Joseph left before Mattie could tell him how grateful she was. She gasped and hugged Poncho tightly with a teary smile. Meanwhile, the cellist stumbled back into the Mini Hall of his world and found that the recital was just beginning. Throughout the program, he had been so preoccupied with Mattie’s piece that he almost lost focus on his own. He played Faure’s Elegy. At first he made some mistakes, but as the music progressed he played more into it. He made his cello sing with deep, full tones and impressive technical runs, which captivated the audience.
As soon as his number was finished, he went outside, looking for Mattie. The College was almost as silent as it had been earlier, only, he could hear the sound of vehicles passing outside. He turned around, and almost bumped into a tall, thin man.
"Joseph!" the man remarked. It was the Chairman of the Composition Department. "Congratulations! Good performance back there." He briefly conversed with Joseph then said he was pleased that the program was going perfectly as planned before excusing himself to the bathroom. Joseph learned that the friendly teacher was very particular about the order of things.
As soon as he was gone, Joseph paced in front of the Hall, slapping his forehead. "I should have known this would happen," he grunted. He went in and out of the door to the Mini Hall, but nothing changed. The Chairman gave him questioning looks when they passed each other again. When Joseph had had enough, he gave up and decided to stay inside for good. “She asks a favour and doesn’t show up. Fine,” Joseph mumbled, irritated. “I’m not the one needing help anyway.”
Joseph stayed near the door until the recital's last number ended. Finally, the Chairman was about to stand up to conclude the program, when something nuzzled Joseph’s left leg. He looked down and saw Poncho. “What the...” He gulped. He felt time slow down. The Chairman was already on his feet. Once he reaches the stage, Joseph will entirely miss the chance to play Mattie’s piece. She needs this! But the Chairman hates unplanned changes. Does Joseph dare?
Hastily, Joseph picked Poncho up and ran to the stage, past the Chairman, almost tripping. He signalled an additional number to the shocked professor, who looked at him most disapprovingly. Joseph sat Poncho on the grand piano, took his cello from the side, and fumbled for Mattie’s piece which was almost crumpled in his pocket. Inadvertently, he felt himself smile.
"Hello again, everyone,” he began, breathing heavily, his voice croaking. “I am happy to announce that we have an addition to the program. It is a piece composed by the late Mattie Cruz, and this is her most prized work: an untitled duet for cello and –” he cleared his throat “– and cat." He flipped the first page and continued, "I shall read to you the program notes attached.
"It is the tale of a cow – here represented by the cello – who wants to wander past the farmlands but cannot because she is bound to her master. So she asks the cat who climbs a tree every day to describe to her as vividly as possible what the distant pastures are like.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the Untitled Duet for Cello and Cat by Mattie Cruz, to be played by yours truly on cello, and Poncho as cat."
There was loud murmuring in the hall as Joseph propped himself up on a chair with his instrument. Students left and right either cheered or hooted. Joseph heard someone say, “The composers have really taken it too far this time.” Although the people looked disbelieving, almost all of them had their recording devices out. He tried to ignore the fuss and just focus.
At first, everyone found the piece funny, especially when the cello and cat exchanged lines and the harmony was bare. As the music took shape, it began to sound like a light, melancholic lullaby. Everyone was most fascinated by Poncho’s melodious meowing which sounded so naturally musical, and her exact entrances. Sometimes she seemed to lead Joseph more than vice versa. She distinguished the themes of each of the landscapes, while Joseph set the mood clearly between musical passages with sustaining tones. At last it ended, cello and cat together, as gently as it began. The audience applauded, laughed, and cheered at the same time, amazed at the seemingly-impossible feat. When the Chairman went to the front to formally conclude the program, Joseph took Poncho and stepped outside before the restless crowd could scare her.
The College was completely still and silent once again, but Joseph was too excited to notice. “Great job!” he told Poncho, who meowed as he scratched her head. Just then, someone slapped his back so hard he almost fell face-first on the floor. He turned around, and immediately his frown became a grin. “Mattie!” That hurt, he would’ve added. “How do you feel?”
Mattie gave him a smile so warm it made the peace from within her seem to radiate. "I’ve never been better! I can’t thank you enough." She squatted on the ground and took Poncho into her arms. “I’m sorry we didn’t make it to the rehearsal, though.”
Joseph laughed nervously. “You two and your untimely entrances. But it’s alright, Poncho made it look like I was the one who needed rehearsing.” He told the composer how the performance went, and how the people reacted afterward. “By the way, in your program notes you wrote of a cow that longed for freedom. You were writing about yourself, weren't you?"
"Yes... My obsession with my work bound me in this fate; ironic, how the piece that caused my struggle depicted it. But I realize that I am happy not so much because people heard it but because Poncho finally made her stage debut.” She kissed the cat’s head then put her back down. “Well, that does it. Thank you for your help, Joseph, truly!” Mattie kept on thanking him as they shook hands. “Until we meet again. By the way, the piece is yours! It’s a token of my gratitude."
At last, Joseph parted from Poncho and Mattie. Although he was glad for those two, and proud of what he did, he felt a hint of sadness, wishing he could have known them better. Now back in his own world, he was surprised to see so many people coming to congratulate him, but he felt fulfilled because of something much more valuable than his performance in the recital.
Later, as Joseph was about to leave, an angry voice suddenly called him from behind. "Joseph!" the Chairman shouted. "You have a lot of explaining to do."
The cellist laughed nervously, but felt as though nothing could diminish the happiness that lingered within him. He walked toward the professor, ready to answer for his actions with confidence and a strangely comforting sense of joy.
