Hea Jung was trembling as she walked into the building, her hands tightly holding on to her iPod.

 

She forgot it.

 

Forgot it.

 

She had somehow forgotten the entire second movement in the middle of the subway ride.

 

........She had somehow forgotten the entire second movement in the middle of the subway ride.

 

Why is this happening to me?

 

Her body was numb and she was aware that she was still trembling. She took Jae’s hand and held on to it as if it could help the notes suddenly pop back into that stupid brain of hers. Stupidly, she had forgotten to download into her iPod the night before, resulting in having no way to trigger her memory of the forgotten second movement.

 

Out of all days????

 

Jae’s hand squeezed hers reassuringly and she was grateful. If she had been alone right now….

 

Her fingers ached, clawing at her jeans, trying desperately to figure out the second movement. If only she could regain any section, any bar of movement, just something to work with. Just anything, anything, that might be able to help her grasp or regain memory of the movement. She was racking her brain, and out of frustration, it seemed like she couldn’t even think clearly.

 

Her panic rose, and she could feel her heart thudding in her chest,

 

Thump Thump. Thump. Thump.

 

She gripped at Jae’s hand, her knuckles turning a milky white as they sat in the waiting room chairs.

 

“Samuel Romano. Number 128”

 

Hea Jung glanced down at the number she had hastily scrawled on to her arm this morning before she departed.

 

129.

 

She was next, and she still didn’t know the second movement. Her fingers on her lap twitched, close to recalling the way they ran across the keys in the second movement, but not quite. They did not recall enough.

 

She willed her fingers to come to life, the muscles in them remembering the way the second movement was played, the way it sounded on the keyboard.

 

But her fingers stayed limp in her lap, unable to remember.

 

“Are you okay?” Jae whispered in her ear, putting his other hand over top of hers.

 

She shook her head, unable to speak.

 

Jae whispered each syllable slowly. “Dang.”

 

“Sin.”

 

“Eun.”

 

“Gwaen”

 

“Chanh”

 

“eul.”

 

“Geos.”

 

“Ib.”

 

“Ni.”

 

“Da.”

 

“Hea.” He breathed, lastly.

 

You will be okay.

 

Hea.

 

She nodded, closing her eyes and letting out a breath.

 

Gomawo, Jae.

 

“Hea Jung Kim. Number 129.”

 

She squared her shoulders and stood up, trying to convince herself that her second movement was ready. She didn’t want to let go of Jae’s hands. Without them, she wasn’t quite sure if she would be able to stay reassured.

 

“It’s your turn.” Jae said quietly, giving her a small smile.

 

She nodded and turned, letting her hands fall from Jae’s hold. When his fingers dropped back down to his lap, they were still tingling with the lingering touch of her skin.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Hea Jung didn’t look back as she went through the door, her back straight, a little too rigid. The auditorium was dim, and she her eyes adjusted slowly to the darkness of the large room. Three adults - audition admissions people, she assumed, sat in a desk at the foot of the stage, sipping from their coffee as they watched her come in.

 

She tried not to be unnerved by their gazes.

 

“Miss Hea Jung Kim?”

 

“Yes.” She replied, trying her best to sound bold. She had never been very good with public speaking or presenting herself confidently.

 

The man inspected her program that lay in the folder in front of him, along with her other personal information. “Impressive…” He murmured to the woman next to him.

 

She nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line as her eyes ran over the list of pieces. She didn’t seem very impressed.

 

“Well, we can’t wait to hear you play, Hea Jung.”

 

“Thank you.” She shakily took her feet up the steps to the stage.

 

One step at a time….

 

Thankfully, she didn’t fall flat on her face. She took her seat at the piano bench, placing her hands lightly on the keys of the Steinway and Sons grand piano. Her first piece, a relatively modern piece by Debussy, ran through her head.

 

Go with it. It’s okay, Hea.

 

She took a deep breath.

 

And she just went.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~