Sing For Me
Jinsuk weaved through the broken remains of the once beautiful orthodox church. Torn apart by endless war and bloodshed, laying a pile of rubble and ash. No longer an adorning church, but a forgotten memory buried beneath debris of a past life. Jinsuk trailed her fingers along the few remaining pews, almost reverently rubbing the dust between her fingers and frowning.
Roman lifted his gaze away from Jinsuk and upward toward the drooping, crumbling ceiling. A gaping hole shone through as if it were mid-yawn, a ray of light spewing out of its mouth, bathing everything else in shadow. He moved toward Jinsuk, who was standing beneath the chasm of light, illuminating her as if she was an angel. Head lowered as she whispered something beneath her breath.
He called after her, careful not to trip over debris as he attempted to reach her. āJinsuk. Stop. Go.ā She ignored him even though he knew she knew what he meant still standing head bowed. Theyād spent enough time together over the past few years that they understood some words from the others' native language.
Jinsuk might have been fond of the idea of getting crushed to death, but Roman was not. He huffed in frustration, grabbing her wrist. āJinsuk!ā
She looked up at him innocently with a look that said, āWhat?ā very, very sarcastically.
Roman aggressively pointed at the ceiling, making a slashing motion over his neck, then gestured toward the gaping doors.
Jinsuk slipped her hand out of his grasp and shrugged with a grin on her face. As if to say, āSo? We were told to scout the area. Weāre scouting.'
Roman blew out an exasperated sigh trailing behind her. This woman was going to get him killed.
She stopped just at the edge where the light cut into shadows. Brushing rubble back she pulled at something caught beneath. Roman moved to her side to help her. Together they pulled up some instrument case. The case was leather and black as tar, it was scratched and dented but otherwise intact. Roman wasnāt so sure the instrument inside would be.
Jinsuk gently laid the case on the rubble blowing off the dust. Her eyes lay on it with fascination, her fingers trailing over it finding their way to the clasps pausing then away again. She did this several more times, growing more and more hesitant.
She stood abruptly, brushing off her uniform, before taking two steps toward Roman. She leaned forward on the toes of her feet placing two fingers on his throat and calmly thrusting upward. His pulse raced at her touch.
Ā āSing?ā he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
She nodded eagerly. Sing was one of the words in his language she knew well. For some unbeknownst reason to Roman, she was fascinated by his voice. She was content listening to him talk for hours, even though she rarely knew what he was talking about. He guessed it was calming background noise for her; sheād fallen asleep to him talking more than once.
But what she really loved was when he sang. Whenever she wanted him to sing, she placed two fingers on his throat and pushed upward. Which was almost always. Heād tried asking her why many times, but he didnāt think his message went through clear any of the times because she never gave a clear answer. Or maybe she couldnāt think of a way to respond.
Roman took a deep breath, clamping his eyes shut, watching the music dance before his eyes. He sang a sad, melodic lullaby his grandmother used to sing him when he was young. Letting the emotions entangle him in a slow dance. The song poured into the church, echoing off the walls creating an ethereal effect. He made his voice lilt, adding flourishes to the song. He was glad Jinsuk couldnāt understand the childish words in the song.
Jinsuk's soft shifting steps moved away from him. Her uniform scraped against the ground. Something snapped open, and her boot scraped against the ground.
The final note of the song drifted from Romanās mouth. He shut his mouth, his eyes still closed. A bow against string screeched in complaint of being used after so long, but slowly the off-tune notes formed real ones. The violinās bittersweet melody surrounded him holding a fist over his heart.
Roman opened his eyes, watching Jinsuk sway with the music. His throat constricted. Her eyes were closed, her fingers curving and switching between notes. It took him a while to recognize the mournful song as his own. She leaned into the music, bathed in sunlight. The music wasnāt perfect; it wasnāt expert violin playing, but to Roman, it was the most beautiful thing heād ever heard. Her brow furrowed in concentration and deep emotion.
Jinsuk hit the last note and dropped the violin to her side, eyes fluttering open, her face flushed. She stepped toward Roman, pressing two fingers to his neck sliding them up. Then she stepped back, lifting the violin to her shoulder, and started another song, a song heād sung to her often. One he knew at heart. It was a mirthful song, but if you listened closely, there was a sad undertone, and the more you listened, the sadder the song became. He lifted his voice in harmony with her instrument. Tapping out the beat against his leg, rocking back and forth on his heels with the music.
The sound of his voice and her violin laced their fingers together, seeping into the churchās darkness. Roman sang of a seemingly happy man. Torn and broken apart by war and famine, when he returned home, everything went on as if it was fine. His family thought he was happy, but at the end of his song he leaves them buried deep in the ground with the sadness they couldnāt see. Romanās mother used to hate the song, scolding Romanās father whenever he sang it. Roman never understood why it was such an upbeat song. It wasnāt until he was older that he understood the lyrics and the tone.
He whispered the last two words of the song, echoing off the walls as if the church whispered along with him. Jinsuk lowered the violin. They stood there in silence for minutes, staring at each other. Then Jinsuk outstretched her palm laying it over his heart. It hammered beneath her gentle touch. She gazed up into his faded blue eyes with her dark ones.
Jinsuk whispered, āThat what I feel, hear, when you sing.ā
Romanās throat went dry. He wasnāt surprised sheād spoken English; theyād been learning it slowly together in hopes one day theyād escape their countries and go to America. Yet no one had ever said something soā¦ sweet? Lovely? Strange? Staggering? No, there wasnāt a right word for what sheād said meant to him. He repeated the words under his breath softly.
Jinsuk turned, her hand falling from his chest, and placed the violin back in its case lowering the lid like it was a coffin, but in a way it was. She shut the clasps and laid them in the middle of the church right under the sun. She stood and bowed to the violin, a homage to its last performance.
Roman wished he could stay in that moment forever with her. Singing, talking, even just sitting in silence together, but she slipped away too soon. Away from him, away from the church and their music. All he could do was follow in her wake.
They stepped out of the church into the open air. Jinsuk looked back one last time, watching, a twinge of sadness lingering in her eyes as she looked up at Roman. He took her hand, giving her a small smile, and they walked away.