Archive of Our Own ^beta

It crept up on me slowly so that I didn't even notice until I was deep into its grasp. Sounds faded away and the world with it. My lungs started burning for air but no matter how much I gasped, it wasn't enough. I started to sweat and my whole body felt cold. I was caught in the icy hold of the water. My vision darkened at the edges and it was like my whole world became just those white and black keys in front of me. Those keys whose sound I could not hear. I was drowning.

My fingers knew where to move and they kept moving, but the metronome in my head was gone and I couldn't tell if I was going too fast or too slow or even if I was hitting the right notes at all. I didn't know if I was playing poorly, but I was sure I must be.

I was terrified. I couldn't understand what was happening to me. Had I gone deaf? Or was I truly dying? But I was a performer to the bone and I knew to never stop playing, not for anything. So mechanically I pressed the keys, pushing through to the end. My hair was drenched with sweat my hands were shaking, but I stood up, gave a jerky bow, and escaped into the darkness backstage.

I ran until I found a small corner behind some music stands and I curled up there. That's when I realized that some of the sweat on my face was actually tears: I was sobbing. But I didn't care. I kept sobbing, crying with all my heart, like only a little girl of nine years old can. I had lost Mama, the most important person in the world to me, and now I was losing the second most important thing: music.

I don't know how long I sat there, but the one who found me was actually Diana, my mother's best friend. She was acting as my piano coach now that Mama passed away. She knelt down besides me and wrapped me in her arms. “Alexa?” She whispered. “What's wrong, Alexa? What happened out there?”

I shuddered in her grasp and let out another sob, but I managed to say, “The music. It's gone.”

“What do you mean, love?” Her voice was soothing, gentle. It was like a lullaby that I hadn't heard from my own mother in years.

“I couldn’t hear it,” I tried to explain after taking a slow breath. “I couldn't hear the notes I was playing. They just went away, and there was nothing. It was silent. I'm so scared, Miss Diana.”

She hugged me and rubbed my back. “It's okay, Alexa. Your hearing is not gone; you can hear me. You were just so nervous that you froze up. It happens to everyone, sometimes. You'll be okay, give it time.” It was too early, she had said that from the very first day. I should take some time off to grieve. I knew that was what she was thinking now. So I tried to believe her.

***~***

But she was wrong. I never was okay after that, my hearing never came back. No, I wasn't deaf. I could hear normally in any other situation. It was just a very specific, anxiety-induced deafness; it only came up when I tried to perform.

For many competitions and exhibitions, I would sit down, confident that this time I would defeat it. I would start playing and everything would seem perfect. But then without fail, every time, the silence would creep up on me and I would be drowning again. Drowning in silence. And eventually I dropped out. I didn't sign up for more competitions, I didn't even attend the performances of my peers. I stopped taking lessons. I didn't want to face the terror that came with that silence.

But this left me in a dull, gray world. Music was the color in my life. It was the warmth, the joy, the love. Music was what made the world beautiful and without it, there was just smoke. Nothing. Silence.

But this was a silence I could control.

My best friend Em tried to talk me out of it for the longest time. She would hug me and say, “Beethoven was deaf. And he was still a world-class musician. You can do it, Alexa! It'll be okay.” But she didn't understand.

She had come faithfully to all my performances, but Em never did understand music. Not the way I heard it. It was just a sound for her, but it was a way of life to me.

My peers, those other children who wanted to be the best, who practiced piano for hours on end, they had always hated me. They hated me because they couldn't beat me; I was always one step ahead. And now they sneered at me.

“Guess you're not going to be a famous pianist after all, Alexa. You don't have what it takes.” “I can’t believe you gave up so easily. You could have had it all.” “You never loved music, did you? You don't belong here anyway.”

But for me, it never was about being the best. Music was like breathing to me, I didn't make a choice. It just happened. And I didn't care if I beat them or not, I just wanted to make Mama proud. But I had failed her.

She had been sick for two years. Her treatment started costing more money and taking more time. She couldn't play anymore, not in concert. It was devastating for her, for both of us. Father was never around, but it never mattered, before. The piano was our world; it was all we needed.

When she was diagnosed, she knew she wouldn't be able to provide for me anymore. She knew she would be gone soon and I would be left with nothing. So she began to drill into me everything she knew. She wanted to leave me with all she had to give.

They called me the girl with a metronome for a heart. I practiced so hard, just to make Mama happy. I practice for hours every day. She wouldn't let me play with my friends unless I got a piece right. So of course, of course it sounded just like it was written. Because that's what I heard in my head all day long. If the tempo was off, Mama would be upset. She wanted me to succeed. She wanted me to get perfect scores. So I did.

The critics said I didn't have a heart. I didn't put enough emotion into my music: no sadness, no joy. I never cared what they said, though, all I ever wanted was to make Mama happy. And what made her happy was perfecting a song so that there were no more flaws. Maybe if I could do that, then she wouldn't leave me.

