“ ‘I’m sorry, but why don’t you leave me and enjoy your life.’
‘All right.’
She closes the chatting page peacefully, but tears stream down her face.”
“Hell no,” Dale deletes all the words she had just tapped on the lap-top. “Such a cliché.”
Dale is a writer for a woman magazine. She has constantly received hurry-up texts and phone calls these days because deadline is approaching and she still hasn’t finished the last part for her short story. Dale sighs exhaustedly and looks at the calendar. March 25. A date shines with glory. A date she once cheerfully decorated with hearts and flowers. A date pushes her to stand up and tidy up herself. It seems like that our poor writer won’t finish anything today, again. However, we can’t blame her too harshly today because it’s her big day. Her dear boyfriend, a pianist, is coming home.
“How lovely he is.” Dale murmurs when she is practicing smiling in front of the mirror. She wants to show the fairest smile to her dear pianist after one month’s parting. During which, the talented young pianist holds an extraordinary concert. Dale’s so proud of him. One month goes too slowly for the young lady in love, but everything deserves to scarify for his career, waiting, money, tears, and her current job maybe. Dale suddenly begins to feel upset about his schedule, for which she has to wait and see him until dinner time. She dreams to finish her stupid works and then rewards herself with a lovely night, but she can’t focus her attention on her work now. She tries hard to work on her story, but her mind just wanders away and hides inside memories with the pianist. The first time they met each other in the light of sunset. Orange sunlight sculpted the pretty outline of that young pianist and carved it prettier than David. His dark hair danced in the wind rhythmically. His shy smile melted Dale’s hearts and his magnetic voice makes her feel like floating in the air. “I know I’ll be with him at my first glance at him.” Dale smiles like a schoolgirl, and her mind jumps into another memory. Finally, an angry voice wakes her up, “Dale, can’t you hurry up for your story? I don’t want to remind you the deadline again.” “Oh, oh, sorry. Sure I will……” Busy tone raises before her words finishes. Dale shrugs, but she still decides to forget the deadline today. Is there anything more important than her pianist’s triumphant return now? Absolutely not.
Dale picks up her phone on the desk, clicks the phone number, but hangs up the phone quickly before it works. She can’t phone him. She never knows what he’s doing, which seems strange between lovers, but Dale believes that enough personal space is essential in the relationship, especially with her sensitive and charming pianist. She once went to her pianist’s working place, hoping to give him a surprise, but only to find he had an affair with a female fellow musician. She said nothing and left. It was the pianist who apologized in their huge fight. Holding a branch of roses, her dear pianist gave detailed answers to all her questions and sworn that all his action was for their performance and he’ll never do that again with body on his knees. Besides that, the pianist begged Dale to believe him and leave him some personal space. They reached an agreement: for pianist, he must be faithful to Dale; and for Dale, she can’t interrupt her pianist’s inspiration, which means, his work. The agreement seems work well so far, so Dale decides to obey the agreement. She loves her pianist so much that she can forgive him millions of times, and also she doesn’t want to embarrass herself again. Whether he is practicing alone, rehearsing with band, or communicating with his colleagues, male or female, Dale doesn’t want to think about it, as long as he still loves her.
Dale soon drafts a long, sweet message, but she deletes it all and replaces it with a few words, “Are we going to somewhere tonight?” Sent. “Sure we will.” Dale puts her phone randomly on the desk and leaves for makeup and perfume. Humming Schubert’s “The Trout”, which her pianist once recommended to her as her happy song, she wears some perfume. Her pianist likes milk without sugar, so Dale makes herself smell like a bottle of pure milk. The phone vibrates. Dale flies to the desk. “Well, yes, if you want to,” her pianist replies.
What does that mean! Dale stares at the screen, astonished. “Shouldn’t we meet each other and celebrate? We’ve been apart for one month!” Send? “No, you can’t reply like that.” Dale deletes her message again and tries to calm down. Don’t push him too hard. Come on, good girl. So here’s what Dale sends:
“It’s ok if you are tired and don’t want to come out for dinner. Have a good rest.”
“Ok.” Soon the reply comes, concise and hurtful.
Dale leans against the wall and slowly slides until she hits the floor. Burying her head deeply in her arms, her belt makes herself breathless, she so she loosens it to make herself more comfortable. She doesn’t need it to beatify herself now. There’s no pianist tonight.
Orange sunlight slips into the room, depicting Dale’s long and thin shadow on the floor. Another sunset. With no appetite for dinner, Dale pulls her lap-top besides her and roughly reviews the story she has done. That’s no excuse for her to finish nothing, but her brain seems to be frozen. She can’t even organize any new sentences. She tapes the keyboard numbly:
“ ‘I’m sorry, but why don’t you leave me and enjoy your life.’
‘All right.’
She closes the chatting page peacefully, but tears stream down her face.”
Dale suddenly throws the lap-top away and grapes her phone. She bites her lower lip so hard that the pain makes her crazy.
“<angrier > What on earth happened?” Dale sends that message impulsively without thinking. Sent. She frees her lower lip and begins to feel cold. Outside, the sun has disappeared already. Slight orange sunlight mingles with darkness. Dale feels like her heart is hanging up highly and helplessly on a breakable thread which connects her and the young pianist. The message she just sent is the dangerous scissor. She can’t bear that thrill any more.
“Please, please don’t be mad at me. I’m not blaming on you. I just miss you so much and……” Dale hasn’t finished drafting her words when she receives the new message from her pianist. Trembling, she clicks it and reads every word on it.
Back to her unfinished message, she deletes all the words she edited before and replaces them with two words simply: “All right.” Throwing her phone on the floor, Dale buries her head into arms again. Tears stream down her face. It’s totally dark outside now.
Let’s peek on her screen, which is still unlocked:
“Sorry, but maybe you should free yourself from me and enjoy your happy life.”
“All right.”
