Page 19 of Serenade Me

Sitting on a wooden stool, harp resting between her legs, her wild, untamed mass of hair, with her back to me and her head leaning back, is Anca.

Lost to the web she’s weaving around her, around me, binding us together with the notes coming from her fingers as they dance over the strings.

I’ve never heard the harp played this way before.

And we’ve played with symphonies and orchestras all over the world.

Prodigies and protégés.

Expertly plucking those strings as if they were extensions of their own body.

But nothing like this.

Like it’s replacing her own voice.

I spin around. Our instruments are laid out, ready for our rehearsal later. I pick up my viola and bow, not caring about the tuning. I raise it to my shoulder and wait.

Wait for my opening.

And then, as if the song is taking a breath, there’s a moment. I pull my bow and join her.

A little twinkle, trill, just an octave above her melody.

It thrills me.

I see her startle and she tilts her head a fraction to the side, but her fingers never stop.

I ignore her, avoid her eyes. This isn’t about me or her. It’s between her harp and my viola. I clear my mind of all thoughts, and just let the song take charge. We soar into the chorus, a beautiful arc of sound, building and building as the melody pushes harder and harder to a climax. I see the lyrics dancing over my mind like a silent play. And then, like the tide, it recedes. Some songs crash to a sudden silent stop. Leaving the brain to fill in the blank. Her harp decides to fade, note by note, drawing a path in the brain to beautiful, quiet conclusion. I pull the bow for the last time, until there’s no more string and no more sound and no more breath. And it’s gone.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Not wanting it to end. Songs can linger forever, if nothing replaces them. Like heartbreak until someone else comes along to repair it. Music just floats in your mind until another sound imprints itself.

In this case, it’s the sound of a French neanderthal.

“DUDES! THAT WAS DOPE!” I open my eyes, and the rest of the band, Dennis and Cadence have gathered around us.

I rotate on my heel away from them, busying myself with putting my viola back in her case, taking a deep breath and pressing a finger to my temple. It suddenly aches.

“Marius?” I hear Cadence call out to me and I take a beat before joining the group, deliberately not looking in Anca’s direction.

“Babe, that was… wow. Have you guys been working on that song? It’s pretty bloody perfect, hey.” Cadence gushes, her Australian accent coming on strong whenever she’s excited.

“Er, no. I um, I just heard Anca playing and thought I’d play along. I just joined in near the end, she actually was playing it before I… um, well, I was sleeping. In there. That room. Yeah.”

You can see what I mean by not being able to form a sentence.

She gets up from her stool, finally, and stands behind Jez, who moves over and lets her into the circle. “I hope you don’t mind. Jez said I should warm up a bit first before I audition for you guys later. I don’t have a lot of experience performing non-classical music, but I’ve always loved that song and I thought it worked well with piano, so strings and harp wouldn’t be too far a stretch. And, um, I, er, I didn’t mind you joining in. It was, um, it was better than I expected.” She lifts her lashes at the last words and looks up at me.

Something short-circuits in my head and I try not to move in case the move is to grin like an idiot.

A sharp elbow finds itself dug into my side and I lose my balance.

“Say something,” Cadence whispers through her teeth.

“Oh. Yeah, thanks,” is about all I can say.

“Anca, I’m Dennis, boss of these here idiots. I don’t know about the guys but, that’s all the audition I’m going to need. We’ll have a chat but judging by everyone’s reaction, we hope you don’t have any birthday parties to go to in the next few weeks, because we’d love for you to come with us.”

No.