Night music

A clean, romantic short story. No spice, no cussing.

This is the stand alone story scheduled for Thursday. I did share an unplanned short story two days ago with the promise of a part 2, but let’s leave that one for next week. Today’s story is unconnected to it. Initially Night music was written for a Jane Austen contest for short stories with the theme “The art of listening”. This is what I kept in mind while I wrote - Jane Austen's work and the given theme. Though the story is set in current times, I hope it doesn’t feel like J.Austen fan fiction. Maybe that’s the reason the story didn’t make it to top 10. Re-reading it now, I see its flaws. But I’ll let you be the judges.

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She sat on the windowsill with her eyes closed. The gentle fingertips of the rain tapped on the windowpane. Another hot, sleepless summer night in the city. Anne opened the window; humid air caressed her face along with cool raindrops. She listened to the traffic noises long into the night. Anne had spent many sleepless nights since she moved to the city. The first year living on her own turned out to be the loneliest of her life. Her new co-workers barely noticed her. She had given up on dating strangers from the labyrinths of the Web. None of them would ever hear her. Everybody in this big city marvelled over their own voices, their own stories, the louder, the better. The timid voices and humble stories like Anne’s disappeared in the cruel traffic noises, the vain rambling of the men she dated and the obnoxious gossiping of her co-workers.

Anne stood by the open window. She only wished to hear the rain, like she could in the small village she grew up in. Anne missed the voices of birds waking her every morning, and the soothing sound of her father rehearsing on the piano late at night for his next concert. Anne moved to the city after his death a year ago.

Her world had become a jumbled mess of loud voices and noises she didn’t want to hear anymore. Anne opened the window wider. One leap separated her from the cradling embrace of eternal silence. A familiar sound caught her attention. Among the traffic noises, a gentle melody weaved into the night. Somebody was playing the piano. Anne stood listening carefully, searching the source of the sound. The music obviously came from the warm-lit window in the opposite apartment complex. The window stood ajar. In her many sleepless hours, Anne had got to know all the windows shedding light into the night. That one always stood dark and silent. Somebody had moved in.

Anne listened as long as the music would play. When it went silent, a dark silhouette parted the curtain. Anne saw - it was a young man her age. Was he the one playing? He must’ve been. He looked down at the traffic below. Anne stared at him until their eyes met. A couple of seconds, and she shied away, backed from the window, and turned the light off. Anne shook her head in the dark. What must he think of her? A timid soul afraid of its own shadow! As if she couldn’t look a handsome man in the eye! Anne sighed and returned to the window to close it. The man’s window stood dark and silent like a grave.

Voices and noises, voices and noises, Anne’s day went its usual course. She couldn’t wait for her shift at the restaurant kitchen to end. Nobody cared much for the lowest kitchen staff, all they did was shout. The waiters and waitresses bellowed the orders across the large industrial kitchen space. The cooks yelled back. It was just a temporary job, she’d find something better soon, Anne consoled herself. But a whole year had passed, no luck. If not for her father’s sudden death, she would’ve had better chances, but now…

Anne stood by the window listening, trying to hear the rain. Play, please, play tonight… her heart begged the dark window of the opposite building.

Suddenly the light in the window switched on. Did he hear her silent prayer? Anne listened by the open window. The healing sounds of the piano played by somebody nearby were more comforting than any record she could’ve listened to on her headphones. Anne didn’t know how long she listened. The man appeared in the window. She resisted the urge to run away. He looked at her for some minutes and gave a tiny smile. Anne smiled back. Only then did she back away and turn off the light. Her heart raced for some reason.

The next day passed heavily intoxicated by cursing and yelling of her co-workers. Anne could not focus. She dropped dishes on the floor, she cut her own fingers accidentally, whilst chopping vegetables. The cooks threatened to fire her.

She needed a good night’s sleep. Yet again insomnia tortured her deep into the night.

The melody from his window poured into her heart like a healing balm. Though barely hearable through the traffic, it was the lifeline keeping Anne alive in the darkest nights of her life. Every night he played, every time he smiled at her. Last night he gave her a tiny wave. Anne waved back. Her heart did a joyous somersault.

