It was transposed. Of course it was. The only two people in the room who did not know were Richter and Amber. The moment Leo began to sing, his mind cleared. The song was a bastardized transcription of the original. It was in F sharp minor instead of D Minor, and slowed down. Besides changing every note, this was the first time he played with this accompanist.

This song experiment was entirely his professor’s idea, but the moment he sang the first note he knew that it was his and-

-

He needs this. The thought kept running through Richter’s mind.

It was his song. So much his song. Flowed as a river flowed. The piano chirped along with his voice like song birds greeting a morning dew. Lovers, no, not lovers, opposed each other on river banks. Leo cried out, tears in his eyes falling, but the flowers never grew in the wet sands. His voice, even with the eroding power of the river rounding out the sharp tones of the piano, his not-lover was veiled beyond sight. The walls locked them in their places, forever separated but always on the far horizon. And though it was only the two of them, Leo and his not-lover, his voice never made it across.

The song ended. Spaced claps from the three instructors interrupted the echoing silence after the last note drifted off to nothing. Lionel seemed frozen on his stage. His tears were gone, and Richter felt a light trickle fall from his face. For all his pain, for all his weakness, that is the one thing he never let happen. No tears. No pity. This was how the world was for him, and yet, Lionel could release him from everything.

“What was-”

-

“that?” Amber and Richter said at once. Their trance was broken. Their minds scrambled with the remnants of the ending song that made them connect. Neither clapped, but they found each other’s eyes. They knew each other now without prejudice In his, she saw what stomped half her heart into dust: a love she never had. Not just love, but a feeling, yearning so foreign and so out of the ordinary that he was shivering as if it was pain. It was a weakness. Why does he get to be weak? Her mother prepared her for everything. Everything. There is no place in the world for a weak and vulnerable black woman. She was strong, she could take what she wanted, no matter what it was. Her mother had said so. He should have been hers too, but it was as clear Lionel’s voice: that song was Not About Her.

Her final weakness fluttered out of her chest and was replaced with a simmering fury. A wrongdoing. Her mother was right. There was no room for weakness for a young black woman. There was nothing wrong here. Nothing wrong at all. This is what I’m meant to be a little voice in her head said, foreign and taking over. Why would you want to be weak when you are so strong? There’s nothing wrong here. Nothing-

-

wrong. It terrified Richter. His relief, his sense of painlessness from the song abated as he could see a cold fury flash in her eyes. 

-

Whether they knew this momentary lucid connection predicted their ends was impossible to tell. Alas, Leo stepped forward, receiving first the congratulations and advice of his instructors. Their words struck him, but they weren’t his reason for being there. In a moment of sheer awe to Richter and Amber, Leo hugged his accompanist. He was safe. Safe from himself, at least for a few more minutes. His feelings, his music, ceased his malevolent suffering. It was his only temporary relief.

He returned to the seats to face the two. The one who wished for him stood blank and expressionless. The one who insisted on intruding into his life was in tears. They were the two he worried most over. They were vulnerable, but now the time was nigh for them to know the undetectable danger of his presence.

         “Hey there,” he said, trying to hide the joy in his voice

         Richter was first. “Leo, I…I didn’t know that…” His usual fast wit was gone, his body was slouched, and he hugged himself as if his icy coolness had melted away and he needed warmth. This strange hesitation on his part let Amber interrupt.

         “Leo! Who was that about?” The attraction Leo knew existed before was gone. It was replaced, and Leo could see a distance between them that was nothing he tried to force.

         His phone vibrated. He dug it out of his pocket.

         “Mom?” His voice cracked.

         “Lionel. I’ll keep this short. The police contacted me. Your father was released on good behavior. I don’t know his intentions, but you’re an adult now. I can’t protect you.”