July Fever

-Cello music playing-

1

There was a moment of silence before Finley picked up this cello again.

It was midnight in July, and the crickets sang outside Finley’s window, making patterned noises as Finley flipped the sheet music to the next page. He didn’t bother to close the window because he was really in the position to play music, he didn’t hate the sounds of crickets, too.

There was a big performance coming up for him, it was his first solo concert, in his dream theater. It all felt like a fantasy to him, how successful he became as a cellist. He was one of the special kind of artists who caught his dream in the air while others continued to fail. Finley thought they were losers for giving up the music dream and switching paths to whatever they were doing right now. He didn’t care much, though, he just wanted to focus on his important performance.

Finley walked out of his door, he needed to take a walk after hours of practicing. His back was hurting so much that he had to put down his cello before he would possibly need to go to the doctor. He never liked the doctors, because they would tell him to stop playing cello and do something else that was better for his health. The doctor told him that he was too into playing the cello that he would starve for days and die, but he never believed it, though he rarely felt hungry while playing the cello.

Finley walked down the stairs, he lived on the third floor of the building. As he arrived on the 1st floor, he saw his landlord smoking cigarettes outside of his door.

“Finley,” the landlord called his name, “you still need to pay your rent, remember.”

Finley looked at him peacefully and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry about it.” Finley added, “I have a big performance coming up, I’ll get so much money that you can’t even imagine. Too much!”

The landlord shook his head and went back to his room

2

It was the day of the performance, Finley arrived at the theater before the performance. He was indeed nervous, but rather excited. It was his first time performing in front of thousands of people, it was a moment for him to shine after years of playing cello. He was wearing his fanciest suit with a colorful bow tie that he bought with the money he saved for years. He wanted to do his best, and also look his best for this performance.

He walked into the theater with his cello, there were already a few people there waiting for him. He was excited to perform for them. He waved to many of them whom he didn’t know, then he stepped on stage. He didn’t want the audience to wait boringly, so he decided to start playing a few pieces first. He took out his cello from the case and tightened the bow, then he put some rosin on the bow. He straightened his back for good posture, took a deep breath, and started playing a song that he practiced for ages.

Soon, the seats started filling up. He played, he played, he played…there was only one reason for him to be there, to play. To spread his love of music to others.

There was no one down there that he knew, but the audience itself made him grateful. He closed his eyes and played a piece that he had always wanted to play in front of a crowd. He had practiced it so many times that he memorized every single note on the sheet music. He lifted his bow in the air and then placed it back on the string to play his ending note.

He stood up, ready to bow. The audience applauded loudly, like thunder across the sky. He smiled proudly, warmly, as if there were no shades behind the lights.

His legs were shivering when he stood up from his chair, his vision was blurry, and his eyes were landing on his cello. He was lightheaded. He took a step forward, then fell onto the ground with his knees. He was, indeed, tearing up. He lay down on the ground because he lost all his energy from playing so much cello. He looked up at the ceiling and he could still hear the audience clapping. Finley closed his eyes and enjoyed the applause.

He was laughing hard, wildly, uncontrollably.

He put his hand on his forehead and it was burning hot. He noticed that he caught a fever, but he couldn’t care more. There was only one thing on his mind, his performance. How many people loved his music? It was the first time in his life that he had felt so much joy and delight. He breathed heavily, eyes closed, lips opened. He was trying to inhale music notes into his lungs, so he could live forever in the name of a musician. He cried, out of fortune. He felt so lucky, so well.

“Who’s that over there?”

Finley opened his eyes for a quick second, but he saw no one, except for the applauding audience.

“Sir, you need to leave, we don’t have a show today.”

“...”

“Sir! I said you need to leave!”

Finley chuckled softly, he felt rather tired. He could hear the sound of music in his mind even though it was silent. There was no one there with him, there never was, only the blank space and emptiness. There was only Finley himself, who continued to fall into the midnight summer’s dream.