AMGWPM 14💸

Episode 14. Don’t Know Why (4)

Ayeon thought.

‘My favorite song…’

That thought made her heart ache. For some reason, it felt like the scent of grass brushed the tip of her nose. Until now, Ayeon had played the piano without emotion, simply as she was told. So, there was nothing she could call her ‘favorite song.’ Therefore, Heeseong’s question came as quite a shock to her. It was a thought she had never once considered, so Ayeon became lost in thought. The child knew the meaning of ‘to like.’

‘A song I like… I don’t have one…’

To be precise, it was merely a means to play the piano. Songs to play when bored, to practice, to study. Ayeon had never placed much significance on the pieces she had played so far. However, with Heeseong’s single remark, the child closed her eyes tightly to search her memory.

‘Ah…’

The moment Ayeon closed her eyes to recall her memory, she saw something. Familiar scenery and forgotten faces. In that scene, there was a piano. And a man playing the piano. A familiar back, that melody he always played for her. Ayeon remembered.

‘Daddy went on a long trip…. So, Ayeon-ah. You can wait for Daddy, right?’

Her mother that day was wearing a black han-bok. And the child saw her father, smiling brightly, surrounded by flowers. That father from her memory was playing the piano. However, between Ayeon and him was an opaque window, making it impossible to easily approach.
Single multi
Suddenly, Ayeon’s eyes flew wide open. In her memory, her father began to play. It was an awkward yet somehow familiar melody. Even with her eyes open, the sound continued to ring in her ears. Her fingertips tingled for some reason. Though Ayeon didn’t know what was happening, one thing was certain.

Other-♬

The child’s small hands were already playing the piano.

‘How did I do that?’

Ayeon struggled to recall the memory of her father. She tried hard to follow that difficult performance. She was a little afraid she might lose it if she didn’t concentrate.

‘Sol? Ah, Fa!’

The child had talent. She possessed the so-called absolute pitch. Yet, she still got confused on rare occasions. Sometimes, hearing ‘Do,’ she would answer ‘Ti.’ Ayeon was afraid of that trivial mistake. She didn’t know why she tried so hard. Or rather, she had forgotten.

‘Don’t know about that.’

Ayeon decided not to worry about trivial things. She focused on playing the melody she heard in her memory now.

Tan- tadadan-♪

As she concentrated on the notes for a moment, Ayeon realized.

‘Wow… Amazing!’

The left hand playing the accompaniment and the right hand playing the melody. The piece her father played in her memory was something Ayeon couldn’t play. His hands were too big, making it difficult for her small hands to even mimic. It was impossible to play the rapidly changing notes with small hands. She had to press La# while simultaneously pressing the La# an octave higher.

‘The accompaniment is hard. Then, with both hands!’

Ayeon took a deep breath. And she hurriedly moved her left hand, unsure where to go. She gave up on the accompaniment. Instead, she decided to play the melody with both her left and right hands. The melody traversed octaves. Ayeon’s two hands followed the melody of the piece. It was clearly a different performance from before. Ayeon realized anew.

‘Okay, left hand is Re? Re and Fa, La…. Next is La#!’

With slowly moving fingers and tightly closed eyes, the child played. She listened intently, capturing in her ears the melody played by her dust-covered father in her memory. She captured those faint, connected notes with her small hands. Notes flowed by like the wind. As if she were in a forest, the spaces between her toes tingled. Her father’s accompaniment was solid, like a large tree. The melody Ayeon played with both hands was a single blade of grass. However, that exceedingly slender blade of grass moved hurriedly, as if it might scatter at any moment.

The more she listened, the more familiar the melody became, and the child thought.

‘I’ve heard this somewhere…’

She remembered it was the song her father played for her every night. When her consciousness was hazy with sleep. Ayeon’s father would lay Ayeon on the sofa and play the digital piano, the keyboard. He would connect headphones to the keyboard and put them on Ayeon’s head. Before that, he would carefully check if the volume wasn’t too loud. When he started playing, a melody far from a lullaby would flow. It was a melody that was somehow exciting. Yet, if she closed her eyes and quietly savored the notes, Ayeon would unknowingly feel as if she were in a meadow. Little weeds tickled her ankles, and the wind, carrying a fragrant scent, ruffled her hair. That pleasant feeling of being in a forest. It was awkward at first, but as she recalled the memory, the more she played, the more familiar it became.

