The Cellist

Scarlett is working on her last travel blog. When she submits to her editor at Globetrotters United, she will receive her stipend of $500. It will be her last payment. National lockdown restrictions will prevent any future traveling for the foreseeable future. She sighed and wondered what her children were up to. It was Monday, an asynchronous workday. She doubted they were working ahead of any of their assignments.

Deciding to take a break, Scarlett took a brush that she kept in a metal tin box by her workstation and ran it through her thick cascading curls. She didn’t look like her mother or father, although all were of Chinese descent. Her hair was a chocolate brown while her parents’ locks were a blue-black sheen.

The door burst open and a pile of clothes landed inside the laundry room where Scarlett worked. Her husband used the adjacent basement room as an office, while Scarlett took the washroom. It was a cold room, but private and she liked it.

Liliana followed the laundry pile just strewn on the floor with another basket of dirty clothes.

“Hey, are you doing your laundry now?” Scarlett asked, eyeing her daughter as she sauntered in heading directly to the washer and dryer at the end of the room.

“Yup, looks like it,” Liliana said rolling her eyes.

Scarlett put her brush down and noticed the old cello gathering dust in the corner leaning against the dryer machine. It was in a black cloth cello case. Carefully with slow movements, she began unzipping the cloth case and pulled out the old wooden cello.

“I remember when we used to play this together,” Scarlett reminisced to her teenage daughter.

Liliana had inherited her mother’s brown tresses as well as Scarlett’s lean, tall figure. Unlike, Scarlett, who moved with grace like a dancer, Liliana was going through the gangly awkward teenage phase. She scoffed at Scarlett’s reverie.

“So?” Liliana spat. Once very close, Liliana pulled and away and rebelled against anything remotely Scarlett once she began puberty. It was disheartening because as a young child, mother was God.

Scarlett swallowed back a growing sob. She was a very emotional, sensitive type and knew Liliana would see it as a weakness if she lashed out or broke down. Taking a quick, unnoticeable breath, Scarlett regained her composure and tried again.

“It’s been a while, and you’ve had such a long break from this. I was hoping we could resume our practice.” Scarlett gestured with the bow in hand.

Liliana shrugged her shoulders and moved her body, so she wasn’t looking at Scarlett and Scarlett couldn’t see her expression.

Scarlett continued.

“When I was little, I loved playing the cello. It really is a different type of string instrument.”

Liliana interrupted her mother abruptly.

“I told you, I don’t want to play the cello!”

A shadow fell across Scarlett’s face. She was easy to temper as she was to cry.

“Listen,” Scarlett resumed, assuming a parental tone. “There are so many opportunities that can occur. I am not saying, be a professional cellist. You don’t have to do this all your life. The main reason why I want you to continue is that you’ll get a deeper appreciation for music.”

Liliana squared her shoulders. She turned to her mother with a sour face.

“I told you, I have no interest,” Liliana said frustratedly. Why wouldn’t her mother let her be? She was not an all-around artistic person like her mother. Although she wasn’t against some of the arts, her mother was really into all of the arts, including music. Liliana was mostly interested in science and engineering.

“Interests change all the time at your age,” Scarlett argued.

“Besides, once you’re in high school, you’ll be taking all these fun orchestra trips. I went to Disney World and Dolly’s World when I was a kid…it’s been scientifically proven that music helps with math and science.”

Liliana acted like she didn’t hear Scarlett. She began loading her laundry into the washing machine.

“Don’t forget the clothes on the floor,” Scarlett reminded.

“I know!” Liliana responded in her usual short way.

“Don’t talk back,” Scarlett snapped back.

“I wasn’t,” Liliana replied. “I was just telling you I know. I’m getting those clothes as soon as I’m done here.”

“You used to do everything with me,” Scarlett complained.

It was true. When Liliana was a much younger child, she was her “Minnie me.” A miniature carbon copy of Scarlett and she mimicked her every move and hobby.

“It’s also a way for us to do something together,” Scarlett continued. “Why is it so horrible to spend time with your mother?”

Scarlett brought the cello and its bow back to her desk. After tightening the bow’s hairs ever so slightly she began playing the strings, adjusting the pegs and tuners until the strings were in tune. She remembered Vivaldi’s Winter from The Four Seasons.

It was just like yesterday. When Scarlett was in high school, she didn’t play the cello, she played the upright bass. It was her senior year and time for her senior solo at the spring concert. Her orchestra instructor had found a version of Winter for cello that they conscribed together into the bass cleft format. The fingerings were impossibly fast and the rhythms were so complicated. She practiced day in and day out until she figured out her exact bowings for each phrase and gained speed in her playing.

The night of the concert was amazing. Scarlett wore a short mini white dress with her black pantyhose. She had cut holes in them (it was not yet, the trend of the day) and wore her big black combat boots. All the other seniors in the class had performed their violin, cello, viola solos. It was her time. The orchestra adjusted their seating to make way for her as she took her place at the front. Usually, double bass players were at the back by the band, but it was her solo, she would be at the front.

Her teacher looked at her and Scarlett nodded her head. The orchestra teacher raised her arms and began conducting the strings. Vivaldi’s Winter was made for cello, but on the upright bass that night, it was made into an ethereal sound. The bass sang with low, loud notes above the entire orchestra. Scarlett had never held so much focus for any song she played in her life. It ended with an astounding crescendo that left the audience silent for a minute, then eruptions of thunderous applause.

Scarlett remembered the notes, the placement of the fingers on the strings, and the pattern of bowings. She played the bass version she knew by heart on the cello. The sound was so different than the sounds from her memory, but still just as chilling. When she was done, she could hear only silence, then the sounds of the washing machine. Liliana had pressed start.

Liliana stayed in the room, her body still. It was only a few seconds, but then she gathered her laundry basket and began heading out. Before she shut the door, she turned to her mother.

“Look, I don’t hate spending time with you,” Liliana said addressing her mother who was still sitting in a spell. “But I’m a different person and I don’t want to play the cello.”

“I actually played the upright bass in school,” Scarlett corrected. “This cello was given to me by my father. He played the cello.”

Liliana nodded, then to Scarlett’s surprise she suggested an alternative.

“The keyboard upstairs?” Liliana nodded upwardly to the second level of the house. “That was Grandma’s? No one ever plays. Do you know how?”

Scarlett looked up, happily illusioned.

“I took some beginner lessons,” she nodded eagerly.

“Well, I’d like to learn the piano,” Liliana told her mother.

Scarlett nodded quickly.

“Let’s do that,” she said. With that, she watched as her daughter closed the door firmly behind her. Scarlett smiled. She looked forward to learning the piano again with her daughter.