Perhaps she took it too far, but it wasn’t her fault. The sickness left her in pain, and the only piano she could play was vicariously through me. In the end, she was angry all the time. She grew harsh and demanding as a teacher. Everything was the piano; there was no more time for childhood or laughter or cuddles. She was in a frenzy to impart all that she knew and mold me into the perfect concert pianist, so I would never have to rely on anyone. She wanted me to make it in the harsh world, so she had to teach me to be numb to it. It hurt, but I forgave her. I knew she only did it because she loved me.

Almost a year after Mama’s death, when I was no longer playing, Em tried to bring up the past. She told me that I didn't need to wallow in guilt, that I wasn't the cause of Mama dying. That she would have died anyway. And then she told me that Mama had been cruel to me near the end. That she shouldn't have pushed me so hard. That I deserved better.

We fought and I didn't speak to Em for a week. When I finally let her back into my life, she never brought it up again. She knew better. And somewhere, deep inside, I knew that maybe she was right. But it didn't matter anymore.

***~***

So that brings us to today. I am thirteen years old and I haven't played the piano for an audience in four years. I am doing fine. I miss it, of course. If I think about it too hard, every fiber of my being longs for that feeling again. But it just isn't worth drowning in the silence that comes along with it.

Em was still my best friend. She had stuck with me through all of this, so I knew I can count on her. And she was the one that brought Annie into my life. Well, in a roundabout way.

I was at one of her softball things. Tryouts, or some sort of show-off for the high school coaches. I tended to go to her games, since she attended all my concerts when I was playing. I was even starting to really understand the game of softball, though it still did not appeal to me.

Back when she started, our first year of middle school, she tried to get me into it too. I went to a few of the practices, but I was uncoordinated and scared of the ball and I hate to run. Needless to say, I stopped going. Em always told me she didn't mind that softball wasn't my “thing,” She just wanted me to have a “thing,” if it wasn't going to be piano. Well, I disappointed her in that, too. I never found anything else.

Anyway, today was important. If the high school coaches liked what they saw, they might want someone as a player for their team. Em desperately wanted to be recruited. She wanted to make varsity when we moved on to high school in a few months. Maybe she would - she really was good.

She came to sit by me during one of the breaks. Her short hair was plastered to her forehead from the heat and from running around, but she had a big grin on her face. She really loved to run around and get sweaty, always had. That’s just Em. She opened her mouth to say something to me, but I raised my brows and interrupted her. “Em?”

She frowned a bit, but then followed my gaze over her shoulder, and saw the man striding towards us. She whirled around and straightened up quickly, hands going behind her back. I stayed seated on the bleachers, trying to blend in. This was Em’s moment. “Emily Stammets?” he drawled. I noticed there was a little girl clinging to his shorts, probably six years old. She had golden curls, done up in pigtails and a little pink dress. She peeked around the man’s leg and our eyes met.

“Yes sir!” Em was saying. “Uh, that is… I go by Em.”

“Right. I’ve seen you play. You’re fast, Em. And what's more important, you have impeccable aim.” I couldn't really see her face now, but I could imagine Em blushing faintly. She was always flustered by compliments.

“Th-thank you, sir!” The little girl broke eye contact with me at that moment and stepped forward to stick out her hand to Em.

“I’m Annie, and my daddy wants you to play softball with him,” she announced. Em giggled and played along, shaking the girl’s hand.

“Oh, really? That would be great, Annie. I happen to love softball. Do you play too?” Em was a charmer; she could get along with anyone. I stared at my feet.

“No!” The child sounded horrified, and I looked up at that, smiling faintly. That would be just about my reaction. “I play piano.” My smile froze.

The coach was chuckling, patting his daughter on the head. “No, she's not much for sports. She’s only here because of me. But she actually is a genius at the piano.” He beamed, a proud father. I shriveled, but secretly, I wished the little girl luck.

“Oh yeah?” Em asked. She had on her extra charm now, she was trying to suck up. She wanted that spot on the high school team. I thought it was probably already hers. That's why the coach approached her, wasn't it? “That's great! You must have started her with lessons young. Alexa did too, she was only three.” I shrank down in my seat as much as possible, but it didn't matter. Em had waved my way, and now I had three sets of eyes on me. I gave a weak wave.

“That was my Annie,” the coach nodded. “Three years old, but she would sit through a whole lesson. Now she doesn't have a teacher though, the last one said there was nothing more she could teach. She gave me info for a music school, but it all seems like a lot, when Annie’s so young.”

“I want to learn,” the girl said boldly. She made a fierce face. I was staring at her, so when she turned my way, our eyes met. She just looked at me, but I swallowed, feeling guilty.

Em was chewing her lip, as if considering something. I hated that look. I got a cold feeling in my heart, and sure enough, she said something terrible. “You know, maybe Alexa here could teach her. She actually played at state level, but now she has lots of free time.” The coach turned my way. Em turned my way. The little girl Annie was still looking at me solemnly.

