Page 140 of Rock Me

We’re known for our concerts’ light shows, as intricate and as complex as the music. But tonight, we wanted to make it clear that we are back, and for the next hour, we’re all in this together. No spotlight trickery, no dancing disco ball scattered light to start off with. Just us and them, together in a room, enjoying music.

I pull until there’s no more length on my bow, and I look around the giant venue. And I can see everyone’s faces, smiling back at me.

And then I play.

It’s an original, one we wrote for this very night. Starting out simple, melodic, almost dark and shadowy in its tones, abstract. Like Debussy telling stories of his heartbreak.

It’s just me.

My fingers slow and deliberate over the fingerplate as my bow draws each note from the strings. They’re fluid and flexible, almost back to their old state. My wrist still aches a little and it’s probable that it always will.

But it doesn’t stop me.

It doesn’t stop me telling my story.

The song builds, and in the corners of my eyes I see my bandmates start to move. Right on cue, the song dives into the chorus, and Sebastian and Marius and Brad join me. Like musical pillars building from the ground, taking my melody higher and higher, supporting from above, beside, and behind me. My forehead is already slick with sweat and I flick my head back, to get it out of my eyes.

The chorus is a frenzy of sound.

The images playing out in my mind of the chaos of the hospital, of the rehab, the recovery. It’s an arrangement of the song Noémie wrote for me. Pour Jeremy. My story in song.

They have to know.

I want then all to know what tonight is about. I give Sebastian a quick tilt of my head and he knows. He immediately takes over my part as I reach for the microphone in front of me.

“This one’s for you, Noémie.” I say, “Wherever you are in the world, right now. I hope you know, every note I play tonight, is for you.”

There’s a loud collective cheer from the crowd, and it makes my heart swell. I pick up my bow, and position it, waiting for the right break in the music. I jump in, and Sebastian falls back, reclaiming his harmony line, Brad’s violin, weaving in and out over us.

I lose myself in it all.

Letting the music carry me that last few steps in my recovery. And even though she may never hear it, every time I play it, I’ll remember her. I love you, Noémie. Always know, there’s someone out there who loves you.

Suddenly, the venue falls completely dark. All the microphones and audio from our instruments shut off. There’s a gasp from the crowd as they go quiet.

“What the fuck?” I whisper to Seb.

“I don’t know. Can you see you anything?”

“Yeah, a great big lot of black, idiot.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” I hear Marius ask from my right.

“We know about as much as you do.”

“Well, don’t move, let the crew take care of it.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Relax.” Marius says, in his hippie way that actually helps sometimes.

Now is not one of those times.

I hear footsteps running past me, and I imagine it’s the crew trying to fix whatever’s happened.

“Just hang on, guys. We’re on it.” Hank, our assistant, whispers to us, and then he’s off again.

I put my bow on the ground and run my fingers through my hair, I’m sweating all over.