Play Me Darkly by Aidèe Jaimes EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Aidèe Jaimes
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 2 MB
LEILA
Five Years Ago…
He’s watching me. I can sense his gaze like the charge of electricity in the air
just before a thunderstorm. Powerful. Terrifying. Thrilling.
For as long as I’ve been performing for an audience, he’s been there. First
at the church. Now here at El Teatro Real in a private box that’s always
reserved just for him. Every time, he’s there. And though I don’t see him, I’m
aware of his presence in the shadows.
My dark phantom.
Play for me.
I’ve never met him. Never heard him speak. Yet I can hear the words
clearly in my mind. The same words I find written on the note tucked in the
crimson roses he has sent to my dressing room before every performance.
Play for me.
I look away from the shadowed balcony to peek out to the audience,
searching for the single little face that is my world. My reason for being on
this stage right now. When I find my six-year-old son sitting in the first row,
beside the man who’s been appointed as his guardian, I give him the smile I
reserve only for him.
Grinning back at me, he sits up straighter, so proud that he’s the son of a
popular violinist, completely oblivious to the irony of it all. That if I weren’t
popular, we’d be together. That I’d get to see him every day. Hold him every
day.
“I love you, Cristian,” I mouth and blow him a kiss, the vise that is regret
constricting my throat. I won’t hold him today. But if I do this, I might get to
tomorrow.
I glance up to the shadows one last time, wondering if my phantom can
see the pain I’m in. Then I bring my white violin to my shoulder and place
my chin on the rest. The din of the audience fades as all the lights except the
one directly above me are turned off.
Lifting the bow so that the hair is only an inch from the strings, I shut my
lids. Inhale. Exhale.
Play for me.
His command skitters over me and I draw the bow lightly over the
strings, playing that first note. The sweet melody I’ve been instructed to play
flows from me easily. “My Light.” A crowd favorite that I wrote when
Cristian was born.
It used to be a sweeter melody, but the uglier side of life has begun to
take its toll on me and the notes come out dulled. That is until I remind
myself that even though I’m being forced to do this by a pathetic weasel, I’m
not playing for him.
I pull my bow slowly down, then up once sharply as I envision Cristian’s
face the first time I saw it. His first steps. First words. As I recall the warm
hues of his eyes in sunlight, so do my notes lighten.
Play for me.
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