I didn't say anything. I wanted to say no, I could not do that, under any circumstances. I wanted to stop that idea in its tracks. But my body was frozen and that little girl just kept staring at me with wide, innocent eyes. And finally, she spoke directly to me: “I want to play.”

“Would you be willing to try?” the coach asked. “You don't have to, of course. But I would pay someone to come over once a week and work with her.”

I knew that feeling. That need . It was a need, I could see it in her eyes. This wasn't some bored little girl; I could feel kinship between us. And really, I had no choice. I could not deny to someone else what had been denied to me. “I can teach her. I don't need any money, it would be good practice for me, actually.”

The coach raised his brows. “Well, I can definitely pay you. In fact, maybe we could exchange numbers and discuss this later? I should get back to work.” He chuckled and patted his daughter on the head. She was still watching me. I slowly stood up and got my phone out. “And Em? The real reason I came over here wasn't for a piano teacher for Annie, though I do thank you for the reference. I actually wanted to invite you to come practice with our team for a few weeks, see how you fit.”

Em’s eyes grew wide. She flailed her hands a moment, not sure what to do, and ended up sticking out her hand to shake it. “I would love to, sir! Thank you very much for the opportunity!” The coach shook her hand, typed my number into his phone, and then went on his way, his little girl trailing after. It was all over so fast.

I sighed and looked at Em. She was about to burst with excitement. I summoned a smile and told her, “Congratulations.”

“And you too, Alexa!” she chirped. I shook my head.

“You pushed me into it,” I said.

She shook her head right back. “I gave you an opening. You went for it all by yourself.” Her grin grew huge. “I'm really proud of you…” She hugged me suddenly, and my arms were trapped by my side, so I couldn't even reciprocate if I wanted to. When she let go, she added, “This is going to be good for you, I just know it.”

***~***

I walked to my first ever piano lesson as the teacher. It turned out, Annie Evans only lived a few blocks from me and she had a piano at her house. It worked out well that her parents felt more comfortable with me going over there, because I didn't want anyone else touching my piano. Mama’s piano.

I had done a little research and dug around to find a few of my old piano books. I brought some from all levels, because I really wasn’t sure where this girl’s skill actually stood. Once I saw her play, I would probably have a better idea of what to teach her, and her parents said they would buy whatever books I recommended, within reason.

When I found the house, I hesitated outside the door, afraid to knock. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to be here. And once that door opened, there was no going back. As it stood, I could still back out and run away. I took a deep breath and knocked firmly.

The door opened after too short of a pause, and Annie herself stood there, face eager and awed. I opened my mouth, but then I wasn’t sure what to say to this child who looked at me like I was something wonderful. I just stood there with my mouth slightly open for a moment and was saved by her mother showing up behind her. She wore a warm smile and a pink apron.

“Alexa! Thank you so much for coming. Annie has been so excited to play again, she hasn’t talk about anything else for days.” I smiled and chuckled politely. “Well! Come on inside.” I stepped over the threshold and looked around.

The house looked warm, more lived in than I was used to. The front hallway was short and covered with a slightly stained Moroccan-style rug. There were pictures hung on the wall, some obviously of Annie, though many were baby pictures or of a younger version of the girl. There was also a boy, a little older, and of course the parents.

I probably stared for too long at the display of domesticity because Mrs. Evan's made a small sound and joined me. “Ah. You found our Family Wall. I know it's a little hectic, but I find it really nice to have all our good memories right there to look at.”

I glanced at her. Our walls at home only had tasteful art on them. There was only one picture of Mama in the house, and it was in a frame on my dresser. My father didn't like to see it. As for baby pictures of me? I knew we had them somewhere, but I had never seen father even look at them, much less put them up. He was far too busy and serious to care about that sort of thing. Finally, I smiled at Mrs. Evans, strangely feeling more comfortable. “Yeah,” I told her. “It is nice. You all look really happy.”

Annie bounced impatiently on her toes behind us. I turned around and she took a few steps backwards into their slightly messy living room. Along one wall stood a full size Yamaha piano. I followed her into the room hesitantly and Mrs. Evans came too, but she stopped at the doorway.

“All right-y, girls. You can just get to it, if you want. Alexa, is there anything you need?”

I shook my head. “No, ma'am. I should be fine.” Mrs. Evans gave us a blinding smile and rubbed her hands together.

“Okay! I'll be in the kitchen if you need me,” she told us, and then turned on her heel and left the room. I sat down slowly at the piano bench and Annie plopped down right next to me.

I looked at the piano as I started to talk. “So… I want to figure out where you are in your learning. I was thinking you could play a few pieces for me. So is there anything you have memorized that you can play right now?”

The little girl turned to me and grinned. “Yeah, I know lots!”

I smiled back. “Okay. Why don't you just start out with one of your favorites?” Her enthusiasm was already warming me up too. As she nodded her head, her golden curls bounced around her face. Then, she turned to the keys and screwed her face up in a show of concentration. It was not long before I recognized In The Hall of the Mountain King by Grieg. I laughed, but only on the inside.

