Pieces of Your Heart

Concerto

Later that week, Ian woke to an early morning knock on his door. He struggled with his hangover for a few moments before getting up to answer it, and found Sam standing in his doorway.

"Whoah, you look like shit," she blurted out in her frank and endearing way.

"Thanks," he grumbled, forcing a half-smile. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, funny you should ask. Can I come in?"

He sighed deeply. "Sam, I don't mean to be a dick, but it's not a good time."

She rolled her eyes. "It never is with you. Don't worry, this will only take a second."

He stepped aside and let her in, watching her as she sat on the leather sofa and crossed her legs, smiling at him. He sat in the armchair across from her, involuntarily touching his head with his fingertips.

"You ok there buddy?"

"I've been better."

"Hangover?"

"Something like that."

"Well, I'll get right to it then. Here you go," she beamed as she handed him a small white envelope.

"What is this?" he asked, genuinely curious.

She shrugged. "Open it."

He frowned a little as he slid his fingernail under the lip of the envelope. Inside was what appeared to be a concert ticket. San Francisco Symphony Orchestra, Dvorak 'Cello Concerto in B Minor. He looked up at Sam, speechless.

"There was a big article about this super talented 'cellist a few weeks ago in some magazine. I read it when I was at the dentist office. Anyway, the article talked about how she was going to be playing this piece of music or whatever, so I did some research and I found out how to buy a ticket. I mean, I just sort of put it all together and I thought --- maybe this is your chance to go get your girl...or not. But either way, maybe you'll get some closure or something."

Ian looked up at Sam tenderly, for such a long moment that she felt herself start to blush before she looked away.

"Look, I'm not trying to be pushy. I know none of this is my business, but that night --- that night you and I had dinner and you told me that story about your first date with her --- I just can't stop thinking about it. So you can go or not go, whatever you want to do. It's up to you. I just really wanted to do this for you."

"Sam, thank you. This is so --- thank you."

"Oh thank God," she breathed. "I thought you were going to be mad at me for meddling or prying or whatever. I just couldn't resist. I mean, the way you talked about her, I don't think I'll ever forget that."

Ian raised his eyebrows slightly. "Why is that?"

Sam sighed deeply. "Because it gives me hope that one day I'll meet someone who feels that way about me."

As Elodie paced back stage, Ian took his seat in the audience. He breathed in deeply as he let his back sink into the seat and his eyes adjust to the dim lighting in the concert hall. As the house lights went out, and Elodie stood in the wings, attempting to steady her breath, Ian felt his own breath catch in his throat; the butterflies in both their stomachs flapped their wings furiously, threatening to carry both of them far away.

The stage lights went on and Elodie walked across the stage, taking her seat in front of the orchestra. As they tuned their instruments, Ian gazed out at her, her dark hair and eyes contrasting sharply with the white, gauzy gown she wore. She looked soft and ethereal under the flood of the stage lights.