mozart-and-mocha

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

After hanging out with F major and F minor, I felt excited. I could barely keep myself from smiling as my dad drove me home. The next day, I went to school and immediately remembered my behaviour the previous day when some of my classmates started laughing at me.

“Shut up!” I hissed. 

“Woah, someone is angry,” Janice said in a mocking tone. Janice was rich and pretty, and sometimes she acted like her parents hadn’t bought her manners. Right now was one of those times. In a fit of rage, I lunged at her. She ducked to the side, but I managed to grab her hand. “Oooh,” she managed, trying to smile. “Fierce.”

I glared at her, ready to yell at her. Before I could think of what to say, I thought I heard a voice whisper to me, “She’s not worth it.” The voice seemed familiar. I glanced around, but didn’t see anyone else apart from Janice and some of her friends from my class: Jerome, Daisy, Oliver, and Henry. Those 5 annoyed me and enjoyed picking on me. But something told me to ignore them for now, even Janice whose hand I was gripping. I let go of her and gave her one of my angry looks. “Try laughing at me again, let’s see what happens,” I growled.

That voice...where had I last seen the person whose voice it was?

Later that day, after classes had finished for the day, I saw A major hovering around the area just outside my school. “You’re back on duty,” I said. “F major said you were busy yesterday and he took your place.”

A major smiled. “I had to discuss something with A minor.”

“Discussing as in just talking or nearly yelling and scowling at each other like you did at the train station a few weeks ago?” I was trying to be funny, but I guess my attempt backfired, because instead of laughing, A major frowned.

“Not funny, Rafaela.” A major looked like a sulking teenager, which she would have been if she were human.

“Sorry,” I shrugged. Normally, I would have felt bad, but after dealing with Janice and her friends during this morning and again during math and English literature, I was in no mood to feel bad for any faux pas I might have made. “I guess humour doesn’t always work on you...um...musical personalities.”

“Look, right now is a stressful time, so we’re less likely to laugh along at comments that might once have amused us. And since C major and A minor are on the frontlines of this battle, some of the stress that A minor faces passes on to me.” I heard the exasperation in her voice. I turned and started walking towards the music library as I didn’t want another unhappy conversation, and I needed to borrow books for my music essay. To my annoyance, A major followed me.

“That’s it, you’re leaving your post?” I asked. “I walk out of school to go home and you’re following me, just like that?”

“Actually, I’m supposed to look for you today.”

“Then what about other possible synaesthetes who might pass by? I’m sure I’m not the only one in this area, considering we’re near a music library and an arts performing centre.” As we crossed the road, I glanced at the aforementioned buildings a few blocks away.

“That’s where the rest of my trio comes in,” A major grinned. “There’s a reason we work in groups...”

“Yes, yes, I know,” I interrupted, not wanting to hear the explanation again. I found myself looking around for F major and D minor. 

“Are they around here? Your trio, I mean.”

At that moment, I heard a voice I had heard enough of for the week. Janice.

“Hey Rafaela, no wonder you talk to kids! You look like one yourself, maybe they think you’re one of them!” Janice yelled. Daisy and Henry were with her, and they started giggling.

I rolled my eyes. “Ugh. I really should have punched her and decked her friends this morning.”

“They sound like they’re the childish ones,” A major said. “But in any case...did you hear a voice telling you they weren’t worth worrying about this morning?”

I stared at A major. “How did you know that? Was that you?”

She laughed. “Nope, wasn’t me. But you forget, we keep one another updated.”

“So that was another one of you keys,” I grumbled. “Am I allowed to know which one it was?”

“Definitely one you’ve personally met before,” A major promised. “Which rules a lot of the keys out.”

“That’s helpful,” I said sarcastically. I was in no mood to spend my brainpower guessing which key had chimed into my thoughts without being there this morning. “Really helpful.”

“Okay, fine. It was F minor.”

I mentally slapped myself. No wonder that voice had sounded so familiar.

“How did she manage that when she wasn’t even there? Is telepathy one of your secret powers, aside from manipulating people’s emotions?

“Well, yeah, I guess you could call it that. Though I prefer to think of it as tuning into your mind.” A major tugged on a strand of hair absentmindedly. It wasn’t fair. She looked 14 and yet she was the same height as me, or maybe even taller. Was there any of the keys I was taller than?

“That’s creepy. I don’t like my privacy invaded, especially if it’s my head,” I said aloud, hoping A major didn’t hear my thoughts. “Wait, did you just hear my thoughts? Please say no.”

“Honestly? Nah.”

