ARC TWO

alla marcia
Origin: Italian
In the style of a march

DISCLAIMER: The personalities and opinions of these characters do not represent those of actual idols themselves, the Juilliard students, the New York Philharmonic, or any of its employees. The Juilliard School is not responsible for the accuracy of information.

The Fifty-Sixth Measure

Saturday: April 24, 2021

That morning, Chaeyoung came over to my penthouse. Nayoung made breakfast and then we shut ourselves in my personal practice room, going over Silent Sonata together for the first time. We survery the piece in silence — not an uncomfortable silence, but a peaceful type of silence. I mean, when there's a deaf girl and a maybe-to-become-deaf girl in one room, there's bound to be silence.

Chaeyoung used the grand piano in place of her mallet percussion. I situated myself on a chair adjacent to the piano, sleeved sheet music on a framed music stand and an unassembled bassoon still sitting in its case. Using the simplest signs as possible (due to my finite knowledge of sign language), I explained my interpretation of Silent Sonata while she nodded at my hands, her facial expression blank. I don't think she's grasping a single word— I mean, sign — that I'm using. Now Chaeyoung is criss-crossing her legs on the piano bench and giving me a confused look.

"So you mean to say that 'Silent Sonata' is about a girl who is quiet?"

Dammit. I can't use such complex signs to explain the deeper meaning of Silent Sonata without knowing those signs.

"We'll work through it", Chaeyoung concluded, "But looking at the music from first glance..."

Chaeyoung is using music theory to work on the song and it's very eye-opening. She writes down notes on both of our scores and experiments each note with the grand piano. The introduction of dissonance in her accompaniment resolves into the major key in the way "Audition" switches from two conjoined lyrics ("Here's to the ones who dream, crazy as they may seem"). It's essentially a distortion of the girl's dream – the sprinkles and fairy dust of the classical music industry are removed and replaced with the bite of cold competition.  

The use of a major seventh makes Silent Sonata feel emotionally intricate and disturbed. In the first movement, there's a lot of development to imply a person's restrained yet erratic feelings as they encounter a dire series of events. You can feel a lot of emotions within a short timeframe. 

"This piece does remind me of you", Chaeyoung pinpointed, removing her hands from the piano's keys.

"Really? I think more of you when I hear it", I countered, staring at her hands.

"Maybe the two of us are not so much different after all", she concluded with a grin and god, it stirs me, "Also, how is your hearing?"

I in a breath and sigh, "Not good. I'm going to lose my hearing in my left ear very soon. After tonight's concert, I think."

I can feel the hot blood in my ears as I'm signing to Chaeyoung. She tried not to crane her neck while gaping at my dispirited face intensely, but I can't help but notice how glum this atmosphere is. The lighthearted scene parted to something pensive; cold sober. Then Chaeyoung pulls my wrists to have my hands sandwiched in between hers, eyelids fluttering, smiling with pinkened cheeks.

Then Chaeyoung releases my tense hands from her grasp, "I know exactly how you feel. I've been in your position before."

"I know. You explained to me."

"But if there's something I learned from my many dreams, it's that being deaf isn't going to be the end of the world", Chaeyoung signed and then wiggled her index finger, "Sure you're not going to be able to hear your surroundings the same way you do today, and the stigma towards deaf people still exists, but there's beauty to our silence that no one can comprehend except a select few. We often look at the negatives, but there's also positives."

I glanced at her confoundedly, "I guess?"

"Mina. I'm not saying that deafness is going to be all puppies and rainbows", Chaeyoung continued, "But to every cloud, there's a silver lining. And deaf people are just as capable of accomplishing things that hearing people can do."

"Let's start practicing this sonata", I sidetracked before picking up my bassoon and propping a reed in between my lips.

Some time passed, punctuated with Chaeyoung making remarks about style and the inner meaning of Silent Sonata. Nayoung called us for lunch but Chaeyoung can't hear her and I'm too absorbed in my bassoon-playing to acknowledge her. Chaeyoung stops in the middle of the third movement to escape to her mind mansion, and I take the opportunity to yank out a rag from my case and wipe off the building condensation inside my instrument. I don't know what the is currently on Chaeyoung's mind, but she's grinning like an idiot.

"I have a theory about this movement", Chaeyoung's proclaimed, hands sliding away from the piano keys. Her hand motioned towards a pencil on my music stand and she began jotting down her thoughts about Silent Sonata's third movement on my sheet music:

These upward arpeggios on my part, then your trills in this bar, and also this crescendo over here. This movement is much more optimistic. It's promising lyricism. Silent Sonata isn't about being silenced by others; that's what The Black Swan was about. Silent Sonata is about finding hope within that silence and converting it into a voice.

