Robin stared blankly at the instrument in front of her. The words of her orchestra teacher echo in her head unceasingly:
“I understand that you have priorities outside of the orchestra...but honestly with the way you’re playing right now, I can’t have you play for the Nutcracker. I know you can play better than this.”
Mrs. Oumae had always praised Robin for her playing but this was the first time that she had ever criticized her. Not that Robin was upset at Mrs. Oumae for criticizing her, she knew more than anyone that her playing wasn’t as good as it used to be–no, that it was getting worse.
Robin picked up the instrument and tried to play a few notes, but the notes that came out
stumbled, tripping and falling over. How lame.
Robin stared at the instrument.The foreign object seemed to be mocking her for her inadequate playing. Why was this so hard? She used to be so good at this.
This thing that once felt so familiar to her now just felt like another toy meant to be thrown away.
Did she even want to keep playing anymore?
A memory barges into Robin’s head, unannounced, plunging Robin head first to a scene she had almost forgotten...
--8 years ago--
Alyssa was insane. She was practically barrelling down the hill, rushing to find a perfect seat for Blossom's music concert. Even after spending the majority of their lives together, Robin still felt like Alyssa had to be something other than human. How one person could have so much energy was beyond Robin’s 9-year-old brain. She watched in horror as Alyssa seemingly teleported from place to place, hunting for the perfect spot to place a mat.
When she finally found a spot she was happy with, she confidently waited there with a smug expression for her mom to place the mat down.
“Alright girls, you girls wait here while I quickly go to the bathroom”
Robin and Alyssa nodded obediently as they plopped down onto the mat. Once Alyssa’s mom was out of sight, Robin turned to Alyssa and glared at her with the ferocity of a chihuahua.
“Can you remind me again why I'm here? I understand that you and your mom are classical music nerds, but why am I here? You said you were going to take me somewhere cool! This isn’t cool! This is boring!!”
"Oh come on, don’t be like that. It’ll be cool, I promise you~"
“That’s-” But before she could say anything Alyssa’s mom came back, forcing Robin to save her barrage of insults for later.
The orchestra begins. Compared to the elated faces of Alyssa and her mom, Robin was having none of it.
“It’s just a bunch of pretty noise,” Robin thought to herself as she stuffed another handful of
chips in her mouth. “What's so special about it?”
The song starts slow–way too slow, like watching paint dry type of slow–but gets faster and
faster, swelling, swelling, swelling until... complete and utter silence. It’s like time stays still for a moment, frozen with everyone’s held in breaths hanging in the air. Then a clear, powerful melody rings out, bringing everyone back to the present. A lone, slender figure plays. With complete mastery of her instrument, she packs a million different emotions in each bow stroke, intricately weaving a whole new world. Robin was fully enraptured. Now, she could see castles and unicorns, wizards and witches, and so much more! With each new movement, the orchestra flowed into, Robin's eyes widened as she saw a myriad of different worlds and creatures. So this was what was so special.
The car ride back home was magical. The air seemed to buzz with excitement, everything
seemed possible.
The two girls eagerly chatted away about their future adventures.
“We’ll be the greatest violinists ever! I was right, right? I bet we can be just as good as the lady that played today” Alyssa declared.
Robin laughed and looked up at the stars, seeing the countless castles to be built and hearing the new symphonies to be played.
“Hmm... no, I think we’ll be even better!”
----
Alyssa quit violin two years ago.
In fact, Alyssa and Robin haven’t spoken to each other in years.
It was hard to imagine that the two of them had been that close so many years ago. It wasn’t that the two had some major fight or anything like that. The divide between them, just like a small crack in a boulder, seemed to expand wider and wider with each passing season. From talking to each other everyday, to only texting each other on the holidays, to passing each other in the hallway like strangers. That was what their relationship had become.
Robin stared at the instrument. The violin stared back. She gently picked up the instrument and put it in its case. Whatever dreams she once had had long disappeared.
Robin zips up her case.
Somewhere, an unsung symphony echoes, gradually fading until it dies.
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