The performance started, and its Conductor was M. The head violinist, someone Ngoc Lam had never met but is a close friend of Van Thac, is Thuyen. Van Thac holds the solo trumpet position in some performances.
The music catches the audience's attention. The Orchestra does a great job. The artists, under M's guidance, complete their tasks well or even excellently. Ngoc Lam recognizes many of them. Over the past nine years, they have continued to move forward. They- M, K, Fabian, Van Thac, and the artists are working hard in this world, except her.
Ngoc Lam knows she is agitated. But does it matter? Nothing has changed here. She needs to keep her distance from them and listen to their music like an ordinary music lover. When the performance ends, she will go home and go to bed. Tomorrow is a new day. She will walk on the streets, go to school, and study hard until graduation day, as she always does. Despite whispering comments about the Orchestra around her, Ngoc Lam sits up straight like a marble statue, her hands clutching the ticket stub tightly, repeating her determination in her head.
The concert is about to end. There is one more performance. Van Thac steps closer to M, and the two nod to each other. In the performance list, this is the most special repertoire. Except for information about Van Thac's solo performance, there is no other, even the name of the song. The guests all curiously focus on the stage. Ngoc Lam closes her eyes, trying not to look at the boy, who has grown much taller after four years. In just a few more minutes, she tells herself she will leave this place and never try to look for Van Thac. He will also leave for a new destination. Today will be like an intersection between two lives, which will soon separate.
M's baton swings up. From the very first notes, some audience members recognize that mysterious music. There is a faint buzzing sound from the stands. The Conductor sitting next to her is looking down at the artists. The ticket stub Ngoc Lam is holding fell. Her hands were shaking. Ngoc Lam can hear each heartbeat ringing in her ears, coinciding with the rhythm of the music. The conductor observes her, smiles, and then looks back to the stage, enjoying the music.
-----------
“... Sapphire! Sapphire! Ngoc Lam!"
The voice of the conductor calling wakes Ngoc Lam from her reverie. She is startled to see that the curtain has been down and covered the stage. And around her, the audience is also leaving.
"I'm sorry." She answers. Her voice is slightly trembling.
The conductor notices Ngoc Lam's slightly wobbly legs and extends his arm to her, "Allow me!"
Ngoc Lam holds the Conductor's arm and walks with him out of the theatre. On the way, he reminisces old stories.
“At the first time we met, you were eight years old, right? You were much shorter than you are now. But the little you insisted on tiptoeing while holding my arm rather than holding my hand to walk out onto the stage. More than ten years have passed. You have grown much taller."
Ngoc Lam listens and says nothing.
“You realize that right? The impression you have left was much bigger than you thought.”
“I have retired, Conductor.”
“A legend retired. Well! So how long will it take for that person to play music as skillfully as before, or even better than before?"
As soon as the two walk out of the theatre, heavy snowfalls, accompanied by rain. The cold this year will surely be harsh.
An assistant quickly runs over and covers the two with an umbrella. The Conductor asks him to give Ngoc Lam another one. He holds the umbrella himself with both hands and gives it to her.
“I wish this umbrella were a Strad…” The Conductor laughs and says, “For pragmatic people, this umbrella is more necessary than an instrument they don't know how to play. They can be easily sued for theft if they take a Strad roaming on the street. But what about you?”
Ngoc Lam politely accepts the umbrella, still saying nothing.
The conductor shows no displeasure, but he still speaks slowly.
“You deserve the best Orchestras, Sapphire. It's a pity that my Orchestra that day..." Silent for a moment, he moves on, "Next July, my Orchestra will undergo an evaluation. I hope you will come. This is a business. I will wait for an answer. At that time... don't kick Fabian's ass that hard! My Orchestra still needs him for future projects.”
After saying goodbye, Ngoc Lam returns to her accommodation with the umbrella given to her. People pass by bustlingly, and their breath turns into clouds of smoke. Ngoc Lam looks at the smoke from her breath and decides to stop by the coffee shop to buy a cup of hot cocoa.
The warmth from the cup warms her cold hands because of the rain and snow. Ngoc Lam sits holding a glass of water, wondering what she is expecting. If it were Van Thac four years ago, would he rush to find her after the show, constantly talking about his love for music with her? The present Van Thac is the grown man in a trench coat the day the two of them met by chance. He is no longer the boy who is clumsy with musical notes. His trumpet playing has reached an amazing level. He easily handles difficult techniques. His skill, perhaps, is equal to Mr Lam, or even better. That special performance and Van Thac's eyes overshadow Ngoc Lam's original thoughts. When Van Thac looked up at her in the VIP row, his eyes were full of determination, no longer the pleading and confusion of the past. For what? Ngoc Lam sobs softly. We won't meet again.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
At night, Ngoc Lam lay awake in bed. She tilted her head and looked towards the closet. In a corner there, just a few feet away, she may touch the violin. Musical instruments also have their souls. She remembers K's words the other day. When an artist plays a musical instrument, it is also when two souls interact and shine. Without the artist, the soul of the musical instrument would be imprisoned in its form, waiting alone year after year. Without musical instruments, an artist cannot turn music into a voice that represents their years of hard work and aspirations.