I widened my eyes.

"I guess", I mumbled to myself, nodding at each word.

"Let's stop here and eat lunch before we leave", Chaeyoung suggested before lowering the piano lid. 

I put my bassoon away and pondered over roasted lamb shanks and scalloped potatoes, not sure if I was hungry or not. Nayoung offered to fix Chaeyoung's hair for the concert, so I stepped outside to wait. I wandered around Teardrop Park under the sinking sun, whistling the first nine bars in the third movement of Silent Sonata, later covering my ears when a mob of noisy students poured in from the neighboring high school. God. I used to be unbothered by these kids. None of this was good for my ears. Annoyed, I settled on heading back to my penthouse and taking a bath. 

The scorching heat seemed to wake me up.

"Snap out of it!" I slapped my cheeks under the hot water gushing in from the shower head, "You still have your hearing. Embrace it tonight."

With a little more resolve, I slipped on a silk bathrobe and dried my hair, laughing to myself at my steadfastness. I opened the door to release the steam from the bathroom, only to find Chaeyoung in a shimmering, halter-topped black dress and glistening wavy hair.

"OH MY G— I'm so sorry!" Chaeyoung squeaked out loud, covering her eyes. It just came to my head that Chaeyoung witnessed me in a bathrobe.

"I-It's okay", I stuttered, but then I remembered that Chaeyoung can't decipher my words, "You're fine."

While affixing my diamond drop earrings, I stared at this beautiful black beaded dress sitting on the foot of my bed, established with a body-contouring ruching on the back, sweetheart lining beneath the long-sleeved lace bodice, and a thigh-high slit on the long skirt. I recall Nayoung saying that she would head out to Macy's to go dress-shopping for a late night date with Pinky after the concert, but she said that this dress was too short for her tall, lean stature. The process of putting the dress on was like preparing for a funeral, perhaps my own funeral. 

Shut up, Myoui.

After squirming into the gown, Yoojung summoned me to the second bathroom to have my hair and makeup done by Nayoung. The elder housekeeper appeared to have exceptional taste when it came to makeup, giving Chaeyoung and I a sophisticated fix. It appeared that she had been playing around with my Lush and Tony Moly makeup kits, testing her creations on Yoojung whenever I was absent. 

"Yoojung and I can't wait to watch you guys perform", Nayoung gleamed at me, "And by the way, you look y in that dress."

I was too abashed by her compliment to even speak properly, "Y-You have fun with Pinky tonight too!" 

"Oh, you bet I will", she smirked knowingly in her low, smooth voice.

"What?" 

"Never mind", Nayoung shrugged off, "You just enjoy performing tonight."

Enjoy — that's the keyword for tonight. 

The Fifty-Seventh Measure

"Nayoung did your's and Chaeyoung's hair?" Sana gazed at my fancy braided updo with sparkling eyes. She was taking her sweet time cleaning her horn inside and out because she wasn't going to be the acting principal for the first half; Chaekyung was. 

"Yes", I said, tugging at my earrings out of fear that they had disappeared while Nayoung was zooming across Manhattan with her car.

"And you didn't even invite me?" Sana asked with a jab of playful jealousy.

"You were shopping with Nayeon!" I reminded her.

"Oh", the hornist realized, laughing shakily at her absent-mindedness, "Silly me! I guess I'm just exhausted from calling three Ubers just to go to three different places. We went to Macy's Herald Square, but neither of us could find a dress there so Nayeon called an Uber to take us to Fifth Avenue, but then the stores were too pricey there, so I called an Uber to take us to The Shops at Columbus Circle and..."

Sana is running off about her shopping spree with Nayeon and I'm still incredibly dizzy from Nayoung's haphazard driving from Lower West Side to the Upper West Side of Manhattan. One would believe that Nayoung is such a calm and collected girl at first glance but in the heat of traffic, her driving offsets that kind of composure. Chaeyoung is actually in the bathroom meditating on whether she should throw up or not. 

There was a pause once Sana stopped speaking. She's staring at me, most likely expecting a response.

"Nonetheless, you look very pretty tonight!" my eyes darted from her floor-length, chiffon evening dress to her chignon bun with floral accents.

"That didn't answer my question, but thanks!" she teasingly smiled.

