She sighed and smoothed her hands down her trademark strapless, black satin evening dress. The black ink of the phoenix tattooed on her right inner forearm stood out starkly against her pallor. She’d gotten the tattoo after her parents’ death, symbolic of her rising out of the ashes of the depression that had consumed her for months.
Katia was known in the concert circle as the Angel of the Night. Her dark, soulful, melancholic violin pieces were what had made her famous. The unshakeable darkness that had descended upon her in the absence of her family — the only people with whom she’d felt connected — had made her gravitate toward compositions that pierced her heart. The music allowed her to feel something, even if it was pain and sadness. When she played she exorcised the darkness that had pervaded her life. Every night on stage she was baring her soul to the audience, scars and all.
Oddly, it was the dark shadow of depression eclipsing her life that had ultimately led to her greatest musical success. Prior to the accident, Katia had been well-known in the musical world, however it had been as a part of a string quartet. Now audiences packed the concert hall whenever she was billed to play in order to share in the cathartic experience.
Sergei, her pianist, came over to do a last minute check in the mirror. “Two minutes to show time, gorgeous. Are you ready to go?” He moved to stand behind her with his hands resting on her shoulders. Katia gave a small smile and nodded to their joint reflections. He really was a sweet man. He was also a handsome man — dark hair and fair like her, light brown eyes that caught the light and twinkled with laughter, with a friendly, open face. He had an easy smile for everyone and always seemed to be there in a crisis. He truly cared for everyone in his life.
Sergei squeezed her shoulders and moved away toward the piano at center stage. The curtains were closed and the lights were dimming. Sergei was a fantastic guy. Katia should want to be with him, but she had never felt that electric connection with him that she thought should be there. On the surface, they were perfect for each other. They were both professional musicians…creative people. Though he was almost ten years her junior, they looked the same age. They’d been performing together for five years, and there was likely nobody that knew her better. Katia was naturally a very private person; Sergei was really the only one she’d even given a glimpse of her personal life within the last decade. All her other relationships were very superficial. He wanted more from her. He was the logical choice, but not her heart’s choice. Sometimes she thought, Screw my heart. Maybe it’s time to listen to my brain, but she still hadn’t been able to bring herself to take that step. They were stuck in limbo, each other’s perpetual date to music industry functions, but nothing beyond that. Sergei had kissed her once after a performance as they had been leaving the concert hall. It had been pleasant, but hadn’t set her on fire. Maybe, she thought, the fire was overrated.
As Katia took a quick glance in the mirror, a familiar strange sensation made the back of her neck prickle. It was something that happened with alarming frequency — she’d get the strangest sensation that someone was watching her. It was almost as though, if she stared hard enough, she would be able to see someone observing her from the other side of the mirror. Shaking off the creepy feeling, Katia pivoted and grabbed her violin off the adjoining table.
One more deep breath and she strode out onto the stage. She took her position near the piano as the curtains parted. The audience broke into applause that thundered in her ears, echoing the rhythm of the blood rushing through her veins. Her nerves disappeared as the applause died out, leaving her at the center of the lit stage staring out into pitch blackness.
With the stage lights on and the house lights off, she couldn’t see the hundreds of concert-goers that were in attendance. She felt cocooned in her own private world, a world in which she could pour out her heart and soul. The opening piano strains flowed out into the night. Katia closed her eyes and let go. The music began to pour through her as she let all the sadness she held in her heart rise to the surface.
Once she began to play, all sense of time and space vanished, leaving her in a world of pure music and feeling. She was unaware of transitioning from one piece to the next as they all felt like an extension of herself. Sergei’s accompaniment was the perfect backdrop for her playing. He allowed her music to transport the audience.
As Katia played, she felt an errant tear slip out of her eye and trail slowly down her cheek. It was a relief to be able to cry during her performances as she seemed unable to at any other time. Even during her parents’ funeral, the tears hadn’t come. She often wondered if something inside her was broken, something that could only be fixed temporarily through her music — like she was gluing pieces of her heart back together — only to have them smashed apart as soon as the real world intruded.
As she played the last lingering notes ofthe final piece of the night, she took another deep breath, bracing to face reality again. The audience remained silent for several drawn-out moments. This always happened; the music was played with so much emotion it was impossible not to be affected. Suddenly, thunderous applause filled the air, making Katia’s head pound. She took an elegant bow as per custom and motioned toward Sergei, who had risen from the
