Virtuoso
May
You were a summer gift, one I'll always treasure. You were a dream I never wanted to wake up from. You opened my eyes to things I'll never really see. You're the best thing that will ever happen to me.
Crank, Ellen Hopkins
In time, more acceptance letters came, but not her vibrato. Ami was planning to move to Boston in the fall. They finished the showy and fiery Bolero** in their last lesson, a piece that, unexpectedly, she loved.
As he got up from the piano, he said, "Ami, it doesn't matter to me that you started late, or that you won't continue your lessons in medical school. But if it gives you pleasure, I hope you'll keep playing sometimes."
She smiled at him, so brightly that he felt some of his own burdens lighten. "It does. I will. It's one of the things I'm taking away with me this year that makes me happiest, this ability to make music and all these beautiful songs we've played together."
"Well, I'm sure the ability to save lives is much more impressive."
"I don't know if I'd agree with that, but you can't do it all the time, anyway."
They smiled at each other, and Ami put out her hand first. As he took it in his larger, warmer one, she felt all the desire she had felt for him during the past year course through her, stronger and sweeter than before, pulling her towards him.
"Thank you. I am so happy that I had the chance to meet you and learn from you this year, and I wish you all the best." I will never forget you.
"You were a wonderful student. Good luck with everything – not that you'll need it. But make sure to set a good example for your patients and get more sleep, Dr. Mizuno." When she laughed, he relinquished his hold on her reluctantly.
"Good bye, Zak."
"Good bye, Ami."
** Émile Pessard's Bolero – a lot of fun, full of fire and dash.