She was actually fairly talented for a little kid playing from memory. She was a little too enthusiastic about it and her small fingers fudged some of the notes. Still, she didn't just pound on the keys and she seemed to have a decent grasp of the melody. When she finished, I gave her a smile. “Very good,” I told her simply.

Mama never gave me many compliments, because she said there was always something to improve. Also, that way if I did a really good job on something, she could compliment me and it felt really special; I knew I did well. Now, I knew I wanted to become a teacher like my mother.

“Okay, you knew that one pretty well, I think. Let's see what you can do when you see something new.” The lesson continued on rather smoothly after that.

I hadn't know how I would be as a teacher, but I felt like I just instinctively knew how to help Annie. She had some talent, but there was still plenty I could think of to teach her. Most importantly, she clearly loved the music, and we shared that bond. When I tried to explain something to her, she would listen raptly and do her best to understand.

Afterwards, Mrs. Evans paid me, as we had agreed. It was a convenient bonus, but I realized I would have been happy to teach Annie for free. I walked home with a much better attitude than the nervous wreck I had been on the way there. Unfortunately, I had a confession to make.

***~***

I called Em sheepishly later that night. “Well?” she asked when she picked up the phone. “How did it go?”

I snorted. “Yeah, yeah, you were right. Don't make a big deal out of it.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. I wondered if we got cut off, and then, in a very genuine tone, I heard, “Really? Alexa, that's great news!”

I hummed softly. “I guess. She's a sweet girl, and… it just makes her so happy to play.”

“And she reminds you of yourself?” Em asked quietly. I shrugged, uncomfortable. Sometimes having a best friend who knew you well, meant they were too perceptive.

“I don't know. Maybe. But that's not me anymore.”

“Alexa…”

I sighed. “Look, Em. Today was really fun, and I want to keep teaching this little girl. But that doesn't mean I am going to perform again. Don't make this about that.”

Em didn't say anything, but I could tell she was upset. I couldn't do anything about it though. This was my life, and I… I needed to stay away from the stage. I could hear the music while I taught Annie. I wanted it to stay like that.

“Okay,” Em said eventually. “Fine. I'm really glad you enjoyed yourself, Alexa.”

“Thanks,” I answered her, and we had an uncomfortable moment until she changed the subject.

***~***

Weeks later, I was tossing softballs for Em to practice her swing. I protested sometimes that she should practice with someone else who could actually get the ball to the right spot more than fifty percent of the time, but she insisted that she didn't care and that I was her best friend and she would rather hang out with me. So most of the time now, I didn't even complain. And if I had to be completely honest, my aim was probably improving.

I lost myself in the repetition of retrieving the ball and then throwing it back, so I was surprised when Em said something. “Huh?” I asked, not so intelligently.

“I said I made the team.” She had her bat up, over her shoulder, not looking at me. The breeze was ruffling her short hair. She looked serious, and she looked like a real athlete. I smiled wide, even though she couldn't see me.

“That's amazing, Em! Why didn't you tell me?” I hadn't thrown the ball yet, and I figured she was going to complain about that any moment. But this was big news! She made the high school team.

“I'm telling you now,” she answered, barely audible. I wrinkled my brow, confused about her reticence. She let the bat drop from her shoulder and started to walk towards me. I supposed I was not going to be throwing the ball after all. “I’ve only known for a couple days, Alexa,” she said wearily.

I shook my head, still thoroughly confused. “You don’t seem very excited about this,” I observed, hoping to elicit an explanation.

She sighed and then… unexpectedly, she hugged me. I sort of just stood there, awkwardly accepting the hug, but not returning it. Just as I started to lift my arms, realizing that I was not being a normal, adjusted person, she let me go and stepped back, cocking her head.

“Em?” I asked, very hesitant.

“It’s not that I’m not excited. This is great news for me… it’s you, Alexa.”

I blinked. I opened and closed my mouth. Then I opened it again. “You really don’t have to worry about me, Em. I’m fine. I’m happy for you!” It was true, too. I really was happy. My best friend was having her dreams come true. This moment shouldn’t be about me.

Em scowled. “Maybe I don’t have to worry about you, but I do anyway. I’m going to join the team, Alexa, and I won’t have as much free time anymore. We practice every day. And you… I really thought you would find something good in these piano lessons. I was hoping. But you…”

“I don’t need it!” I say, creeping towards irritation.

“You don’t need what?” she asked, sounding exasperated and looking tired.

I grit my teeth, annoyed, but not sure what the problem was, beyond just the general “everything” that Em was doing. “I don’t need…” You , I almost said, but that wasn’t true. I didn’t want Em to leave me or anything like that, and the fact that those words almost left my lips sort of horrified me. “It’s just… the piano. Everything from before. I’m fine. I don’t need it anymore.” I end a lot more sullen than before, and I stare back down at the grass.

