1 I | belle âme

Belle Evans

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My eyelids kissed gently, eliminating all sense of sight and reality. Discarding all thoughts, I fixate myself on the euphonious melody of the symphony. I positioned my hands to float above the keys, waiting to be part of the harmony. I gently caress the keys, consuming the cool surface that thaws my heart with recollection and feeling.

I waited with anticipation, my heartbeat following the accelerated tempo. Noticing the gradual stately melody, I open my eyes to the shiny onyx instrument in front of me, trying to overlook the crowded concert hall. I glimpse at the green of the fall board that faintly reflects my eyes.

The conductor glanced at me, baton in hand, and with a graceful movement I was immersed in the composition.

My fingers thrust into the keys, following the baton's smooth flow. The vibrations beneath me spread throughout my body causing my hairs to rise. I felt the sweat forming on my skin as my finger rushes to persevere the mellow sound. My head swayed and bobbed to the music, deepening the trance.

Then my mind became a void. My fingers, hands, and arms moved on its own with the familiar sounds of vibrating octaves. The strings, the woodwinds, the brass, and the percussions, all in unity, submitting to the conductor.

I breath, trying not to acknowledge the truth.

I wasn't playing the piano, the piano was playing me.

Belle.

Belle Evans.

"Ms. Evans?"

I pulled my fingers away from the piano and was brought back to reality.

The concert hall turned back into a musty large storage room where the only light emitting the room was a single, half-open window that viewed the neighboring brick wall. The grand onyx instrument became an ancient upright piano that clearly hasn't been tuned in over a decade. And the hundreds of people seated in the concert hall turned into one 8-year-old girl. One of my student.

"Ms. Evans?" Olivia called once again. "That songs sounds too hard to play."

I blinked twice before I gave her one of my professional smiles. "Oh Olivia, I was just checking how tune the piano is," I lied. "But I promise you, if you continue playing piano with your fast progression, this song will be nothing than a walk in the park."

"Really?!" she squeaked, giving me one of her gummy smiles.

I nod and patted her head. "Of course. Now... will you show me how to play Amazing Grace?"

_

Locking my apartment door, I threw my purse and apron on one of the dining stools and threw myself onto the soft, grey couch.

Burying my face into the soft cushion, I blindly search for the remote on the table and turned on the television to eradicate the suffocating silence.

I wish to once again immerse myself in my dream just like how I was early today. I tried to recreate the music and the collaboration of different instruments, but the background noises of KOMO Seattle news station manage to mix into my thoughts. Now there was nothing but a cacophony of brass, woodwinds, weather, and business jargon. It was difficult to daydream a music performance when the news reporter keeps rambling about rain and the ARC stocks.

Sighing, I brushed my black hair off my face, turned off the television, and walked towards the balcony which peered over a quiet street outside the city. I would feel more inspirational if I was peering over a sixty-two floor balcony on top of the entire city of Seattle, but unfortunately I don't have that much money for that kind of luxury.

Ring.

Jumping at the sudden ringtone, I quickly followed the noise to the dining stool, reached into my purse and answered my phone.

"Hello?" I said into it.

"Hello, is this Belle Evans?" said a silvery male voice.

"Yes and who is this?"

"My name is Grayson Park and I'm the manager of Boulevard des Rêves, a restaurant in downtown Seattle. I got your number from a bar of one of your recent gigs and I was hoping you can fill in for tonight's performance."

Boulevard des Rêves. My mouth dropped. Boulevard des Rêves takes over three floors, forty to forty-three, of one of Seattle's towers and serves some of France's finest cuisines. Usually only those who were rich enough to splurge can dine at the restaurant and indulge themselves with escargot and fondue.

And to think that I have the opportunity to perform in such a high class place.

"I would love to Mr. Park!"

"Perfect! I'll text you the time, location, and preferable attire. When you walk in, just ask the hostess for my name."

"Great, I'll see you then." With that he ended the call and not a minute after, I received the text.

After reading the text message for the twenty third time, I embraced my phone and jumped back onto the couch, trying to hide the huge smile on my face.

After two years of small gigs and teaching piano, I'm finally going to see some progression with my career. I'm tired of everyday being the same unremarkable routine.

I tightened my lips, easing my grin.

This year will be different. I know it.

With a deep breath, I looked at the text one more time before racing to my room.

Little did I know that this gig would change my life forever.