Chromatic Fugue
an excerpt

The elaborate melody flowed within the walls and enveloped her, as her slender fingers scaled the octaves of black and white keys. The song of love and dreams flowed around her, an all-familiar sound in her heart. Liebestraume III was by far her favourite and most cherished song. Yet she was having problems reading the notes on the sheet before her, the elaborate phrases and quavers dotting the sheets. Everything was becoming rather blurry as unhappy memories were spilling from the beautiful melody.

Her fingers continued gracefully gliding along, creating the ‘legato’ melody. As she reached the point where she could no longer carry on playing without feeling the overwhelming emotions, she stopped playing. Wiping her face from the salty trails on her cheeks, she changed her tune to the Prelude in E Minor. The melody surrounded her, keeping her safe from her solemn emotions and solitude.

Estelle’s love for piano had started as a child, watching professional concerts and sitting by the radio listening to classical music with her father. The appeal of the beautiful black instrument had faded from her over the years, but resurfaced again when she listened to the melodies reminding her of her childhood.

She played at school, in a little room. It was in the corner of the school lounge, with a sign: “Piano Room”. It made her feel segregated from the ‘professional’ players at her school. Yet in a way, she sadly admitted to herself that she was somewhat inferior to those with such talent and grace, that they could compete with their musical talent. She hated musical competitions, and she hated performing under bright lights, and she hated performing for an audience greater than 2.

Estelle was 17 when she first experienced a first ‘real’ love, as she’d like to put it. High school never counted, in her opinion. She considered them ‘puppy love’, insignificant points in her life where a boy would come in as quickly as they eventually leave. To her, relationships were just a vicious cycle of heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak. Was it really worth it to fall in love when you know it will only end with another broken heart?

She always thought about it, and eventually as she grew up and came out of her introverted shell, Estelle took a chance. It was a chance to be with another wonderful piano player, so much better than herself. She relished in his constant attention, his praise and his sweet demeanour towards her. In a way, whenever she looks back, she always felt that it was impossible for her not to admire (or fall in love) with such a wonderful guy.

Michael was a piano prodigy, learning piano at the age of 3 and being able to memorize five page sonatas at the age of 13. By the time he was 16 he was teaching the piano as a small part time job for his own pocket money. Although he was able to memorize sheet after sheet after sheet of musical notation, he would always play the same sonata whenever Estelle saw him. It was also the first time she had ever heard that song, so naturally she would attribute it back to him.

But the first time she had met him, it was a quiet and strange encounter. She sat in her own company one sunny autumn afternoon, playing the elaborate melody of Liebestraume III by Franz Liszt. Her fingers daintily pressing the keys, her mind filled with countless potential love stories and dreams. Her thoughts drew her away from the piano room, so far that she didn’t hear the small creaking of the door, or the footsteps across the small cramped room. Suddenly she felt the presence of another in the room, and her face began to flush; she was always self-conscious of her piano playing. She wanted to finish the song faster but it would ruin the song and the moment. And so she continued playing the elaborate melody, allowing the innocent bystander to admire her ‘talent’.

As she finished, her hands stayed frozen on the keys, her face still flushed from embarrassment. She wondered if she should turn around and acknowledge his presence (for she knew it was a guy from the corner of her eye), or stay mute and rooted in place until he left her alone. As she waited, she realized he wasn’t going to leave until she said something, anything. Or until she turned around to meet his eyes. Somewhat reluctantly, Estelle turned to face him. Michael, the piano prodigy. She wondered what to say or what to do, but when she opened wanted to her open her mouth, she couldn’t. Instead, she gave him a small smile. He smiled back, and she was still at a loss of words. “Oh Lord, what did I do to get myself into this situation?” She turned back to the piano and flipped through her music scores. Michael took a few steps closer until his shadow hit the sheets. She stopped flipping the pages.

“Estelle…” he started. She turned to look at him, not knowing what to say. “That was really good. You play really well.”
“I…I do? I mean, no I don’t…uh, I mean thank you!” she replied, turning bright red again. When she looked at him he was smiling that beautiful smile of his.
“You’re so cute. I don’t know why you don’t think you play well. But in any case, practice always makes perfect. But I already think you play perfectly.”

She looked at the watch and realized that she was 10 minutes late to class. Scrambling to get all her sheets into her bag, Michael opened the door for her and smiled as she dashed out.

“I hope to see you again soon. I hope.”

She turned around, but he was already walking off in the other direction. She wondered about his words before turning the other way and rushing to class. But she didn’t seem to care that she was late for class, because every minute that had just passed made her happier than she had ever been before. Michael, the piano prodigy, thought she was cute. And that was all that she could concentrate on for the rest of the day.