Van Thac, she thinks of him again, has become one with his instrument and radiated beautiful light like a combination of billions of molecules of a mysterious self-luminous material dancing in the air.
The call from her mother startles Ngoc Lam. She quickly reaches for the nightstand.
“Hello, Mom?”
“Hello, I can't sleep, so I call you. Are you sleeping?”
"Not yet. It's only 10 o'clock here. Is there anything?
“It's nothing... I just miss you.”
"I see. I'm fine here.”
The conversation stops for a moment before Ngoc Lam's mother speaks.
“Have you been to the concert yet?”
“Yes, I have.”
The mother and her daughter continue to be silent for a while longer.
“Ngoc Lam.”
“Yes, Mom?”
“Remember what I said when I sent you off at the airport?”
“...”
“I always respect every decision you make, but no matter what you do, just remember, it's not your fault. My daughter did nothing wrong.”
Ngoc Lam greets her mother and hangs up the phone. The day she said goodbye to her family to study abroad, her mother touched her cheeks with her palms, leaned her forehead against hers and said, "It's not your fault. You've been working so hard.”
Remembering her mother's words at that time, Ngoc Lam also places her hands on her cheeks and keeps her eyes closed. When she opens her eyes, a black sticky thing with Minh's face is floating in front of her. It doesn't scream or move. It just hovers in one place. Ngoc Lam looks straight at it.
“Minh, I…”
The alarm bell wakes Ngoc Lam up. She prepares a simple breakfast and packs her lunch in a thermos box. She repeats her usual routines: walking out of the house and heading towards the University. In her hand, there is the umbrella given to her yesterday.
Today is the last day before winter break. The atmosphere in the classroom was busier than usual. The students are talking about their plans. Most of them choose to return home to reunite with their families. International students from Asia, like Ngoc Lam, have different plans. Some will return home, some will take advantage of the vacation to go to tourist or shopping areas to take a seasonal part-time job, and some will travel or visit their friends' families in Europe and celebrate Christmas and New Year with them.
Ngoc Lam's living expenses are covered, so she does not need to find a part-time job. Usually, during the winter break when the boarding house she lives in is empty and quiet, Ngoc Lam often borrows more books from the library, taking advantage of the time to cultivate her knowledge. The landlady also sometimes invites her to their main house to have dinner with her family and sometimes takes her to the countryside to meet the elderly there to play cards, cook, and clean together.
Unfortunately, the owner is sick this winter, and she may not be able to leave the hospital until Christmas. Ngoc Lam comes to visit her often. The old lady holds her hand and leans into her ear to say.
“In the new year, we will make a pot of delicious soup together.”
The landlady turns 70 years old this year. She lives with her husband and has rented their house for more than 40 years. The large house used for rent did not belong to the spouse at first. However, its previous owner had no relatives but her as his distant relative, so before he passed away, he let her inherit. Thanks to that house, the couple had money to pay living expenses for the whole family and tuition fees for their three children. When their children grew up, they all went to work far away and had their own lives. The landlady and her husband have relied on each other and slowly lived together.
When she is sick, he stays by her side and takes care of her, and then he returns to take care of the boarding house. Ngoc Lam every day, except for studying, will come over to greet the old man and take him to the hospital to take care of the lady.
In the hospital, other than being examined and doing physical activities for a while, the landlady has nothing else to do. She often lies down and watches classical music on YouTube. Ngoc Lam and the landlord have just arrived when she is watching a 'fan cam' of Van Thac's concert before the holiday.
“I want to come see it directly. I didn't expect to get sick that day." She is still glued to the phone screen, lamenting as soon as she sees her husband and Ngoc Lam enter.
“What can I do, my wife?” The old man sweetly comforts her. “They have many more concerts. As long as they are in Europe, I'll take you to see it, okay!”
The two old people are so sweet to each other that they almost forget that Ngoc Lam is standing next to them. She greets the girl, and with the aura of love, she looks younger than her age.
“This guy,” the old lady points at Van Thac in the final performance, “reserved the most special part to wait for someone.” She smiles, turns to look at her husband, then looks at Ngoc Lam. "Its perfection is waiting for someone to break it and lead it to a new horizon. I wonder if he will meet someone like that at the next concert?”
----------------------
Ngoc Lam runs as fast as she is flying. In her mind, Van Thac's music and the landlady's words keep repeating. She does not know if she is doing right or wrong, but she just cannot stop herself.
Ngoc Lam quickly opens the wardrobe, pulls out the violin, plays the video of Van Thac's latest performance, and starts harmonizing with her violin.
The sound of her heart pounding in her ears covers the rhythm. The melodious sound seems to blend with Thac's trumpet sound. Each finger trembles along with the vibration of the strings. The world around suddenly turns into nothingness. In front of Ngoc Lam, there is no one else except Van Thac. The two people are standing in two worlds, with only the sound of music reaching each other. Ngoc Lam is like a moth rushing to follow the melodies. Van Thac's eyes look at her like he did on that day- from the stage towards the stands. Ngoc Lam frantically plays the violin as an answer. She is afraid if she doesn't respond promptly, her world will fall into despair.
The music ends, and Van Thac's image is no longer in her sight. The surroundings return to the room. But the tips of her fingers clearly feel every beat, and her tears flowed down from the corner of her eyes to her chin.