Chapters (54)
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
Shizuka nodded.
Yes. The violin had given Katrina a voice with which to sing. And now, that newfound voice was pushing her, urging Katrina to speak.
Katrina ran down the hill, across the street, around the corner.
Why was she queer, and trans? Why couldn’t she have had a father who didn’t hate her? Why couldn’t she have a mother who was glad that she had been born?
Didn’t she want to kick down her father’s door? Didn’t she want to curse, to scream at Evan and Skylar and the ladies on the bus?
Katrina stood there, before big cars and small, people walking and riding bicycles, couples waiting in line for Taiwanese shaved ice. They were holding hands. They were laughing, belonging.
Katrina wanted to shout to every traffic light. Every traffic light. Every noodle house, every nail studio, every boba joint, and every gas station in between.
But if she had the chance to shout, what exactly would she say?
And if she were not queer or trans, what exactly would she be?
Katrina stood there, listening to the afternoon before her. She looked up at the hill she had descended, and beyond it to a vast and cloudless sky.
She could yell all she wanted. She could fight all she wanted. She could even play in public all she wanted. But none of that would be enough.
And even with all the justice and vengeance in the world, she would still pick up Aubergine and not know what, if anything, she contained.
When Katrina finally returned, Miss Satomi was still sitting by the piano. For all Katrina knew, her teacher hadn’t moved.
“M-Miss Satomi?”
“I’m glad you had the chance to get that out. May I see Aubergine?”
Miss Satomi held Katrina’s violin, appreciating its newfound balance.
“Katrina,” she said quietly, “do the strings give the violin its sound?”
“Miss Satomi?”
The question did not make sense. After all, the strings are what the bow plays upon, what the audience sees.
“It seems absurdly obvious, doesn’t it?” Miss Satomi conceded. “But think about it. Why are there Stradivarius violins, but no Stradivarius strings?
“Of course, string qualities matter. But no one pays millions, or even thousands, of dollars for a set of strings. Trust me—if it were necessary, we would. But strings are only the source of the vibrations. These vibrations are taken via the bridge through the sound post into the body of the instrument itself.
“And there, in the dark, the sound develops. There, in the empty spaces, a violin’s voice matures, gains complexity, power, depth…”
Shizuka pointed at Katrina’s heart.
“Everything the audience hears, what we strive to create … what we live to convey … it comes from there. In your hollows. In your nothingness.
“There is where your music gains its life.”