“Really,” Em said, her voice flat. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you are happy. Tell me that this is the life you want to live.” I looked up at her, helpless. I couldn’t do that and we both knew it. I couldn’t do it and be honest with her. I wasn’t happy, not like I wanted to be. But I wasn’t sad , for the first time since Mama died. I wasn’t sad, and I just wanted to hold onto that. I didn’t want to ruin it.

I couldn’t say anything, but Em must have read something in my eyes, because she sighed and backed down. She kicked at the dirt and then turned around.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s just get back to tossing.” I nodded wordlessly, even though she was already walking back to her place.

***~***

I had only been teaching Annie for two months when I ran across flyers for the competition. I grabbed one without even thinking about it, though. I knew she could do well. Maybe she wasn’t quite up to speed, maybe she wouldn’t win, but she could use the experience and the exposure. Because she would win, eventually. I knew that much.

When I came to her house later that week, I waited until after the lesson to pull out the sheet. In the short time I had known her, we had gained pretty good rapport. She was a fun kid, she talked a lot, but she knew when to hold in her silliness and focus, because she truly wanted to learn , more than anything. We understood each other. Annie loved the music. She loved to play, she loved to hear me play. She loved every new thing I taught her. She practiced when I was gone without complaint. Frankly, she was probably the best six-year-old piano student I could have ever dreamed up. But in the end, she was still six. She was a little kid, so I saved what I figured would be exciting news until the end.

I showed her the sheet of paper while we sat together on the bench, but I knew she couldn’t read all the words, so I explained it to her too. “You would be playing any piece you choose, and I would help you prepare, of course. The judges would compare you to the other contestants based on how well you play. They have a whole list of rules for earning and losing points, but you don’t need to worry about that. There will be lots of other kids, but you don’t need to worry about winning, you just do your best. What do you think?”

She looked a bit more apprehensive than I expected. She bit her lip and hummed quietly, looking over the sheet of paper. “Umm… It says ages 5-18. I might not be very good, because I’ll be younger than almost everyone.” She slid her hands under her legs and looked away. I hadn’t seen her so uncertain about her skills before.

“No, Annie, that’s not a problem at all! They’ll do different competitions, based on age groups. The oldest person you’ll play against will be maybe eight. And then the older kids will have their own group. You’ll be fine!” I smiled at her and she looked up at me, very tentatively turning her lips up.

“Will you do it? You’re a kid too.” Oh. The world slows down as I realized Annie had no idea about my past. And how was I going to explain it to her, a little kid? I would just scare her away from competing. But she was so bright, she didn’t deserve that!

I took a deep breath in and then let it out in a rush. “No, I won’t be entering. I… don’t do competitions.”

Annie cocked her head. “Why not? You’re really good, Alexa. Way better than me. I bet you could win!”

I made a dry sound that could barely be called a laugh. “I… um, I used to play in competitions, when I was your age. But it’s just… it’s not really for me anymore.”

The little girl frowned, her blue eyes going very serious. I felt… well, something. My stomach churned and it was probably some combination of emotions: guilt, fear, shame. They would be the strongest. I knew what she was about to say, like my life was a movie I had seen many times before. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“If you aren’t going to do it, I don’t want to, either,” she told me with a shrug. It still hurt to hear it. I did not want to be the one holding this little girl back. I remembered what it was like to compete, back before I stopped. Even before Mama got sick. I would be nervous beforehand, but I would get all dressed up, and that made me feel good. Walking out onto the stage all alone was the hardest part. But then I would sit down at shiny the grand piano and the rest of the world would just fade away. The sound was beautiful, way better than my piano at home. That was because of the acoustics in the auditorium, Mama explained to me after the first time. That, and piano always sounds better when you have an audience. I wasn’t really sure about that second part, but it sure felt amazing afterwards when I would bow and the whole crowd would applaud. Still, for me, it wasn’t about the applause or the praise. It wasn’t about winning, like I always told my fellow competitors. It was about the way the song would come alive in the huge, silent room and fill every space with color and warmth. It was exhilarating. And if my suspicions were correct, Annie would get that same high. In fact, I suspected that she would truly understand what Mama said about the piano sounding better with an audience. I couldn’t explain it, but I really wanted Annie to be at that concert.

But I knew what it felt like to be pressured when you don’t want to go.

I let out a sigh. “I can’t do it, Annie. I don’t compete anymore, but I think you’ll really like it. I won’t make you go if you really don’t want to, but I’m going to talk to your parents about it, and maybe they can talk to you about it, okay?”

Annie shook her head and clenched a fist. She was actually upset. “I don’t want to! If you can’t go, then I can’t either. I wanna be just like you, Alexa!” Her voice was rising, almost to a shout.

I swallowed hard. You don’t , I thought at her. You don’t want to be anything like me. But I couldn’t exactly tell her that either. Before I could figure out what to tell her, Mrs. Evans appeared at the doorway.