"Wait", I blinked, "What was your question?"

"Jesus", Sana sighed, cradling her horn in her arms, "And I thought I was the airheaded one. I was asking you how you're feeling."

"Yeah!" I exclaimed without thinking, "I-I mean I'm fine! Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique and Elgar's Cello Concerto, right? No problem! I'm just going to focus on enjoying my playing tonight and not worry about losing my hearing!"

"That's great..." Sana faltered, thrown off by my enthusiasm.

"Who knows?" I chuckled, hugging my bassoon, "Tonight might be the last time I'll get to hear Mikasa like this."
 
Sana attempted to suppress a laugh, "Mina, did you just—"

I was drowning in my emotions until I saw Sana's amused expression, "! I mean my bassoon!"

"Suuurrreee", she drawled out. 

"I now need Advil because of you", I snarked but luckily, Sana took it as a joke, her head still thrown back in laughter. I deposited my bassoon in its stand, ordered Mingyu to watch over it, and darted to the nearest water fountain backstage.

*RING*

No, Mina. You're fine. You're going to be okay. Be strong. Please, just be strong.

Ignoring the sensation, I popped single capsule in my mouth and washed it down my throat with the same cup I used for my reed water. I know it sounds repungnant, but I haven't doused any of my reeds yet, at least not after I cleansed this cup following my practice session with Chaeyoung. 

Okay, let's do this.

I refilled the cup with lukewarm water from the bathroom sink, popped one double reed in for a few minutes, then power walked back to my seat onstage. Jun is as calm as a cat, Vernon is talking to Jung Eunwoo on his phone, Joshua seems frightened as , and Mingyu looks concerned as I inserted my hearing protection into my ears. I was just about to warm up on my bassoon when Mingyu tapped my shoulder and proceeded to talk. I couldn't decipher a single word over the myriad of instruments tuning and audience members chattering.

"I'm sorry?" I asked as I removed the earplug in my left ear.

"I asked flubdfskbskjbf...." his voice was drowned out by the trombones sitting behind us.

"Can you repeat that, but louder?" I requested.

Mingyu took in a deep breath before repeating his question, "Are you sajdskadhaskjh..."

What the ?

Nayeon poked me, leaned in, cupped her hands around my left ear, and spoke, "Mingyu is asking if you're okay."

"I'm fine", I insisted, replugging my hearing protection and preparing my embouchure.

Symphonie Fantastique is a beautiful program symphony, narrating the Berlioz's tragedy of longing over an something unattainable, particularly an attractive woman, as well as how it leads to his spiraling dejection. The idée fixe (“fixed idea”) is a very central concept; a persisting theme of rising yearning and tumbling melancholy – am illustration of riveting obsession and the embodiment of passion.

The first movement (Rêveries—Passions) is about a dream — an Artist's dream to be exact. At first, the whimsical strings and the dreamy flutes carry a lofty melody. Then the commotion from the rest of the orchestra portray the performing artist's frustrations and desperation, and daunting eruptions intersperse with occasions of reverie. There are parallels with La La Land in this movement, such as how the "dream" distracts us from a reality that it is not entirely attainable. Dreams can sugarcoat the truth, but people prefer to obsess over the things they want but can't have.

Speaking of obsession...  
  
The second movement (Un bal) is a dizzying waltz. Two harpists give off the impression of Berlioz's desired lover at a festive event, though she doesn't reconcile. Berlioz is hurt from infatuation and confusion sends him into the third movement (Scène aux champs).

The music is a pulsaton away from the envious furor that emerged when the Artist noticed his treasured one recognized by someone else.

I think back to my moments with The Six, about how Jennie admitted that she was jealous of my accomplishments. And then I thought about Reina believing that everyone loved me, believing that I had everything handed over to me, and believing that Chaeyoung's situation should've not affected me psychologically. They have no idea how unloved I've felt for more than half of my life. The acclaim from the public and music critics mattered nothing to me for as long as I wasn't happy and was treated like a pawn to my lineage.

Could you imagine having a genuine and palpable love for something at first, only to be taken advantage of by your own parents and relatives for financial and reputational gain? Could you imagine thinking that your relatives were nice for one second, only to forsake you when you're finally feeling comfortable with yourself? I feel like that’s one of the worst positions to be put in not just as a musician, but as a person. 

And soon I'm going to become—

Mina, what the ? Focus!

