THE WEDDING PIANIST
She glanced to the message preview on her phone.
Another wedding.
Another request to serve as "the wedding pianist".
Her gaze moved back to the computer screen in front of her, her mind started to dance and wander around.
At times, it could look like as if she is a pro already.
She had lost count how many times she had accompanied smiling, young brides walked down the altar, each of them in white.
She looked up and stared at the ceiling.
Always the accompanist, never the accompanied.
Always the bride's pianist, never the bride herself.
Always tearing up listening the sacred vow, never said one herself.
She sighed, and stared blankly to the unseen distance.
"You've given up, don't you?"
Her mind starts its inner dialogue.
"Don't start hoping for anybody, ever again."
"Showing my presence? Yeah, I've tried."
"Speaking to a guy friend? Once or twice every month, perhaps. But I did it, while reminding myself not to hope for anything anymore."
Hopes came crashing down.
A heart, pierced repeatedly by its own owner.
And thus, a rule written and embedded deep.
Socialize as best as you can, but hope no more.
Her fingers clicks on a Spotify Playlist in front of her.
One more new, unfamiliar song chosen for the bride's entrance.
Repeated over and over, over and over again.
And thus, a wedding pianist, yet never the bride.
Over and over again.
***