‘Do and Mi… together!’

Ayeon’s playing gradually began to follow the melody her father played in her memory. At first, it was overwhelming just to follow the notes without time to think, but not anymore. It still had the appearance of following, but there was a little room now. She could think about which keys to press, how to stretch the tempo. However, the child vowed not to think about the techniques she was capable of. She thought this wasn’t her own performance. The opaque window, thick with dust, separating her father in her memory and herself, seemed like it wouldn’t be easy to clean. So, she didn’t touch it. It felt like if she moved now, these fragrant notes would break. But, she could hear the sound. She tried to capture that muffled, dust-like sound with her bright ears. Left hand La, right hand Fa. Left hand La#, right hand Sol. The melody that would have been played by the right hand of a large hand was being played with both hands by a 5-year-old little girl. She diligently played the keys one by one with her index fingers.

‘Ah, rest here!’

Whenever a moment of rest arose, the child thought of the next note. Following an awkward, yet not awkward, strange song, Ayeon moved along. As if running through a forest, savoring the refreshing scent of dew, her fingers danced. The note her father played and the note Ayeon played rang out simultaneously. Father’s note: La. Ayeon’s note: Sol#. The dissonance created by the two. A mere semitone difference proved the two were different. But strangely, it wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it felt good. That tiny difference could be slowly overcome. However, the child intuited.

‘It’s ending…!’

The final note of the music was approaching. Ayeon grew frantic. As if the melody wouldn’t last forever, as if an end was coming. She fell into the illusion that this moment would be eternal. She forgot time was passing as she focused on playing. So, she closed her eyes even tighter. She wanted to open the dust-covered window. She wanted to reach out, but she couldn’t because she had to play the piano.

Ayeon’s playing had unknowingly become serious. A performance not to follow, but to be together, continued. The child’s playing was gradually harmonizing with her father’s fading performance. It didn’t deviate, it didn’t deflect, it just… resembled. She controlled the force pressing the keys, felt the length connecting the notes. But she felt a very slight urgency.

‘It ended… But it was good!’

Ayeon felt that playing the piano was different from usual. A performance not done for someone else, but done because she herself wanted to. That was truly the most pleasant performance ever. It wasn’t hard. Nor was it tedious. It wasn’t difficult like math or English. It was strenuous at first, but not now. Ayeon closed her eyes once more. She felt the coolness of the shade made by a large tree. She felt the green leaves fallen from the tree and the white sunlight. This was the melody created by the child’s father. The melody adorned the tree created by the accompaniment. Her incredibly amazing father, so different from herself. In contrast, she was just an unremarkable blade of grass. The melody she barely played with both hands was a blade of grass with shaky roots. A small blade of grass whose name she didn’t even know, she wished it would reach her father.

‘I want to see his face, even just his face…!’

A scent so familiar it was rather nostalgic brushed her nose. Only then did Ayeon realize. That the fragrant scent of the forest trees was all her father’s scent. The face of her kind father, who always gave her a vibrant energy, wouldn’t come to mind. If she tried hard to recall, his melody rather blocked it. Strong sunlight created shade, hiding his face. The music was ending.

‘Ah…’

As the music neared its end, the dust on the window in her memory gradually disappeared. The child reached out her left hand. To open the window. She placed her tiny hand on the rusted, faded doorknob of the window. And then.

The music ended.
The dust-covered window, the large tree, leaves, sunlight, and meadow created by her father’s accompaniment all disappeared.
The not-eternal music ended.
Still, she wanted to keep playing.
If she played the piano once more like this, it felt like the fragrant scent of grass would fill her nostrils again.
But the child knew.
It was a scent she could never smell again.
But, a sound remained.

“Ayeon-ah, you’re doing well.”