The grand moment of Symphonie Fantastique is approaching and I need to get my together. The fourth movement (Marche au supplice) contains one of the most monumental bassoon excerpts known to our kind — the bassoon tutti, which is always demanded in auditons because of its difficulty. The staccato notes must be clear and separated, creating an articulation that matches that of the strings pizzicatos. One must meticulously judge how much of a puff of air to give each note and be able to tongue promptly, and there are a lot of notes.

This march belongs to the bass clef instruments.

Marche au supplice reveals the blackhearted imagination of Berlioz. The sinister bassoons implicate the narcotics slipping the Artist into a deep sleep, all before bringing out his nightmares. Then the low brass echoes the sounds of real life military bands accompanying the convicted Artist to his execution for murdering the woman in his dream, Jeongyeon and Rocky's combined timpani roll act as the buildup of this suspenseful movement, and Chaeyoung's thunderous cymbals brings about the guillotine that will curtail the Artist's head. Horns and trumpets sound out the victory screech for the execution of the Artist and the drum roll imitates the truncated head bouncing down the steps.

And for a brief minute between the fourth and the fifth movements, I feel as though I lost my head. White noise ades my ears after the cymbal crash and the final trombone note, leaving me nauseated in my seat. My reed slides off my lips and my heart is tossing itself against my ribs. 

"One more movement. You're doing great", Nayeon says, massaging my shoulder with an assuring hand while switching clarinets with the other. 

I took in a deep breath and repositioned my hands on the joints, waiting for my cue in the fifth movement (Songe d'une nuit du sabbat). A bright E-Flat Clarinet (which was assigned to Nayeon instead of the second clarinetist, much to Nayeon's expense) takes off with an eerie yet colorful solo, leading the bassoons to ooze four-note groupings with diminuendos. Proper breath control and tonguing speed are crucial here.

The fifth movement extends the death story with the Artist surrounded by ghoulish creatures for his funeral, snickering and chortling at the Artist. This passage haunts me because it brings me back to a few months ago, when the Juilliard Orchestra members were humiliating deaf Chaeyoung as she first became a member of the ensemble. It uneases me for what's to come in my future.

The bassoon-off does not end in the fourth movement, but rather they linger in tutti with the tubas when they play the Dies Irae Gregorian Chant — a traditional funeral melody repeated like a mantra. The tubas are deep and haunting, the bassoons are buzzing and gloomy. It sort of gives off the effect that we're grieving. Low and loud reverberations from the bass section invoke suffering, hence the Sabbath dance mentioned in the movement's title. My fingers are numb, my lips hurt, and my ears are disturbed.

The Fifty-Eighth Measure

"Wake up, hime-sama!"

I was taking a power nap in the dressing room during the thirty-minute intermission when Dahyun waved her hand in front of my face. She has been guarding my bassoon while Tzuyu was changing into her concerto dress in the room adjacent to us. I rubbed my knuckles into my eyes groggilly, stretched my arms, and tried to drink in the feedback of my senses. I recall the fleeting nightmare of my death bed thanks to the fourth and fifth movements of Symphonie Fantastique, and then a massive headache followed. I'm in so much pain.

"Here's your girlfriend", Dahyun quirked as she pointed to my bassoon reposing on top of a wide table.

I couldn't muster up the strength to reply back to her, so I just nodded.

Unfortunately, the double bassist caught my lack of energy, "Oh honey. How can I help you?"

"Can't I just sleep for five more minutes?" I grumbled.

"But I have somebody that wants to see you!" Dahyun whined, sliding her bow across a cake of rosin.

"Who—"

"OH MY—" Jeongyeon shouted, panting with hands slapped on her knees after barging into the dressing room. Brown, sweaty curls clung to her forehead and her face was pale. Dahyun finished with a jerk to steady Jeongyeon's balance, dropping her bow and rosin in the process.

"What the hell happened?" I questioned.

When Jeongyeon caught her breath, she flashed a 'thumbs-up' sign, "I've managed to sneak in Bona past Juilliard's security and wounded her up here."

I widened my eyes, "You what?"

"There you guys are! I was looking all over for— OH MY GOD! YOU'RE SO Y!" Bona exclaimed from the doorway, trotting over to the three of us in her baby pink two-piece platform dress sandals. She looks as if she had traveled across the coastline of Italy. Thick black sunglasses obscured her eyes and her thin figure was shrouded in a rose-print, sacklike dress. I don't think she understands how concert attire works, but whatever.

Jeongyeon took the compliment with certainty, "Thank—"

"I'm talking about Mina, dip", Bona bantered.

