AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What I usually do, right.” She nods, more for herself. “I can do that.”
Sucking in a long breath, she places her hands over the keys. They stay there for a moment as if she’s not exactly sure what to do now that she’s here. I bite the inside of my cheek, holding my own breath as I wait for what feels like an eternity.
C’mon, Birdy. Just play.
Which is ironic because I know better than most that there isn’t anythingjustwhen it comes to playing.
Art isn’t like some other job that you can just do on a whim. To create art, you need to feel it in your very bones. For me, creating music was always like that. A need builds inside me until the only thing I can do is let it out in the open.
Birdy firmly gives her head a little shake and lets out the breath that she’s been holding as her fingers press against the keys. The first few notes that ring in the room are a little shaky.
She’s nervous, I realize.
I don’t understand why because she’s so talented, but regardless of her discomfort, she keeps playing. And the more she plays, the more relaxed she becomes. Whatever insecurity she has dissipates as the music sucks her in, and she pulls me right along with her.
I’m transfixed.
By her. By the music she plays. By the way her body moves to the melody like they’re one.
One heart. One mind. One soul.
It’s as if her music is all she can focus on. Her hands move faster, almost effortlessly, as that now familiar tune fills the room. My eyes fall shut, and I just listen; that vice grip that was squeezing around my throat these past few months is finally loosening.
The melody reaches its peak, and as the piece slowly comes down from the high, she starts playing it again from the top, making the most minimal changes as if she’s testing it out, trying to figure out what sounds would work the best together.
Sliding my backpack to my front, I unzip it and pull my notebook out with as little noise as possible to avoid disturbing her before sitting on the floor and flipping the page open.
And then, I press the pen against the paper and write.
All the feelings that have been building inside me for the past few months come to the surface. They’re still overwhelming, but instead of fighting them like I usually do, I let them out.
The pen flies over the page as I write down notes to the song forming in my own head.
I don’t know how long we stay like that. The music the only thing filling the room. My sole focus is on the notes that I’m scribbling on the page as fast as I can, with my heart racing in my chest.
“What if you changed it?”
The music stops, and when I look up, I find Birdy turned toward me. She blinks a few times as if she’s coming out of a daze. Like she got so lost in playing that she forgot that she wasn’t alone.
“What?”
“You’ve been going over this particular part the last three times. What if you exchange that C major for a G minor?”
“I thought we were helping you.”
My gaze falls down on the notebook. The smudged words and the notes I was trying to write all down as quickly as possible.
I could feel the itch in my fingers to grab my guitar and try to play it. It was most likely a lot of gibberish, but it was something.
The most I’ve written in months.
A start.
“You are.”
“I did?” A crinkle appears between her brows, and she sounds so surprised I can’t help but laugh.
“You did. I got some work done.” I rub my fingers together. I can practically feel the bite of the strings against my fingertips. “Maybe I should bring my guitar with me next time.”
