Falling Lessons

It was a most bizarre feeling, sneaking into a concert you were actually perfectly allowed to go and watch. Yet I had felt the need to sneak in because I wasn’t supposed to be here. This was Jazz Territory, and I was not a Jazz musician.
I thought I’d made it in without anyone noticing, but I was wrong. Although I guess I have to admit, I did hope he might be there, but I never actually expected him to be performing, let alone to notice my presence...

...Yet he did, and all it took was a split second for him to meet my eyes, and my heart would start pounding, causing my face to flush to a furious rouge.

Pull yourself together!

Leaning against the wall, I managed to steady myself, and sighed. It would be rude to simply walk out, and now that I thought about it, the music wasn’t all that bad, just not exactly my style. But then again, what exactly was my style?

I didn’t know.

I perked up a bit as his solo drew near.

Ugh. What’s wrong with me? Why was I so interested all of a sudden?

He glanced up again. I flinched.
No smile. Just that same questioning look.

I snorted. Wasn’t I allowed to listen to jazz now or something?

Strumming softly, he focused his attention entirely on making music now, and not letting the rest of the band down. Occasionally, he'd glance up at the other band members, picking up body language, and other visual methods of communication. I had heard from somewhere that one’s music performance allowed the audience to see into the performer’s mind. If that was anything close to the truth, then improvisation must be allowing the audience to see inside his very heart.
Having taken note of this strange theory, I managed to relax, letting the music surround me. Smiling, I began to enjoy listening to his heart, getting to know his personality. It wasn’t half bad! I watched in awe as he stealthily changed from one chord to another. The harmonies blended and intertwined like different colours of a spectrum. And yet, what amazed me most was that he was actually making it up on the spot!
He bore a most interesting expression as his eyes flickered from the music, to the conductor, to his guitar, always careful, always patient. It was no wonder what he created was so… good. So whole. So Alive.
His fingers seemd to fly along the frets freely. It amazed me how they seemed to know where to go. There was never a wrong note. And if there was, it was soon followed by the correct one as if it was just a mere ornament to decorate the melody.
His right hand continued to strum away as if he was giving no thought into it whatsoever, and yet it still couldn’t sound anything but perfectly beautiful. But like all magical things, it had to end, there was a strong applause- a tradition of jazz- and soon enough, the rest of the band made their entry as they repeated the head and then ended the piece.

For a second, the audience was silent, refusing to believe the concert was over, then, just as sudden as audience’s were and always would be, they burst into applause, cheering and whooping. It was so different from what I was used to.

I stood up with a few others, completely unaware of myself doing so, to give a standing ovation. He looked up at me, and met my eyes once more. I smiled.

Mild chatter commenced as band members began to pack up. I thought about staying behind to offer to help, but then decided against it, not wanting to raise more questions.

Today was Band Sign Up day, but I wasn’t staying around for a second longer. Hastily, I made to grab my bag and rush out the door before the one and only exit became too congested.
But just as I was about to turn around, I was suddenly smack-banged in a bear hug, followed by a delightful shrieking in my ear of,

“LISA!”

“Amelia!” I exclaimed, whilst simultaneously searching for another way out of the room, but finding none. The front door was slowly becoming a replica of a seriously bad traffic jam as the sign up forms were being given out there.
“Hey!” she replied, enthusiastically.
Out of habit, I glanced behind us before replying, and sure enough, I could make out Shane slowly working his way towards us. I panicked. The need to escape increased.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, breaking my train of thought.
Sheepishly, I tried to think of a good enough excuse.
“Uh… well…”
“You came to see Shane right?” there was a twinkle in her eyes.
“Huh? What? No!” I began. “I just heard music, and… Thought I’d come and listen…”
“Really?” Already, she had an arm around me and was beckoning me over to get a sheet.
“Then you should join!” she continued, “We really could do with a real pianist.”
“What do you mean ‘real’?” I choked out.

Amelia, although slightly intimidating, was actually one of the most gifted jazz musicians I knew! She could play and pretty much improvise on anything, including piano.

“Well you know, someone who can actually commit,” she said, listing the attributes, “someone who can read music, and sight read.”
I nodded, showing I was still listening.
“I was actually thinking of getting someone classical.” She said in a low voice, “Since no one wants to do it.”

A bubble of laughter escaped my mouth before I could stop it. Quickly, I placed my hand over my mouth to stop myself, and glanced at her, embarrassed. Thankfully she found it amusing too.
Classical pianists looked so stupid playing jazz!

Amelia looked at me pleadingly, “Please Lisa? Won’t you join?”
I laughed, “But Amelia! I am classical!”
“Yes, but you’re a different sort of classical,” she persisted.
I glanced back again and jolted as I realised how close Shane was now. Good lord, he did walk pretty fast!

Must. Exit.

“Look,” I said, “I have to go, Coffee later?”
She grabbed my hands now, refusing to part. “At least consider it,”
“Yeah yeah... Okay...” I mumbled, pushing my way out.
“Thanks!” she called.
“No promises!”

Finally reaching the exit, I glanced back one last time. Shane had reached Amelia now, and the two of them seemed to be in an in-depth conversation. A pang of jealousy hit me, making my insides weak again.

Ugh. I pushed it away.

You don’t belong here, I told myself.

You’re classical, what were you thinking?