"Is that how you treat your high school friend who smuggled you backstage?" Jeongyeon said begrudgingly.

"You had friends?" Bona fixed her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"YAH!" 

Dahyun reached for her bow and rosin, and then cackled loudly, "My cousin is so savage sometimes."

"Oh my god, but Mina is so beautiful though!" Bona ignored the two and proceeded to glomp me, the ten jangling bracelets on her left wrist grating my back, "Seriously! Your hair, your dress, your makeup, and oh my god, don't even get me started on your bassoon playing! I developed freaking goosebumps from your dark, deep sound and oh my god, I'm so bad at describing music! I'm sorry!"

"I-It's fine", following the aftermath of those bassoon tuttis, I could feel my lungs tearing away at each word, "Th-Thank you so much."  

"Man! I wish I had started learning an instrument when I was younger!" she cried, squeezing me even tighter.

I breathlessly smiled, "I-It's never too late!"

"AHHHHHHH!" Bona squealed and my chest was crumbling, "You think so?"

"You're suffocating her, stupid", Jeongyeon reprimanded, "Mina, I'm so sorry. Bona is sort of drunk from the wine that's served in the lobby."  

"I'm not drunk, you !" Bona coughed, releasing me from her embrace, "Besides, my daughter is here. Mommy can't be a bad influence."

"I want to see Sungyeon!" Dahyun dropped her bow again from over-excitement.

"My daughter is with my new girlfriend, Xuan Yi", Bona points to the women's restroom on the opposite end of the hall, "You know? Your fourth hornist? I met her on Bridge, a.k.a Musician's Tinder. That girl gave Sungyeon a strip of seaweed and now she's throwing up like mad."

Speaking of throwing up, I might need to do the same. This is ridiculous. I've never had an issue playing 'Symphonie Fantastique' before.

"Mina! Where are you going?" Bona asked.

"I think her bassoon got her lightheaded", Jeongyeon speculated.

Xuan Yi had just turned the corner of the hallway when I was nearing the women's restroom. I didn't make eye-contact with her, but she said something along the lines of "You played spectacularly tonight!" while smacking my back. It's bizarre because I never talked to Xuan Yi before. My perspective of her was a quiet girl who obeys her section leaders and has an unconventional addiction to seaweed. 

Once I made haste for an empty stall, I slumped over the toilet bowl and well, threw up. Vertigo was permeating in my senses and my throat is running dry from not having a decent splash of fresh water in the last hour or so (water fountains don't count). 

I immediately flushed the toilet to rid of any vulgar evidence, then I leaned over the marble-topped sink, inhaling deeply. I'm not sure whether I'm having a panic attack or if it's just the symptoms of my acoustic neuroma, but god, I can't breathe. Then a twinge developed at the nape of my neck and my back from having been strapped to my bassoon for too long. The concert isn't even over yet; it's just the intermission.

The 4-7-8 method. Inhale through my nose to a mental count of four, hold my breath for a count of seven, and exhal—

Nope. it.

I stared at my reflection at the mirror. My hair and most of my makeup is still intact, but I needed to reapply concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I dug into my makeup pouch for a Lancome undereye concealer until I felt a slight pull on the fabric of my dress.

*tug*

A child in a lovely pink dress looked up at me with big eyes and trembling fingers. I smiled in a way that I hoped was affectionate and not ugly, but the little girl just scurried back to the sanctuary of a bathroom stall. Did I do something wrong?

"Hey, it's okay", I whispered, "You can talk to me, I promise."

"I-I'm shy..." her voice faltered.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because... y-you're Anna— no, I mean Mina", she stammered from the other side of the stall, "Th-The balloon— no, wait. I-I-I mean the bassoonist. My mom and I listen to your music on... wh-what is it called? Spotty? Spots? Spotting?"

"Spotify?" 

"Yeah, that!" 

"What's your name?"

"Sungyeon", she answered, still hiding behind the stall, "I-It's a weird name, I know. Th-The other kids make fun of me at my school not just be-because of my stut-stutter, but because I don't have 'normal' names like Mary or Patricia or Jennifer or Elizabeth. I'm dif-different from everyone."

Is she Bona's child?

"There's nothing wrong with being different", I told her, gripping the fabric of my skirt.

Sungyeon was headstrong, "Everyone thinks there is."

"Who cares about what everyone else thinks?" I insisted, my mind jogging for words that suit the diction appropriate for her age, "They... They don't get to decide the type of person you want to be. You don't have to fit in; you were born to stand out." 