That voice, spoken not by the piano or her hands, but by a mouth, seemed like it would remain forever.
For always, continuously.
Ayeon opened her closed eyes.
For some reason, her vision was blurry.
The tip of her nose and her throat stung.
Her hands wouldn’t easily leave the keys.
A momentary silence somehow tapped at her heart.
Clap, clap.
And the sound of applause was heard.
At the applause of an audience who had sincerely listened to her music, Ayeon bowed her head deeply.
The child’s fingertips were still trembling on the keys, perhaps out of reluctance.
Afraid the music from her memory, like her father’s scent, might disappear.
Ayeon quietly took a breath.

Han-seol Kindergarten, well past 5 o’clock, was in disarray. It was full of children preparing to go home and parents who had come to pick them up. I was in a corner of Moran Class with Ayeon. The two of us were quietly watching the other children.

‘Ayeon really is good at playing the piano.’

Ayeon was a genius. If she had been born in my past era, she would have left her name in history. At first, it was crude. It was music with only a melody, no accompaniment. From my perspective, it looked like she was mimicking a song she had heard somewhere. It felt like she was forcing herself to follow a piece that required a certain level of maturity to play. However, as the performance progressed, the piece gradually became more natural. Even without accompaniment, the piece felt perfect as if it had one.

‘It felt like being in a forest or something. I want to hear it again.’

In the end, Ayeon’s performance was excellent. If you listened quietly with your eyes closed, it felt like being in a forest somewhere. As if cool air was filling your lungs completely.

‘Feels like something is pressing down on me.’

I didn’t know if that was emotion. But, a sense of longing was felt. I received a feeling as if reaching out, wanting to see someone. I thought that someone was probably a person Ayeon loved. So, I cautiously asked Ayeon.

“Ayeon-ah, what’s the title of the song you played this morning?”

“Don’t know. Daddy played it for me.”

“I see. But you know. While listening to the song you played, I felt… sad.”

This wasn’t a lie. The piece Ayeon played had a ‘jazzy’ feel. The accompaniment could make you move your shoulders, but the emotion felt from the piece was not like that at all. It seemed to speak of sadness. The melody the child struggled to play with both hands made that even clearer.

“Huh?”

“Do you miss someone a lot? Your playing seemed to say that.”

At my words, Ayeon fidgeted with her hands. Her cheeks reddened as if she had been caught at something embarrassing. Her small head shook left and right, and her long straight hair brushed against my hand.

“I miss Daddy…”

Ayeon whispered softly. The exceedingly faint voice scattered too quickly, hardly reaching my ears. So, I was about to open my mouth to hear it again, but Teacher Yu-ra’s gentle voice quietly slipped between us.

“Heeseong, your mother is here to pick you up.”

She was holding my bag with the flower-shaped name tag. Feeling the regret of having to part, I said to Ayeon.

“Ayeon-ah, see you tomorrow. Be sure to tell me the song title.”

“Mm-hmm, see you tomorrow.”

The child said with a slight smile. While playing the piano, Ayeon had been desperate, searching for something. The child’s performance spoke of something while holding sadness. But now, she was just a typical 5-year-old girl. Just a little more tired.

“Let’s play together tomorrow. Bye.”

“Hehe, okay. Bye!”

As I left Moran Class, other children also said goodbye. I waved my hand big to everyone, then left Moran Class. Outside the window, it was already getting dark.

“Ayeon-ah, have a good time at the academy again today!”

“Yes, Auntie.”

Ayeon entered the academy, leaving the waving auntie behind. For a child attending difficult lessons, there was no desire to study in the first place.

“Now, everyone. Let’s continue from last class. Everyone, open your books.”

Ayeon hated opening books. The teacher talking about things she didn’t know. In an academy where no one spoke to her, it seemed there was no place for the child.

‘I miss Daddy…’

She just wanted to play the melody of the song she had played this morning once more. The song where the scent of trees brushed her nose. She wished her fingertips would touch keys, not a pencil. Ayeon wanted to sit before a free piano, not this prison-like academy. Today more than ever, the child thought she didn’t want to study at the academy. Unlike the academy where time seemed not to pass, people outside were busily moving about. Lee Ye-eun, running from afar, was also like that. The gazes of the woman looking up at the academy and the two people looking out the window momentarily crossed. They were both wishing for the academy to end quickly.