At daytime she could barely keep her eyes open. She dropped a large tray of premium quality meat to the floor. The cooks had enough, they yelled the life out of her, they called Anne names she had heard only on the street. She was fired on the spot.

Anne cried her heart out in the darkness. Her window stood ajar once again. His melody couldn’t sooth her tonight, the filthy words rang in her ears again and again. The words of anger scorned her soul with a heavy-handed cruelty. Anne needed to hear some kind words before she would leave her pathetic existence behind.

Anne ran down the stairs, out into the street, into the traffic, cars beeping, drivers cursing at the mad girl running among the speeding vehicles. She ran into the opposite building. Up the stairs. She listened for a couple of seconds. There it was; the lonely melody played by the piano guided her steps up and up. Soaked wet, breathless, barefoot, wearing a nightdress and nothing more, Anne knocked on his door.  A couple of hesitant seconds she thought this might be the wrong door. Or the wrong hour. Or this whole outburst of hers was outrageous, infantile, and simply insane. To knock on a stranger’s door in the middle of the night…

The door opened. He stood there; his face lit up with a bewildered smile.

“I thought you were not listening tonight,” he said, “forgive me! Are you alright?”

His eyes glided down her sheer, wet nightdress. He blushed.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. You play so beautifully,” she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her wet cheeks, “I lost my job. I can’t sleep. I can never fall asleep because I’m afraid I wouldn’t wake up. I’m scared I won’t have the strength to go on.”

She sobbed uncontrollably and leaned onto the man. He enveloped her in his embrace timidly.

“Who is it?” A woman’s voice asked from behind him. Anne’s heart sank.

“A friend,” he said, “my music-loving friend from the opposite building. I told you about her, remember?”

“Oh, the one you play to every night, keeping all the neighbours awake?” The cheerful woman’s voice came nearer.

“Would you like to have some tea?” the man asked, looking at the rain dripping from Anne’s hair.

“Oh no, I… I’m so sorry. I don’t want to bother you.”

“We were not sleeping, as you see. It’s hard to get used to city noises.”

The man led Anne into the apartment, where a beautiful young woman stood smiling.

“My name is Jeremy, and this is Vivienne.”

“Anne,” she introduced herself. Anne shook hands with Jeremy, but when she extended her hand to Vivienne, the latter stood smiling awkwardly without noticing it.

“Forgive me, Anne, my sister Vivienne is blind,” Jeremy said and beckoned his sister to shake Anne’s hand.

“That’s why I’m forced to live with this music-obsessed brother of mine,” Vivienne laughed, “I’m very happy to meet you, Anne. We have no friends here yet; would you like to visit us again?”

Jeremy gave a quick laugh.

“Don’t frighten her, Viv! I hope my music didn’t interrupt your sleep? I’m studying to become a composer,” he said shyly.

“Not at all. I mean, I enjoyed listening to it every night,” Anne’s cheeks coloured up. Both stood staring into each other’s eyes, silence between them was a strangely beautiful melody.

“The tea, Jerry?!” Viv asked, “poor thing must be soaked-wet!”

“Of course! The tea.”

Both siblings wrapped Anne in a giant, fluffy towel and kind, soft-spoken words. They understood her need for gentle sounds; they had moved to this noisy city from a small country town.

“You can’t even hear the birds here!” Viv complained, whilst the three of them sipped tea in the living room, “Jerry’s music is the only consolation in this terrible place. I must confess - I like it when he plays at night, even though it keeps me awake.”

“I like it too. Very much,” Anne’s gaze found Jeremy’s eyes. He smiled, slightly blushing in the warm lamp light.

“I’m glad you came, Anne. I would never find the courage to… to…” he stuttered staring into his teacup.

“Would you play something, Jerry? Play your most romantic melody for Anne!” Viv said with her blind eyes squinting in a cheeky smile.

“Oh, Viv,” he shook his head laughing nervously.

“Please, play for me,” Anne asked, “I may not know what tomorrow brings, but listening to you playing gives me comfort.”

Jeremy smiled and nodded. He went to the piano and played a quiet tune. Anne sat on the sofa, enveloped by the warmth of their company, and finally she fell into a peaceful dream, listening to the gentle night music.