vent out his anger on me.
“Your mother got into accident because of you. All because of your stupid performance,” He told me cruelly. Each word that came out of him was filled with disgust and loathe. I flinched when he stood up suddenly, he must be couldn’t stand the sight of me.
“Elise.” Even the way he said my name was cold and unfriendly. He ended the conversation, “You won’t be successful. You would do well to remember that.” He swiftly turned away and left me behind in the silent, empty corridor. I tightened my grip to hold back the tears and let out a shaky breath. Thinking about my unconscious mother in the operating room, and the fact I have to give up violin because of him was disheartening and heartbreaking. The amount of sadness I felt was uncontrollable, I didn’t realized my tears escaped from my eyes.
I whispered quietly, “All I want is to be free.”