"Classical, native Iranian song," one of the members of the instrumental crew stated, and the sheet music was placed on my piano. I had learned a lot about music back at home during my high school, or should I call it middle school, before I pursued other educational adventures. So, I started practicing as we waited for the arrival of the distinguished guests of this nation. I hoped none of them would recognize me except for one. I needed, or rather, I hoped that Amir, or I guess I should refer to him as Prince Amir, was coming to this party or event. I heard it was a party, although I wasn't quite sure about the details. There had never been a party here since I started, or rather, since Ezron and I became members of this fraternity.
"Perfection, it needs to be perfect," one of our leaders stated, the chief of staff, the head of all of us. We all bowed our heads in respect to what he had said. It needed to be perfect, and he didn't have to worry about that, we sure knew how to introduce perfection in everything, especially when it cames to musicals, and as for me, classical music was my favorite.
Guests were arriving from all over, as I observed the various dress codes. Most of them adhered to the Islamic dress code, except for a few who wore attire more typical of India and other places, in this solemn world. I had not caught a glimpse of royals from the kingdom, I presume they were not invited in any way.
"Start the instruments, waiters, get to work... head cooks, ready... let's go," the head chef said, sounding tense. He had never rushed us in our work before, but this time, he wanted everything to be perfect, and I could understand why. The violins played, the guitars chimed in, and my fingers did what they did best: press the keys, creating rhythms. It was a beautiful thing,, that which I loved most. In the past I used to call it a beautiful mistake.. because it was a mistake, that which I never wanted, only to realize, it was or rather it is one of the best beauties or rather skills any individual could ever have. My head was constantly swaying to the music as I played the chords, feeling it envelop me, just as I embraced it.
Time went by, my hands were already stiffening from almost five hours of hitting the keys without stopping. The guests had already arrived, served, and were now interacting. Our musicals were now soft and easy, as if letting go the spirits of entertainment into a spirit of communication and interaction when we were asked to go and grab ourselves something to eat. Ezron always sought me out on that, when others went to look for feeds in the Kitchen, he would always have placed mine at the larger table and once he saw them leave, he would bring it right to me. He had once been scolded. The head chef had scolded him for this act once, but since I was quite familiar with the chef, he didn't report it to the chief of staff. So, we continued doing it whenever there were many guests, as the risk of not getting food was higher than having it.
"Hey, the Imam, no, the prince, I saw him. He has these big white gowns that cover their heads, I'm not quite sure of their names," Ezron stated, handing me the food.
"Oh, where is he? Does he happen to be alone?" I questioned.
"No... I..." As he tried to explain, the head chief of staff chimed in, "Hey, you... Ezron, leave it. Time for chats is after this. Go get wine for the visitors. Come on, no room for errors, remember?" With that, Ezron nodded and left, and the head chief returned to his supervisory duties. Today, no one was even allowed to chat with anyone, so I just decided to indulge myself in the food. It was delicious. I had never been a cook or a chef, and the aesthetics of food had never really entered my thoughts. But I was still young, still figuring out what life had in store for me, still trying to find my purpose. My thoughts spoke of figuring out, as if I ever had a chance, an opportunity, or some space to figure things out. I had been left out there to face the world, and there was never even a tiny glimmer of hope or statements like "figuring out." Maybe that's what happens when you become independent, away from the care of your parents. You realize that life is more about surviving. You think about how to make it to the next day, just hoping that one day, you'll find a purpose to live for and derive sustenance from.
"Deep in thought..." A voice, an angelic woman's voice, snapped me out of my contemplation about survival and my past.
"Hey," I said, clearing my throat and taking a sip of water to wash down the food in my mouth and quench my thirst. The lady was one of the guests and wore Kaftan material, suggesting she belonged to a royal family, though I wasn't sure from which nation.
"You seem lost in thought," she observed. She knew English quite well, a sign of her educated background.
"I don't know... you startled me," I replied.
"You're not from around here, I presume. British, I would say," she added, making me chuckle a bit. Was I flirting?
"Well, if you say so," I replied, trying to give her a vague response.
"You are quite a pianist." She added changing the topic, which made me chuckle a bit,
"Thank you, I appreciate you noticing." I stated trying to be as professional as possible.
"Quite shy, are you?" She added. That, no one had ever said that to me direct to myself, I was not shy… really I just preferred first contemplating and thinking things out especially when faced with chirms of women.
"Well,… I lack words." I stated, really trying to figure out the best words to tell her, but none. She was ofcourse intimidating, and she carried this feminine aura that would lead any man following onto her commands.
"What's your name?" She asked, looking at me steadily,… but with some eyes, or was I seeing things.. I wasn't even sure.
"Lock," I said, as fast, feeling her stare literally crumbling my walls down the drill. God, her undeniable beauty was hardly able to be missed. Her dressing style and her curvy figure exuded femininity, perfection indeed, that's what a real English man would say, the treasures of femininity.
"Lock... wow," she continued, but before she could say more, a tall, radish Arabian-styled young man approached. His beard framed his chin perfectly.
"Hey, sister, don't intimidate our nice-looking pianist," he said. The moment our eyes met, mine and this man's,… closer now, it felt as though time, space, life, and everything else stood still, at least for me. It was Amir, but it seemed he hadn't recognized me. What do I say? What do I do? These thoughts raced through my mind.
"Lock, meet Prince Amir, my overprotective brother," she introduced us.
"Hello, sir," I said, making him look at me as if lost in deep thought. His intense stare, as if in thought, figuring out maybe he would chime in with the words I was used to being asked everywhere I went 'not from around' or 'new here?' I was already used to these words.
"You quite remind me of someone," he said, and his sister chimed in, "Everyone with cute-brown hair and blue eyes reminds you of someone," which made them both chuckle.
"I actually had a friend, a duke, a duke's son... you quite look familiar," he added.
"He aways talks about that Duke's son. A bastard…" her sister said when Amir looked at her quite intensely. "Not a bastard,… he was more of a brother, you look familiar though… I even at first sight when I entered thought you were him, he was quite a pianist and a great story teller,…" He seemed to chuckle to that, as I sat back, had I changed that much? Or was my dressing different. How was I used to dressing so that this man can literally see me as his long lost brother. He seemed to ha ve a certain talk with her sister, as I rethought all of this, I was already questioning everything about me, maybe I should shave off my hairs so that he comes to recognize me, maybe I should return myself to whoever I was in the past, but the question was,.. why did I want him to recognize me that bad? What was it did I really want from him? I wanted to go home, I wanted to be accepted, I wanted a life, I wanted a glimpse of something that which others were able to enjoy under the roofs and protection of their valuable families. I wanted that too, I wanted someone who would enforce this, maybe that's why I needed him this much, maybe that's why my thoughts drew no one but he, maybe…, just maybe.
As I found myself lost out of my thoughts, I decided to ask, "What happened to your friend, the Duke?" Seeing him ready to answer, the chief of staff appeared at the end where we sat.
"Hello, Prince and Princess. Apologies for any inconvenience. Please interact,,, feel free... music... music..." he said, stating the word music along, after Amir and his sister left. I had the chance to tell Amir that it was me, but I had forgotten how awkward I became when someone asked about my past, how much I struggled to explain who I was, and how long it took me to introduce myself to a long-lost friend. Maybe I should see him when he's alone.