And that's exactly what Bona told me.

"Sungyeon! Where are you!" I heard Bona shout in desperation. Briefly exiting the women's restroom, I snuck a glance at the frantic girl sprinting down the backstage hallway. Xuan Yi followed closely behind, distractedly swinging her French horn in one hand.

I rounded back to Sungyeon's stall to talk to her, "Dear, I think your mom is looking for you."

The door stall slowly cracked open and Sungyeon's head peaked out from the crevice. She looks like a miniature version of Bona — long strands of jet black hair that stooped just below her waist into a french braid, pasty skin, big eyes, and she's also wearing a large rose-print dress. 

"You're very very very pretty", Sungyeon said repetitively, seeming a bit starstruck.

I knealed down to reach her height and pointed at her heart, "What matters is on the inside, sweetie."

"You mean like my lungs?"

"Uhh..." I scratched my chin, "Your mom will explain it to you one day."

"Bona, I found her!" Xuan Yi squealed, "She's with Mina!"

And then Bona stumbled inside the bathroom after dashing in heels. She winces for two seconds until Sungyeon's figure comes into view and her face becomes a mixed palette of extreme worry and elation. Sungyeon runs into her arms and Bona hugs her tightly, not knowing what to say.

"Oh, Mina. Thank goodness that you're here to watch over my girlie", Bona's voice sounds higher than usual, strained through exhaustion of having to scamper backstage while simultaneously avoiding Juilliard's security guards. "Sungyeonnie, what do you say to Mina?"

"Thank you Hanna— I-I mean, Mina!" she squeaked, diverting her eyes away from me, "One day, I'm going to become a mu-musician like you! And, and, and I'm going to take lessons from you, be-because you really are the best musician out there!"

Her words drew a smile on my face.

"Intermission is almost over so we need to get back to our seats", Bona reminded me, "I think you need to be on standby too."

"You're right", I nodded.

"My cousin has your bassoon", she said, "Anyways, thanks for watching my daughter. Oh, and don't forget about Jeongyeon's USB too!"

"Y-Yeah! Okay!" I let out a rush of breath, embarrassed by my awkwardness.

Why did she remind me about the USB?

The Fifty-Ninth Measure 

That thought diminished fairly quickly.

"I can't believe I have to go to work after", Jeongyeon whined.

Momo's eyes grew large, "This late?"

Jeongyeon's shoulders sagged, "We all know that the musicians and the highbrow concertgoers are going to crash the café after the performance."

"Just tell them that you're occupied", Momo said with a suggestive grin on her face.

"With what?"

"With me!"

"Both of you, shut up and tune!" Concertmaster Kai ordered in a huff.

Talking with Sungyeon sort of released some stress, that by the time I reentered the dressing room and fetched my bassoon, I could remain calm. Tzuyu was still in the private dressing room changing from concert black to her concerto dress. Momo, Jihyo, and Dahyun were plucking out notes from sweet pizzicatos, Jeongyeon and Chaeyoung were initiating wrist exercises on the sidelines, and an abashed Nayeon hid her face after squeaking out a clarinet note from a horrid reed. She had to scurry to the dressing room to retrieve her reed case, as she initially didn't believe that she needed to bring it with her. Sana was well... chatting with Eunha as opposed to warming up on her horn.

Enjoy tonight, right? Right?

"Mina", Sana called, having Eunha hold her horn, "Give me your face."

"What?"

She didn't spare a single second to explain what she was going to do to my face. Sana reached for her case, popped open a mini bottle of MAC Pro longwear concealer that she kept in one of the empty pockets, and dabbed some concealer under my eyes while gritting the cap between her teeth. I guess I was too occupied with Sungyeon to take heed to the dark circles under my eyes. Sana then recapped the concealer and brushed away stray strands of hair from my face, her eyes big and glossy. I squinted as her mint-scented breath came into contact with my eyes.

"You're okay, right?" she asked.

"Of course", I blinked twice, "Why would you think otherwise?"

Sana stared down on me sharply, "I watched you from the sidelines during Symphonie Fantastique. You did not look okay."

"You were watching me the entire time I was performing?" I stared at her incredulously, "Sana, why would you—"

"MINA! Where's your hearing protection?" Sana shrieked, her head poking at my side profile.

"What are you talking about? I'm wearing..." I drilled my pointer fingers into both sides of my ears and felt nothing, "Oh no." 

DId I leave them in the bathroom? The dressing room?