“Is everything alright, girls?” she asked gently with a frown. I felt embarrassed now, on top of everything else. I wanted to just go home and throw myself on my bed. Instead I stood up and explained to Mrs. Evans what had happened. Annie actually started crying and I felt awful as she cried out, “I don’t wanna go, Mommy!”

Mrs. Evans picked up her daughter with a heavy sigh and Annie buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. I looked away, thinking I might cry too if I didn’t get out soon. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I wanted at all.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Evans, I didn’t -” I tried to explain, but the older woman just smiled at me and put a warm hand on my shoulder.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she told me, like I hadn’t just made her daughter cry. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Annie’s probably just tired. I’ll talk to her, okay? It’s not your fault.”

I blinked, thinking of my own mother, for some reason. Even though I imagined Mama would just be disappointed in me for running away from performing, and for turning another little girl away from it too. “Okay,” I whispered.

“I’ll hold onto that flyer and take a look at it, Alexa. Thank you. We’ll see you next week, right?”

“Okay,” I repeated, a little more sure this time. I forced myself to smile, because I was honestly a little surprised she wasn’t asking me to never come back. She walked me out the door, whispering hushed comforts to Annie on the way. I walked home in a fog and went straight to my room, where I might have let out some of those emotions in the form of tears.

***~***

It took me three days. After four years of avoiding the stage like my life depended on it (it almost did), it took me only three days to decide to go back. All because one little girl whose love for the piano rivaled my own and her need of a role model. I wasn’t forced into it; it was a culmination of everything, really. Em, my best friend, and her stark concern for my happiness. Annie’s insistence that she won’t enter the contest unless I do, paired with my own desire to see her shine. Mama, who pushed and fought and screamed for me to be the best, and the knowledge of how fiercely disappointed she would be with me now. Myself, reluctantly accepting that Mama was wrong to treat my so harshly. The piano, singing to me, calling me back.

And the deafness? When I performed and couldn’t hear the notes? Maybe that was tied in with Mama dying. Maybe I have grown up and I will be able to hear again. But if not, I can play in silence. It might not be my best performance, but I can practice, and I can do it. For Annie’s sake, to show her that the stage is not something to fear. Even if it was for me.

I wanted Mama back so badly. She had been harsh and even sometimes cruel in those last few months, but she was still my mama. I loved her. And in the end, all she really wanted was for me to be the best pianist I could be. That was what I wanted too. So I missed her fiercely, but -

I was free. I could play the piano as I pleased, without fearing making a mistake. I could perform and compete again without any need to win. I could play the piano for myself, and I could be happy with it. Mama had been slowly ruining the source of beauty and color and warmth in my life, and with her gone, I was free.

And that truth was terrifying. I was horrified and I could not accept it. Looking back on my life, I could see it. I could accept that I both loved my mother and was glad when she was gone, at the same time. It was… uncomfortable, but it was okay. And I think, somewhere in my brain, that was what caused me to stop hearing the music.

It was awful. Just… overall, the whole situation was awful. But I was thirteen. I was going to high school very soon. It was time, I supposed to just accept that it was awful and move on. Because the bottom line was that I wanted Annie to have her best chance, and for that, I would have to play.

***~***

My next scheduled lesson with Annie, I showed up shy, embarrassed, and very nervous. Luckily she was just as happy to see me as normal, and we got to work on warm-ups right away. I kept shifting in my seat while I listened to her, and I finally decided to just tell her. “I’m going to do the competition, Annie,” I blurted.

She stopped her playing immediately and turned to me with wide eyes. She licked her lips, and then slowly started a tiny smile. “Me too? Are we going to do it together?” she finally asked.

I swallowed. “Do you want to?”

“Yes!” she shouted. “We’ll go together and I will listen to you and you can listen to me and we won’t be scared at all!” I smiled at her, endeared. I would be scared, of course. Terrified. But I could push through it. All I had to do was play my piece. I wouldn’t have to hear it, I wouldn’t have to win. Just play the piece, and I would be done.

***~***

I chose to play Mama’s favorite song, Liebesleid, or Love’s Sorrow. It made sense, in the end. It was written by a German composer, Fritz Kreisler. I knew it already, Mama taught me of course, so it wouldn’t be too stressful to pick up again and polish it off.

I helped Annie choose a song too, and that’s where most of my energy went, helping her perfect the piece as much as she could. I talked to her about what to wear and how to act and how it would feel. I talked to her parents, too, of course. And I talked to Em. I didn’t really want people to know I was playing. I didn’t know how it would go, but probably poorly, and I didn’t need any more witnesses. But Em… she was different. She deserved to know. She did her best to act casual, but I could tell she was excited. She would definitely be there, in the audience, and maybe that would actually be a bit of a comfort.

So, quicker than I ever anticipated, performance day came. My blood pounded through my heart like icy rivers of fear. I knew my song backward and forward, top to bottom, front to back. I could play it in my sleep. Many times, I practiced on a table, just so I knew what it would be like, playing with no sound. I knew my song. But I was still terrified.

