The Silent Composer

Lorna moved with the days like a coconut on the ocean. She had become so immersed in her daily routine as to forget the weight she bore in her step. She was a teacher at St. Agatha School for Arts where she had started her job teaching music about a year before. She whiled away her days in silence. In school, she went through the motions, and though she taught well, all she looked forward to was the end of class.

Every afternoon, when classes ended, she went to the hospital, where she sat by her father’s bed and played her cello till her tears came out. When visitation hours neared their end, she would lean closer to his ears and narrate all the turmoils of her heart in tearful whispers. She told him how she struggled to find an anchor now that he, her only parent, could not talk to her. She told him of how her relationship with Ethan, her boyfriend, was going through hard times as Ethan often complained she had grown cold and aloof. They no longer went for weekend dates as often as before. These days, she spent most weekends at home, composing music she would play for her father.

On this particular day, she sat by the bed in silence long after she had played her saddest tune yet, and listened to the beeping of the monitors as she sobbed. She then went on to tell him that Ethan had proposed to her the day before and she was unsure what to say. It was then that she heard her father’s voice for the first time in six months.

“Yes.” His voice was hoarse, but it was clear.

It was long after the ensuing commotion had died down, with her father seated and off the machines, and the nurses, satisfied and having left them alone, that the conversation continued.

“This is good news. I was so happy for you that I found the strength to muster my voice and speak,” he said.