"Juilliard Orchestra, you may now enter the stage", a staff member instructed.

.

My body buzzed as ninety musicians and their instruments advanced to the main stage of the symphony hall. The usual excitement that comes with performing is thrown out the window and is replaced with anxiety and dread. Even though Sungyeon and Bona are sitting in the front row with infectuous smiles on their lips, it doesn't alleviate the pain that my left ear is enduring.

Tzuyu stepped out donned in a stunning burgundy dress that accented her tall frame. Her dark, glossy was shaped into an elegant bun accented with rose gold hair pieces resembling that of Aphrodite. Indeed, with cello and bow by her side, the young girl was ready to make her solo debut. The respectful guests stood up from their seats and clapped for the cellist, a couple of classmates cheering from the rear back of the balcony.

"That cello isn't going to be the only big wood in between her legs!" a quirky Dahyun hollered from her seat.

"Shush!" the double bass section leader chided.

Dahyun didn't catch the memo and continued joking with the younger bassist sitting next to her, "I can't wait until she works on my fingerbo—"

When Dahyun learned that the curtain had been lifted one minute ago, she slouched in her stool and glanced down on her own double bass. The audience members exhibited confused faces while Tzuyu shot Dahyun a dirty look from the center stage. When Maestro Gilbert followed, my left ear fully caught the rabid clapping exuding from the audience as well as the tuning note that the oboist gives prior to every performance. 

Now I really wished that I had brought my hearing protection.

It's too late to run. Maestro Gilbert is on the podium, eyes looming over each and every section of the ensemble. Tzuyu nodded at him to begin.

Sir Edward Elgar was a renowned British composer and his Cello Concerto in E Minor is greatly admired by contemporary cellists. It is one of his final works before the death of his wife in 1920, after which he hadn’t been producing noteworthy pieces as the pomp of his music died out with the public, who were elegiac after the end of the First World War. There really is no intricate or specific backstory behind the concerto itself; how one decides to perform it is open to interpretation. The intention of Elgar’s concerto was to explore the meaning of life. The melody is very contemplative and melancholic, though occasionally it showcases moments of richness and grandiosity.

I've never actually heard Tzuyu play before, at least in the concept of a soloist. She seems like a calm, reserved girl who didn't favor the limelight, as well as one who was content with keeping her friends in check. Since I don't have my hearing protection, I get to witness her sound in full force.

Immediately after the opening note, Tzuyu comes in softly, sort of like a solemn current of air. She nuances the passionate concerto with delicate care and gratuity. There's no need for any musical ornaments — her music was so soft and sinuous, that it drew wondrous pictures in my head. Bona and Xuan Yi shaping a beautiful childhood for Sungyeon, and then a vision of Jeongyeon, Momo, Nayeon, Chaekyung, Sowon, Yerin, Mark, Junior, Jun, and Jackson finding a career that gives them the space to engage in a hobby that they adore — it imbues the idea that life does have a purpose and that everything you do holds a certain value to it. As musicians, we remind ourselves why we chose this career path in the first place.  

*RING*

And we persevere. 

Tzuyu's music climbs with the orchestra, gradually on feathers of prospect of the good life, prodding note after note for answers to questions that might never pose a bright solution. What is the meaning of life? What do we want the most out of it? What do you want to be remembered by? What does success mean to you? Are you working towards goals that you actually care about? What stands between you and happiness?

These are questions that I have yet to get figured out.

The choices we make, the way we waste time, the mindsets that we hold — these are all factors that will embody the life that you live.

It's kind of uplifting because many years from now on, you're going to look back at your older works and revel in how much you've accomplished. At a restaurant called The Starry Night, my private teacher came across a philosophy professor from Yale University. That professor shared the meaning of life and that the journey is more important than the destination, if there is one. Then my teacher relayed his words and shared them with me before the first semester of juries. Our journey through developing the life that we want will pose ways to seek understanding about ourselves and the world around us. Any development helps us to see an old problem in a new light and it opens up a new possible position.

The string section suggested the main theme again and the solo cello reshaped that singular theme into a fortissimo restatement. Tzuyu's bowing arm swayed in synch with the swells of her pensive music, fingers danced upon the fingerboard like a death dance. The seriousness of Elgar's composition began, the cello shifting from deep notes to high notes in longing for a meaning, just like The Artist in Symphonie Fantastique.

*RING*

The moment before you die, you wonder if you had lived out a purposeful life. At the funeral, you might have loved ones circling you, or you might not have anyone attend your funeral. You either die in peace at the thought that you've accomplished most (if not everything) that you wanted, or you die miserably, full of regret that you could've done something different or made adjustments to the course of your life. 