Still, I had to put on a brave front for Annie. I was wearing a plain dress, long a dark blue. I had put all my hair up in a bun, just to keep it out of my eyes, not that I really needed my eyes to play. Em was with me, holding my hand, smiling at me. She was my sole support, but she was more than enough.

“You look really nice, Alexa.”

“What?” I asked her, feeling overwhelmed. After a moment, though, I realized what she had said and I blushed. Sometimes, she came up with the most random things!

“That’s not the point of today,” I told her, voice coming out monotone.

She laughed and shrugged carefree shoulders. She wasn’t afraid at all. “I know. But you still look pretty.”

I huffed. “What time is it? We should go find Annie.” I tugged on her hand, but I didn’t have to tug hard. She followed me easily.

Annie’s group played first. Mine would be later, in a couple hours. Annie had come with her parents, of course, but I had promised to meet her beforehand to wish her good luck. We wove slowly through the crowds together and finally, I spotted my little student. She had her curly hair tied up in neat pigtails and she wore a poofy red dress. She looked adorable. And she looked so excited. If I needed it at all, this gave me more reassurance that I had done the right thing. I didn’t even have to force a grin onto my face as I walked up and called her name. I was happy for her.

“Alexa! You’re here!” Annie pulled away from her mom and ran over to give me a hug. She was probably getting sparkles on my dress, but I didn’t care.

“Of course I am,” I told her. “Are you ready to rock?” She giggled as she looked up at me.

“Yes!” she shouted, pumping a little fist.

Em chuckled next to me, and I ignored her when she leaned over and whispered into my ear. “Alexa, are you ready to rock?”

After Annie’s group was called backstage to prepare, Em and I rushed to find seats. We found two together near the back and I grinned over at my friend. “I’m actually pretty nervous for her sake too,” I admitted. Em smiled.

“Well, I’m not. I know her teacher, so I know she’s going to do great.” I rolled my eyes and blushed again, but luckily the lights were turning down, so she probably missed it.

“I hope so,” I whispered. “I want her to get a good first impression.”

“It’s different, seeing you so invested in someone else’s performance. But I’m glad you found her, Alexa. I think it’s been good for you.”

I had no idea what to say to that, even though I agreed with her. My nerves were just too high to give a very thoughtful response, so I just shrugged and waited as someone came out to do an introduction speech.

Annie’s performance was early on, but she did so well, it stuck in my mind. I hoped that meant it would stick in the judges’ minds too. She played with more enthusiasm than she ever had at her home, I thought. I was so proud.

When all the children had finished (and theirs was the largest group), we had to wait a little while as the scores were compiled. We found Annie and her parents and the five of us waited mostly quietly, Em and Mr. Evans talking quietly about something for the softball team. Finally, winners were announced. I squealed right along with Annie when her name was called for first place. Her mother turned to thank me almost right away and she gave me a warm hug that melted some of the ice in my veins.

Once the initial excitement faded, her parents invited us to a celebratory ice cream, and we agreed, since my time slot wasn’t for a few hours. The Evans insisted on paying for both me and Em as a thank you, and we agreed bashfully. We had fun and I was sufficiently distracted for a while. But then we got back to the venue and I had only half an hour before it was time for me to go back. This was really happening.

The Evans left with Annie to go find a seat, but Em said she would stay with me up until the last minute. None of the others knew how nervous I really was and what this meant to me. I hadn’t told them. But Em had been with me from the beginning, even before Mama first got sick. Em knew everything, and she noticed when my breathing began to speed up.

She wrapped an arm around me, but I stayed stiff as a board. “Alexa, take a deep breath.” I tried to obey. “It’s okay. You can totally bomb this, earn very last place, and it won’t matter. You don’t need to win. You don’t need to even do well. You just need to get up there. The first time is always the hardest, right?”

I nodded. And she was right, this might as well be my first time on stage. The last time I performed, my whole world was different. Today wasn’t for Mama, though I sort of hoped she was out there somewhere and could listen. I hoped she could find it in herself to be proud. I was going back, after all. But today wasn’t for her. And it wasn’t for Annie, even though that was how it started. No, Annie had already played and won in her own right. She didn’t need me to play anymore. This was for myself. I didn’t have high expectations. I just wanted to get up there, break the ice. I wanted to see if maybe I could go back to the world I loved.

“Thanks, Em,” I murmured after breathing slowly for a minute. She smiled, and stayed quiet. I appreciated it. I need time to prepare myself. And then, before long, they called us back. Em hugged me and then waved as I walked away, like I was leaving on a long trip. I actually let out a small giggle.

In the back, where my group waited, there were quite a few other kids my age. I ignored them all, just focused on my breathing. But one of them walked up to me, and even though I didn’t open my eyes or acknowledge him, he spoke to me.

