Spring was here at last. I shrugged and cracked my neck, watching the sun gently rise and light up the sky with warm, golden hues. A haunting melody started slowly from one of the rooms downstairs, like it's player was teasing the instrument and within seconds the strains grew and filled the house.
I sighed deeply. The shadows of the past that hung over Marilyn and I for some years were lifted. No, almost. I sort of tiptoed into the drawing room, and the sight of eleven-year-old Marilyn with her small-sized violin hooked between her chin and shoulders left me agape.
Her face—a spitting image of mine—was intense and so was her concentration. My heart sobbed even though my tear ducts had dried up from years of overuse when I lost my identical twin sister to the cold hands of death. My promise at her bedside was to raise her only child, Marilyn, as mine.
Marilyn dipped her head a little, a lock of her auburn hair falling across her closed left eye as her small fingers glided the bow across the strings with precision borne from tedious practice. She might be young but she had to be perfect like her mother, Abigail.
Music ran in our family, a skill passed down through many generations. My forte was the piano and together with Abigail's, we became a vocal duo called The Rising Sisters until Abby fell ill and passed away. The hurt was unbearable and the shock, overwhelming.
Marilyn was just a baby and in no time, picked up interest in the violin. Rather than grieving my loss, I poured myself into Abby's mini-me with the hope the shadows might dissipate. I started as her teacher and later employed a good friend, one of the best violinists in the city, to finish her training.
After dinner every night, I would drill my niece through hours of practice. Maybe. Just maybe, The Rising Sisters might actually rise and start playing again. Last night, everything came crashing down.
“Again, Marilyn! Your tempo is too fast for that piece,” I blurted in exasperation after two hours of practice. It was nine pm. “And you're gripping your bow too tight,” I added, standing behind her and tapping her pale knuckles.
Marilyn dropped the bow, flung the violin on the floor and jerked away from me. Chest heaving and her face flushed red, I realised she was close to tears. She stomped her feet on the ground, her arms folded across her chest as the tears fell. “I'm tired, mom! I'm not playing anymore.”
My eyes widened in shock as the realisation of my desperation and failure dawned on me.
“I'm trying my best but it doesn't seem to be enough,” Marilyn sobbed.
I covered the distance between us in two strides and held her tightly to my chest as my muttered apologies poured out profusely. A black void was left after Abby passed and in my desperation, I wanted Marilyn to fill it. But she was just a child. My child.
And so I told her everything.
She watched me in shock and disbelief as I narrated who her mother was, how she passed away and how her father left before she was born. “B-but I look like you,” she stuttered. “I-I love music….just like you.”
I smiled, my heart heavy with a sadness that never left after ten years. “Sweetie, your mother and I were identical twins. Still, you are my daughter. You know that right?”
The silence was too long and excruciating as her brows pulled together in a frown, confusion etched on her face. Her entire demeanour suddenly became subdued. She glanced at me and ran to her room without an answer to my question.
Awaking to the sound of the beautiful melody, a piece that Abby loved to play, and watching Marilyn play it with such grace brought back memories. The shadows slowly vanished as her eyelids lifted and a smile lit up her face.
“Good morning, Mom. What do you think?”
“Beautiful. Perfect,” I whispered.
What I See
A girl about ten or eleven years old, playing a violin with such intense concentration that reveals she loves making music.
What I Feel
Admiration
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's my response to A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words writing contest. You may click on the link to participate.
Thank you for visiting my blog.
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