Page 3 of Mason
Smothering a half laugh, half groan, I pocketed my phone without replying.It was thekissesthat did it for me.Every damn time.All she ever had to say was “kisses,” and it melted my heart.I could almost hear her in my head as I read the text.
When the music ended and the spotlight faded, everyone around me began clapping like it was the most amazing performance they’d ever witnessed.Apparently none of them had ever seen my cousin Mia onstage.Before her knee injuries ended her professional dance career, she’d been mesmerizing.Her talent and passion exceeded any other dancer I’d seen in my life.Now she ran a successful dance school and worked as a choreography consultant.
I clapped along with everyone else, attempting not to be rude.With Mom no longer beside me, though, it was going to be more of a struggle to stay polite.I played the part of being respectful when she was around, and that was about as far as my acting talent could take me.If someone wanted a Stevenson with more talent, they should focus on my cousin Arella.
One more performer and then it was over, thank fuck.Then I could stretch my legs, grab a drink, even if it was nothing more than champagne, and attempt to talk Mom into calling it an early night.She could reach out to the winners later about interviews for the magazine.I was freaking starving.No doubt there would be canapés passed around, but those little appetizers wouldn’t touch the gnawing in my gut.I needed a steak or a burger, something with substance.
Mind on the grilled beef I was hoping to devour in the near future, I wasn’t expecting it when the spotlight snapped on the figure seated center stage.
I blinked once, then again, my eyes not believing what I was seeing for a moment.Rich chocolate hair braided and falling over one shoulder, a timeless black dress that molded over gentle curves.She held a cello in front of her, her chin tilted at a fierce, stubborn angle that gave me a glimpse of her pert nose, plush lips that were naturally sculpted, and eyes that appeared almost too big for her face.
Air became trapped in my lungs, my heart pausing only to give a painful double beat, whooshing the air out of me.
All around me, I heard hissed conversations but couldn’t make out a single word being said.My focus was ensnared by the breathtaking creature sitting beneath the harsh spotlight.
Raising her bow, she lowered her gaze.Not to a stand holding her music, but straight at Mom.Her chin appeared to wobble for a moment, causing chaos to unleash in my head.Just as quickly as it appeared, the tremble stopped and turned into a heartbreakingly beautiful smile that jolted something awake inside me, while calming the noise that had started in my head.
Without taking her gaze from my mother, she began to play.Not the Bach concerto that was listed in the event program.Instead, the first haunting notes of…
Fuck, she was playing “Stairway to Heaven.”
Murmurs began again around me, full of confusion and anger.I shushed them, desperate to hear every note, afraid I’d miss even one, never once tearing my gaze from the perfect little cellist as she bled emotions into the audience.Into me.
“That’s not even the music she was listed to play in the program,” Janell or Janessa whined loudly.“This is against the rules, right?”
“Considering your daughter didn’t perform to the music listed on the program for her, I doubt you are going to win that argument, Mrs.Myers,” someone else answered with dry amusement.
“That’s still not fair,” she hissed.“What song even is this?I’ve never heard it before.”
“Shut the fuck up so I can listen!”I barked, effectively cutting off any further conversation in the box.
After a moment, a haughty sigh came from the woman beside me, but I lifted my hand before she could speak.She was fucking ruining it, trying to pull me out of the moment.
It wasn’t just the music, though, that was incredible.Each note touched something inside me, pulling a piece of me free from deep within that I hadn’t realized was buried.No, it was allher.How she leaned into each bow, her fingers working along the instrument, not simply creating noise.There was passion and pain, beauty and sorrow.Everything she was feeling was right there, laid bare for the world to see.
And all I wanted to do was heal her.
Sutton
Mom had always beena Led Zeppelin fan.I would bet everything we owned that she was a little in love with Jimmy Page.The riff in “Kashmir” always had her stop whatever she was doing, her eyes going dreamy.Maybe it was from a long-ago memory, or nothing more than the music touching something deep inside her on a spiritual level.Each time I asked about it, she would scoff and change the subject.When we would do chores around the house, Zeppelin’s music would always play in the background.
It was her love of Jimmy that had me reaching for her cello that first time.I taught myself how to play “Kashmir” to make her laugh.It was messy and loud and so awful.I’d never seen her look at me with more pride, though.She sat on our thrifted couch, face glowing, eyes alight with love and amusement each time I destroyed the song.
After that, she started giving me lessons, which only went so far.Cello had been a phase for her that she hadn’t taken seriously enough past her teens.My love for the instrument was bigger than hers had ever been, and she saw my passion, my raw talent.That was when she began working a third job to cover costs for a teacher who would expand my musical education, giving me countless opportunities to grow as a cellist.
But when Mom had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, I’d lost the joy of playing for a little while.It wasn’t until she was delirious as she lay dying in that hospice bed, begging me to play for her, that I forced myself to pick up the cello again.
She requested “Stairway to Heaven”over and over.Through blinding tears, I gave her what she asked for, keeping the tempo slower and softer than the original so as not to disturb the other residents.
It was the only song that filled my mind when I needed to switch up my performance for the talent competition.I could play it in my sleep from muscle memory alone.Each note wove a spell around me, casting me back to all the good memories Mom and I had created together over the last eighteen years.
Through the full seven and a half minutes, I kept my gaze on the lovely woman in the front row, imagining it was my mom in her seat.The woman gave me a smile that was warm with understanding.
Once I was seated center stage, I could see her face clearer.At first glance, I thought she was younger, maybe in her thirties, but I could make out laugh lines around her eyes that suggested she was older.Her blond hair was pulled back into that classic Barbie ponytail, with her long bangs swept to the side.It showed off her graceful neck with the simple teardrop necklace.
While she wasn’t someone I was familiar with, a pang pulled in my chest, as if some invisible string suddenly linked us together.I played my mother’s favorite song for her, forgetting about the crowd and the competition.All thoughts of Maya sabotaging me flew from my mind.Nothing else mattered but creating the music that had brought my mom peace in her final days and sharing it with this stranger.
For those seven-plus minutes, I got to pretend that I wasn’t carrying the loss of Mom alone, that someone else cared enough to lift the grief and the fear of the unknown from my shoulders.Just a few minutes of weightlessness and a small glimpse of the joy my music brought to another person on this stranger’s beautiful face.