“Are you… Alexa Fukunaga?” My eyes flew open and I took in the pimply redhead stand in front of me. Even though I hadn’t seen his face in four years, and he looked different, the red hair sort of gave him away. That, and the obnoxious smirk on his face. “It is! Alexa Fukunaga, you’re back in the scene.” He still had on that smirk, but his voice wavered a little bit.

He was one of my rivals, back then. One of the better players, one that could have won, maybe, if I hadn’t always won. He never liked me much. He was one of those who teased me when I failed and dropped out of the public eye. When I stopped hearing the piano and stopped performing. However, he didn’t know the story. He was never my friend, so he didn’t know why I left. And now, seeing me again, he was probably a little intimidated. He probably thought he was going to win and now he was worried I would snatch first place from him.

I didn’t care. Today wasn’t about anyone else. Today was about me, and about getting on the stage and just… playing my song. That’s all. I closed my eyes again and went back to breathing. I could sense him there in front of me and I did my best to ignore his presence.

“Ignore me all you want, but you’re forgetting. I’ve been practicing this whole time. I am ranked first for our age group now. You are up against more than you can handle now.” He spat all this out and walked away. I didn’t care. He might be right, but I didn’t care about winning. I sat there, quietly breathing, until they called my name.

I stood up, feeling a little dizzy for just a moment. I walked across the room, through the hallway. I waited behind the curtain, listening to the applause form whoever had played before me. I waited until the announcer said my name. Said my piece. And then I walked out on the stage, the silence of the auditorium loud in my ears.

I still had no idea if I would hear my notes. I was calm, under control, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t still terrified. I placed my fingers on the ivory keys. I took a deep breath. I played my first E. Nothing. There was no sound. So I kept playing.

It was the same as it always had been. No sound came out of the piano. I had gathered my courage, faced my demons. I was on stage again. I was performing. But I still couldn’t hear the music. I hadn’t realized how much hope I had gained for this performance. I had really thought that something would change.

Disappointment struck into my heart and it hurt. Fear clouded my senses and the world started to fade, like it always had. My world narrowed down, the darkness seemed to close in, the silence seemed to grow. But I was not going to give up. I wasn’t nine anymore, and I wasn’t going to be scared of silence. So I kept my finger moving. I knew what pace to keep. My metronome in my head was gone but I knew the song from muscle memory. I was going to finish.

And then… the darkness started to recede. I was still on stage; I was still performing. I couldn’t hear the slow sorrowful tones that I hoped were moving to my audience, but I didn’t let the terror take over. And it was… okay. It wasn’t easy, likely never would be, but it was okay. I was okay. Mama would be proud, I thought to myself. I was playing her favorite song, and I knew I was doing it justice.

After that quiet moment of epiphany, my heart started to calm and I heard it. I realized in that moment that the notes were there, the piano was always there, I just wasn’t listening to the right thing. When I blocked out the fear, I could hear the piano. And colors flooded my world. My notes were a little robotic, nothing huge, but just a tiny bit too staccato. I sent a mental apology to Mama, but I was smiling as I put my heart into the music, and the song shifted into exactly what it was supposed to be.

The second half of my performance was perfect. I knew that without a doubt. Tears were streaming down my face when I finished and bowed and left the stage, but I didn’t even care. I was so happy. It was beyond words; I would need a piano to express this feeling. I was home .

Even though I went into the bathroom and cleaned my face, when I met Em outside again, she knew I had heard it again. She ran out and squeezed me against herself so hard I could barely breathe. “I heard it, Em,” I told her, even though she obviously knew. “It’s back.”

“I know,” she whispered into my hair. “I heard it too. It was beautiful. You were beautiful. It’s not the music that’s back, Alexa. You’re back!”

I laughed and pulled away to wipe at fresh tears. I squeezed my hands into fists and my smile turned wobbly. “I think Mama heard too.”

Em just smiled, but I knew she understood.

I had to get myself under control again when Mrs. Evan called out my name, or I might owe her an explanation. I hugged Annie back and listened to her babble about how great I was, how I would win first place, how we would be winners together. I thanked Mr. and Mrs. Evans as they complimented me. I went through all the motions, even as I felt crazy as all the adrenaline drained from my body. Em took my hand and it grounded me.

The whole world still looked over-bright around me. I wanted nothing more than to go home and play, play, play. I didn’t care about waiting for any scores, but I knew all four of my companions did, so I tried to wait patiently.

I placed fourth. Not amazing, but right near the middle of the pack. Frankly, I knew I could do better, I just needed more practice. It had been a while. Still, I wasn’t concerned. No one was yelling at me for my mistakes. No one was expecting better from me. Maybe that redhead, who looked very satisfied with his first place win. I didn’t mind at all.

Em was over the moon with excitement, and even though Annie stomped her little foot in anger, it was more cute than anything. She just wanted the best for me. She would understand one day. Maybe I would teach her.

You play for yourself, not for anyone else.

That’s the only way to really hear the music.