-1
Third Movement He hadn't asked to hear her
play again since that night she tied her A string back together.
She hadn't played much since tying her A string back together because she wasn't sure the string would hold together. But that wasn't the entire reason. Another part of it was because she just didn't have the heart to sit down and play.
More time passed. More healing occurred. The helmsman raised his eyebrows slightly when she had finally asked him to find her a new string. She requested a specific brand, but any string would do.
The boomer smiled as he handed it to her a few weeks later.
The Southerner was back at her door that night. He sat on the floor and watched, silently, as she removed the damaged string and replaced it.
"Too bad we can't do that," he muttered under his breath, echoing the sentiment he uttered when she first repaired the string.
"Now I spend weeks breaking it in," she commented as she tuned the string.
He spent weeks breaking it in with her. He often brought a PADD to read when she played. He smiled when he found a chair for himself in the room one day.
"Do you want to learn?" she asked on day. He looked up at her, his blue eyes wide open for a moment before answering.
"Yeah," he said as he got up and went over to her. She stood and he took her place. He waited as she positioned the instrument between his legs and adjusted the endpin so it rested against his chest in the right spot. She taught him to hold the bow and where his fingers went on the strings. He learned the names of the strings and by the end of the night he could play a squeaky rendition of "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star."
He stood, very proud of himself, and she took the cello back, re-adjusting everything for herself before she sat down and play variation Z32 of the childhood tune. He laughed at the complicated song, full of slurs and pizzicatos.
He had a long way to go.