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The Violinist Returns
Jan. 21st, 2013 02:21 amMatthew wasn't sure why he'd done it. The dust on the case alone was enough to remind him of how long it had been since he had touched the instrument. The simple violin his parents had scraped their money together to get him. He'd given her beautiful new strings, but he had never replaced her, no matter what anyone said. Even Lawrence had never managed to convince him.
He set the case on the table and stared at it for what felt like an hour. Feeling his own fingers twitching with memories. Lost in the music that never left his head, even if it had fled his heart long ago. He'd had little love for music since he closed that case. What he did, he did for the money, not for pleasure. So very different from what he'd set out for just under two decades ago. He reached for the case and hesitated, running his fingers through his hair and staring hard at the worn old case.
What if he couldn't actually play anymore? The notes were all their in his head. The chords, the positions, the tempos. But could he really still do it? Why should he? What did it matter?
If anyone could be around to see him hesitate like this... Matthew never hesitated. He never had these outward moments of pause and indecision. But no one was here, so no one would ever know. Why keep up the pretenses when he was alone?
Matt clicked open the case and slid the violin from the case, tuning it on auto pilot. When he finally lifted the instrument up to his shoulder it had been 3 hours since the time he pulled the case from it's stored space. Three long, conflicted hours. But there was a song in mind, and it was as good a song as any to see if his skill had vanished in his self-imposed removal from playing. He was lying back on the couch, the back of it folded back out of his way, and his own back to the door. The music coming from the violin one he had never played before but he knew the notes well, played them better. Hesitation gone and eyes closed as the bow slid along the strings and his fingers moved over never-forgotten chords.
He set the case on the table and stared at it for what felt like an hour. Feeling his own fingers twitching with memories. Lost in the music that never left his head, even if it had fled his heart long ago. He'd had little love for music since he closed that case. What he did, he did for the money, not for pleasure. So very different from what he'd set out for just under two decades ago. He reached for the case and hesitated, running his fingers through his hair and staring hard at the worn old case.
What if he couldn't actually play anymore? The notes were all their in his head. The chords, the positions, the tempos. But could he really still do it? Why should he? What did it matter?
If anyone could be around to see him hesitate like this... Matthew never hesitated. He never had these outward moments of pause and indecision. But no one was here, so no one would ever know. Why keep up the pretenses when he was alone?
Matt clicked open the case and slid the violin from the case, tuning it on auto pilot. When he finally lifted the instrument up to his shoulder it had been 3 hours since the time he pulled the case from it's stored space. Three long, conflicted hours. But there was a song in mind, and it was as good a song as any to see if his skill had vanished in his self-imposed removal from playing. He was lying back on the couch, the back of it folded back out of his way, and his own back to the door. The music coming from the violin one he had never played before but he knew the notes well, played them better. Hesitation gone and eyes closed as the bow slid along the strings and his fingers moved over never-forgotten chords.
