Chopin Op. 64 No. 3
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Azrael stands next to the man on stage. His short stature is on display and his slightly nervous emotion is not plainly visible on his otherwise calm-looking face. I only know that he's nervous because I'm used to seeing his face and know his habits. How he tilts his head in and ducks a little. How some of his weight rests more on whatever foot that is slightly behind the other.
I know him well.
"Some of you may know," continues the man, "but this is Azrael Durst, CEO of Garner Inc. He's also a personal friend of mine."
The man sets a hand on Azrael's shoulder and pats it softly before continuing to talk again.
"He was able to provide for us this concert hall. Was more than happy to actually. And as a wrap up to this show tonight, he'll be performing his own music for us!"
The man smiles at Azrael and then departs behind the curtains. Azrael smiles at the crowd as he walks over to the piano at the center of the stage, followed by the clapping of everyone.
Thinking back now, maybe only one and a half months ago when I had the conversation about hobbies with Azrael in his office, he mentioned that he played piano. But the way he phrased it sounded as if he only knew the bare minimum to be considered as knowledgeable.
Sitting down at the stool of the piano, he takes a moment to breath in and out before raising his hands and playing. I didn't know he could play music, but I do now. The tune that he plays is not specifically sad, but it's not bright either. Maybe it's tone is lighter, however there is a melancholy aspect to it.
Whatever emotion it gives to the person listening, there's no doubt that Azrael is playing the music very well. His entire body shifts as he plays, and he leans slightly forward as he does so. It's amazing how much my boss who in his office would sometimes be slumped against his chair is now sitting almost relaxed as he plays. The silence of the audience tells me that they are enjoying this as much as me.
No, they're not. I'm enjoying it more than them. The fingers that would work tirelessly writing and typing at my workplace tonight are part of the show as they move gracefully but without any waste to each key on the piano.
It's quite obvious he knows more than just the bare minimum. Azrael clearly can play than he would let on. I don't know if the song being played is difficult at all, but the fashion he lets the notes echo out tells me that there's more present here than just skills. The sound that he makes with the instrument is not amateur, but I can tell it's well developed.
The fact that Azrael didn't quite disclose to me that this event here tonight was were he'd be going is bit of an insult. He didn't even indicate that music was involved with his plans. I wish he had though, and it would strike me that as his assistant he would tell me his plans for the night and what he was going to do.
Wouldn't he want to tell me that? That his plans for the night were going to be as such. The reality that he didn't hurts me a little, and makes me realize that maybe I've not really been able to eliminate the distance between Azrael and myself.
I started talking with Azrael since I arrived at Garner Inc. two months ago and have been able to fit into my workplace very well. But the relationship I have with Azrael and myself hasn't moved forward at all. It's just been boss and assistant. Nothing more has developed.
I wish now that it could be more. I could have made it more, but have not been able to.
But instead of taking any more time contemplating the background and how we are to each other, I focus back on Azrael and his amazing piano music.
Unfortunately, the song he's chosen is rather short and in less than a few minutes of playing it's over. I want him to continue and am almost shouting out to tell him to play more when he stands to the ovation of the audience. My voice would not be able to reach him over the clapping.
Azrael stands from the chair and comes to the front of the piano with modest smile. Leaving a hand on the piano he bows once, still smiling and than says thank-you, before walking off stage to disappear behind the curtains: he didn't see me at all. His eyes didn't even wander over to my section of the audience where I was seated. With Christine. Her presence seems to be destroyed by the appearance of Azrael here in the concert.
But my eyes linger on the dark spot in the curtain that was where I last saw Azrael's retreating back. Even when we're leaving the concert hall, Christine and I, that's still what's apparent in my mind. We leave outside into the night where the sun has set already and the cool evening is setting in. Even when I'm walking with Christine and leaving the crowd and becoming our own little pair that heads to a restaurant a bit away, I still think back to the piano and Azrael. I told Christine about the restaurant I had in mind to her when we were leaving the concert hall. She leads the way there as I who am caught in the recent musical performance cannot lead myself anywhere.
Which is how now, I sit in a restaurant without really remembering the way here. And also not having lived through it, being lost in my mind instead.
Sitting at a table together, Christine and I sit and wait for the food we ordered a bit ago. The restaurant has soft music giving ambience to the room. Quite a few tables sit around the restaurant, and a good number of them are occupied. Waiters bustle around and serve wine and bread, platters of steaming food and the ones without anything fresh on it being carried back to the kitchens.
"Did you enjoy the music?" asks Christine as she tries to make conversation.
I've been rather silent after we left the concert hall, and even before that I might've been stitched in the lips.
"I did," I say honestly.
Well, not all of it. More like the last bit of it.
"Did you enjoy it?" I ask Christine, trying to make conversation as well.
"I really did," replies Christine, "I think there was some Mozart that was played by the orchestra."
