The club was packed tonight. The lights weren't much more than a dim glow, but they illuminated the dark room just enough to contribute to the magic.
This was Gwen's first night performing here. Of course she had frequented the business as a customer, but as for performing? This was her first time.
This was her first time playing anywhere, actually.
And that's why Gwen's stomach was a mess of nerves.
Take a deep breath
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Outwardly, she was cool and composed. Her red hair was pinned to perfection, allowing but a few strands to flow freely on each side of her face. Similarly her makeup was applied with great care. Her green eyes were accentuated by dark eyeliner that led to long lashes, then down to her lips which were painted a glossy burgundy.
She wore a simple black, lace dress that rose upon her neck with its high collar then fell dramatically in a slight flare to her calves.
But how Gwen looked on the outside didn't matter nearly as much as what she felt on the inside. On the inside, she felt as if she was suffocating.
She was trying to stay calm and remind herself why she had taken this job in the first place. But as soon as she peered through the heavy curtain at the crowd, everyone in their seats, waiting for her, her panic levels were rapidly restored.
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How had she ever thought that this was a good idea?
"Tonight," the owner's voice suddenly announced from the stage, "we have a new performer who will be playing Debussy's Clair de Lune. A hidden gem of our town, she has been playing piano for seven years and this is her very first public performance! Please, put your hands together for Gwendolyn Wells!"
Clapping echoed through the building and Gwen sucked in a large breath. Okay. This was happening. There was no backing out now. Was her stomach supposed to be churning like this?
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"-en. Gwen!"
A rough hand shook her shoulder, tearing her away from her thoughts. She turned to find Kathy, the woman who had recruited her for this job.
"Gwen, are you alright?" she asked.
"Yes?" Gwen squeaked.
Kathy's eyes widened at her response, but there was hardly anything she could do now. She had to go out there.
She patted Gwen's shoulder comfortingly than shoved her forward just past the curtain and onto the stage. "Good luck!" she whispered.
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Gwen's eyes widened as the crowd stared at her. Now she really had to do this.
She straightened her back and flexed her fingers at her sides before walking shakily across the wooden stage, her high heels clacking loudly in the near silent room.
She pulled the black piano bench out slightly, the legs scraping against the floor. Gwen closed her eyes against the embarrassment. 788Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWpIBQ19rR6
This was going to be a blast.
Once adjusted to the correct height, Gwen sat down and placed her foot atop the damper pedal. She experimentally pressed down on it. At least it felt broken in. No one wanted to play on a newly tightened pedal.
Someone in the crowd coughed and a few others shuffled in their seats expectantly. Gwen stretched out her fingers once more as she positioned them over the correct keys, took a steadying breath, then began.
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Luckily Clair de Lune was slow. If you could master the dynamics then you could play the piece with little difficulty. And Gwen had been sure to master the dynamics.
Her first few stanzas felt shaky, unsure. But when she realized she had already come this far, that she had already been mortified, she began to wonder how much worse her playing could really be. That thought's what helped her let go.
Her nerves were still singing with each strike of the keys but they were much more controlled than they had before. This was a manageable situation.
When the B section of the piece came, Gwen let the music run through her. The crowd disappeared and suddenly it was just her and the Aeolian.
She leaned perfectly into each tenuto and played the the multitude of eighth notes with unfathomed grace.
She was doing much better than she had initially thought she would perform.
And once again you're reassured
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When Gwen returned to the A section, she was reminded of the familiar warmth and comfort of music despite being in public.
She remembered why she had taken up piano in the first place and why she had stuck with it years later. It made her feel. She could express every emotion within herself with nothing more than contradicting motions of her hands.
Her fingers acted as a conductor for all the conflict she experienced to flow through the keys, creating, not damage, but instead something beautiful.
With music, Gwen could take something negative and turn it into an art.
That's why she had convinced herself to take this job. She had known she could do this, she just had to let go first.
She met the diminuendo ritardando with ease and gradually coalesced the piece into a heartbreaking finale.
Her fingers held the last notes for their full value, then slowly lifted both her hands off the keys and her foot off the pedal.
The club erupted into astonished clapping while Gwen rose from the bench and curtsied before them.
That was another thing about music. Once you got past the initial nerves, you were overcome with a sense of calm that made you feel invincible.
She would definitely be performing at the club again.
A/N:
This was certainly a difficult challenge! Sorry about my inability to write lyrics, but I tried.
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