short story
The Audition
By Farai Kwesha | @fatsoRai | image source: theguardian.com
It
was 4:45pm, and Tatenda
might as well have been the
only one in the waiting room.
The only other person was his father,
and as far as Tatenda was concerned,
that was as good as no one at all. His
father appeared more nervous than he
the audition room.
This was the day he had been preparing since he was 5 when his parents
had invested in a grand piano. His
father always told him that as a toddler, Tatenda was always drawn to the
piano and would reach out his tiny
was – he would clasp then unclasp his
hands, pace up and down the room,
and at ten second intervals check his
watch. Tatenda thought he was being
overly theatrical, but it amused him
and as a consequence also put him
at ease. He shook his head as his eyes
followed his father across the room.
Save for the sound of his father’s
heavy breaths, the room was silent.
The silence was quickly broken by
the sound of a screeching door being
opened, and a young woman walking
into the room, evidently dejected. Her
eyes glistened – the looming threat of
tears apparent, prompting her to walk
the rest of the way out face-down. Tatenda gulped loudly as he stared on,
and suddenly he was uneasy again.
Following behind the young woman,
a man walked in and told him his audition was up. Not fully aware how,
Tatenda mustered up enough courage
to rise from his seat follow the man to
“Over the years, his
love for piano had only
grown stronger, only
surpassed by his parents’ love for his piano
playing.”
arms for the keys and start jabbing at
them. He remembered this in vivid
detail, and his first piano teacher – a
grumpy old German woman from his
prep school who cracked the whip on
him every time he missed a note. He
remembered how miserable she made
him.
Over the years, his love for piano had
only grown stronger, only surpassed
by his parents’ love for his piano playing. He was a prodigy. He played at
high school showcases, in church, and
at family events to rave reviews from
those who had the honour of watch-
ing him perform. During his high
school talent show in his senior year,
a recruiter from Juliard had asked
him to audition for a scholarship in
their music programme, much to his
parents’ elation.
And now, here he was. The only thing
standing between him and a future
in his craft was the door to the audition room. He grasped the door knob
tightly, looked at his father’s anxious
countenance, then at the door knob
again, and finally the floor. “Was this
what he really wanted? Did he want
to spend the rest of his life playing
piano?” All these were complex questions his mind cavorted on with no
definitive answer, but the one that followed was a much more determined
question. Was playing the piano his
dream or his parents’? He began to
think deeply. To find the answer to
this question he had to reach far beyond the limits of his mind, but he
couldn’t. Tatenda looked at his father’s eager face once more, and suddenly it hit him.
He loved piano, he always had, but
along the way that love had been
tainted by his parents. Although with
noble intentions, they had adulterated his love for piano because now
he only played as a filial duty – he did
it for them.
After this epiphany, Tatenda slowly
began to release his hand from the
door knob and stepped away from the
door. He looked at his father intently
and said, “I have to do this for me”
and walked out of the room.
JULY 2015. CM. Page 29