"Really?" I ask as I try to make her talk more so that I don't have to.
"Yeah. I think it may have been the fourth song that was played," she replies.
"I didn't notice. Or know," I say honestly and take a sip from my water glass
"I only know because I listen to that kind of music when I have to treat patients at the hospital. That is, I play some serene classical music to calm some of the stressed patients," says Christine.
"How was it listening to the actual music instead of the recorded ones?"Â i ask.
"Well, there's definitely more noise involved. The recorded music I listen to I can turn down. But in the concert hall the music was very loud. Not in a bad way, just loud as in the instruments were meant to be that way," says Christine, "it was a pretty good shock. I never realized it."
"Realized what?" I ask, and Christine tilts her head.
"Realized that I couldn't turn down the volume of the music," answers Christine, and I realize she just explained that to me.
"Oh, sorry," I say.
Christine tilts her head more and gives me a worried look. but a waitress brings our food and the conversation pauses and forgets itself for a moment as we have an interruption. I start to eat the bread that came with my pasta, and Christine begins to dine on her pasta.
"Um, Hogarth?" start Christine, and I'm raising my eyes from my plate and starting to say a 'yes' when she says what she thinks.
"You don't love me, do you?"
I'm taken back and my neck pulls backward at her question. I also almost drop the bread that I took a bite of and left in my mouth. I duck forward and put out my hand to keep it there, and once I swallow it I answer her.
"I...what do you mean?" I ask, still surprised that she's asking me this question.
"You don't have to lie, and it's not offending me," says Christine with a soft smile, "but I get the impression that you're thinking about somebody else. That you're not really thinking about me."
Christine is not wrong, and has with bull's-eye accuracy stated exactly what is in my mind. That I'm thinking about somebody else besides her. Somebody who is more close to my heart.
"You don't have to lie, Hogarth. I know, and it's fine," says Christine as I realize that it takes a while for me to answer, and instead I'm frozen solid in my seat.
I get the impression that she's not trying to corner me at all as her tone is calm and almost understanding. But I still am unable to talk comfortably and sit rigidly still in my seat.
"If it's anything," says Christine in the absence of my words, "I have to confess that I also was starting to realize that maybe you weren't the one who I'd be with forever. Not that it's bad, it's just...maybe we weren't meshing well."
Her admission shakes me from my silence and I start to talk again. Finally.
"I...yes, it's true," I admit, "I have been thinking about somebody else in your presence. Maybe because......I like somebody else more. Than you, that is. I'm sorry if that offend you."
"I'm not offended," replies Christine with a smile, "and not as retaliation, but I was also thinking about another person as well. Probably not as much as you. But I guess my heart is moving on from the realization that you and I are not meant for one another."
"I hope that you aren't hurt by my feelings," I say, and Christine smiles again softly.
"I'm not Hogarth. I know that you're a good person, and it's probably helped by the fact that I'm not as interested as I was in you, but it's not wounding my heart that I'm not loved by you. Not romantically, that is," answers Christine.
I nod, and for a few minutes I eat my meal in the last date we'll have. It's sad. Even I won't miss her too badly, it would be a lie to say that I will miss spending time with her.
"Do you," I start to ask, and Christine is all ears, "think that we will be able to hang out still? As friends?"
Christine smiles and nods.
"Of course! Why ever not?"
"That's good," I say with a smile, "I enjoy spending time with you."
"May I ask who it was that is on your mind?" asks Christine.
I would want to at least provide the answer to her since she has been in a relationship with me for a long time. She deserves at least that much.
"It's my boss. Azrael," I admit, and Christine nods before smiling knowingly.
"Yeah," she says with a chuckle, "I had an inclination that's who it was."
"When?" I ask, getting a smile on my own face as well.
"During the last portion of the concert. When he came out onto the stage. You jumped in your seat and your eyes were on him the whole time," she says.
"Oh. I guess I might've been obvious about that," I say as I blush.
"But when I think about Azrael," says Christine, "I can say that I can't compete with him. You have a good chance of getting him thought. You've got it in you."
I blush, and Christine laughs. To hide my embarrassment I stuff my face, and soon we're done with our meals. Paying up, we leave the restaurant after a while of more talk. Before parting ways Christine gives me a kiss on the cheek with the ending of our love relationship. But with the promise of friendship instead placed there.
Riding the metro home, I go through my daily process at my apartment of getting ready for bed. Change, shower, dental hygiene. Nothing that different from usual.
After everything though, and once I've turned off the light in my bedroom to sleep now, the fact that I'm no longer in a relationship with Christine sets in. It's not a jump into freedom from an enemy. It is nice thought. Christine and I have both let each other go.
That release though clearly lets me pursue anything I want. I can chase whoever I want to. And Azrael is at the top of my list.
So now, I can have a relationship with Azrael, just as I want.