Tears sprouted in my eyes when I thought about how I could've avoided losing my hearing.

"But if there's something I learned from my many dreams, it's that being deaf isn't going to be the end of the world."

I didn't want to realize that I never really had a childhood.

Tzuyu continued playing immense pizzicato chords on the cello until flourishing in a short yet extensive cadenza. Whenever the music became louder, it activated a sharp, suffocating stab in my head. It felt like worms crawling into my ear canals and up my brain.

I out. Images of my childhood began to emerge, from the time that I sang in response to my mother's lullabies to the time I was sitting in the piano room playing honky-tonks with Reina. My younger self exhibited something that my prodigy self struggled to display.

A smile.

More images came. There was no stress, no agony, and no fear in my younger self's eyes. She was just another kid who sought to enjoy her youth just like every other kid. She didn't have to get up at the break of dawn to practice, nor did she have to undergo the tortures of tinnitus after orchestra rehearsals. Before her bookshelves were crammed with musical scores and technique books, there were paperback children's books such as The Little Prince, Goodnight Moon, Where the Wild Things are, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and several works by Dr. Seuss. The first piece that she recited on the home-owned grand piano was not Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 28, but rather Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

So what should be the purpose of her life? Should she be able to have a "normal" childhood just like everybody else? Or should she take advantage of her potential and strive for even greater things, even if it meant the cost of her social and physical well-being?

Aristotle believed that with genius comes madness. Paganini, the most celebrated virtuosi of his time, was accused of being possessed by the devil when he played his violin. My parents wanted me to be a musician before anything else — a friend, a daughter, to the most extreme, a human being (according to those Interlochen kids that called me a robot). During interviews with classical music journalists, my mother would jump in to talk on my behalf. Either that or I would have to rehearse answers to questions that all journalists tend to ask. Whenever the reporter asked me to play a piece for them, I would shoot an anxious glance to my mother and then my father, worrying about not reaching to the degree of their expectations. Other children in the neighborhood were making merry at Teardrop Park and I would be watching them from my practice room.

What's the point of memorizing scales and s, being disciplined in ear training, and sight-reading to sight-singing if I was going to lose these capabilities? All those years of training are about to go to waste because of a tumor. There was no purpose in those years after all. 

People pursue things thinking within those things, they will find meaning. These pursuits may include but are not limited to money, healthy relationships, happiness, being of service to others, or generally serving a purpose in their life. Many dreams uncover emptiness only after years have been wasted in chase of those dreams.

*squeeze*

Nayeon pinched my shoulder. It was the very end of Elgar's Cello Concerto, and every other musician had been standing up while I remained seated. I lurched to my feet and dizziness settled over my head as I carried my bassoon. I looked over at Nayeon and I believe that she's trying to talk to me. moves but there's no words spewing out from them. I can't even read her lips.

What is she saying?

I shook my head and looked back at the audience. They're also standing up and applauding for us as well. The only difference is, I can't hear them.

I scrambled from my seat, gathered my belongings, and hurriedly cracked open my instrument case, disassembling my bassoon rather clumsily before rummaging into the pockets for my medications. . Where is it? I dashed past an aisle of startled students who had just exited the sidelines, and they were either in exhaustion or crying in fear that I had gone nuts after running off stage for the hundredth time. My dress swayed with the direction of the nonexistent wind, and when I reached the dressing room, a surge of adrenaline rushed through my brain as my eyes met with the hearing protection that I was supposed to be wearing before the performance. 

Jesus Christ. What the is going on?

I think I'm losing it. I was trying to wake myself up from this appalling nightmare. There was no doubt that my earplugs were sitting on the table, yet I tried to convince myself that I had been dreaming. I looked down at my reed case and blew ten times into one of the reeds. No noise. Nothing. 

Is this real?

I couldn't keep up with myself; fatigue strolled inside my head and before I knew it, terrible vertigo would occur. Breathing spasms would also take place before everything faded to black. The thought of going back to dark was disastruous, but I couldn't avoid it. The last person I see is Sana, sweat beaded on her forehead as she crashed down on her knees. 

A/N: I apologize for not having updated Silent Sonata lately. I intended to update last week but one of my profs assigned a project last minute and that was due on the following Tuesday, so I've been prioritizing my schoolwork for the time being. I promise that I haven't given up on writing anytime soon.  

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