I sighed in relief. But A major wasn’t done talking. She launched into one of her lengthy explanations.

“That’s because for us to tune into a synaesthete’s thoughts, we have to do it intentionally. Since we’re, well, personifications of music keys, we can channel our thoughts into music that’s playing in our key, which is how we sometimes fight our battles against those officials trying to snuff everything out. If we want to communicate with a musical synnie but we aren’t physically near them, we find someone near our target who is listening to music. Classical with a small c is preferred, but as long as the music is tonal and not using synthesized instruments, it works. If the key of the music is the same as the one who wants to communicate, let’s say F minor, she channels her thoughts into the music and it reaches you. If the key is different, we get that key to mix in their emotional influence with the key who wants to talk. In some cases, if it’s really urgent, we teleport ourselves through the music to within 25 metres of the target.”

“Sounds supersonically supernatural,” I said. “Do you actually become sound for those few seconds? And how do you materialise after that?” Now we were in front of the library but I didn’t feel like going in and having to keep silent right when A major was explaining the intricacies of her world to me.

“You forget, we ARE sound, Rafaela,” A major chided. “But yes, I see what you’re asking. We concentrate our thoughts and imagine ourselves travelling through sound waves to the musician we need to talk to, and when we feel physically closer to them, we lighten the concentration and appear in our human forms near the target. Of course, this is how we call for backup in a fight. Phone calls and texts are way too obvious and time-consuming. With this, we channel ourselves into one another’s thoughts to get their attention. Faster and more discreet. I should mention, it’s easier to channel into another key’s thoughts if they are more related to you on the circle of fifths. Relative and parallel keys, easy. Dominant and subdominant keys, easy but less so. Tritones, like me and E-flat major, are possible but they’re rather hard and painful. So we do that only if necessary. In most cases, we hardly work with keys with which we’d form a tritone with anyway.”

“This sounds like stuff only a supernatural being could do,” I remarked, as I saw down on a bench. A major sat next to me. “I mean, tuning into people’s emotions, travelling through sound waves to communicate with them? Not human.”

“Some people have joked about us being gods of different themes or ideas we are associated with. For example, C major would have been the god of childhood, simplicity, and new beginnings if we were a pantheon of 24 gods, with some of us having multiple forms. Kind of like Greco-Roman mythology - the gods had a Greek form and a Roman form. Well, some of them, anyway,” A major looked lost in thought, like the idea had suddenly occurred to her.

“So what would you be?” I asked.

“What do you mean, what would I be?” A major asked. She seemed distracted.

“If you were a pantheon rather than personifications of music keys, what would you be god of? Or goddess, should I say?”

A smile tugged at the corner of A major’s lips. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness. Maybe playfulness and youth?”

“How about the goddess of mood swings?” 

A major smacked me in a friendly way on my wrist. “Hey!” she protested.

I laughed. “You are capricious, you know. One moment you’re smiling, the next you’re frowning or even scowling, with or without a reason. Does Dave know?”

“Dave was introduced to this whole musical synaesthete business later than you were, so I’d say it’s unlikely, unless the keys he’s been in contact with have told him.”

“Okay, this has been a very educational conversation, but I need to go in and borrow books for a music essay,” I said as I stood up. “Are you done with me?”

“No.”

“Bossy,” I muttered, walking towards the doors of the library.

“Excuse me?” A major pouted, and if I had been a passer-by, I would have thought she was a teenager about to have one of her temper tantrums. As it was, I decided I had to go in and ignore her.

“I’m busy.” With those words, I entered the library and the heavy doors slowly swung shut behind me, allowing me to hear a response.

“Rafaela,” A major hissed. Her voice had a tone of urgency in it.

“What?” I knew I sounded exasperated, but I was honestly done with this musical battle for today. I turned around and looked through the glass doors, not quite sure what I was hoping to see. I opened one door slightly to hear what was going on.

A man dressed like a security guard was walking to A major. She looked...irritated. “You,” she growled.

The man laughed. “Finally, I’ve stumbled upon one of you musicians. Not much for fighting, are you? All you do is practise making sounds to manipulate emotions. We can’t have that.” 

A major lunged at him, and for a moment he looked surprised. I expected A major to knock him to the ground, but instead he caught her and pinned her arms behind her. I was about to yell when A major glanced at me through the glass door and shook her head, mouthing, “No.” I realised I was watching a fight in real time, and since the man didn’t seem to notice me, maybe A major wanted it that way.

F major? I thought. I need help. Well, A major actually. Did this channeling of thoughts work if it was initiated by a human? Apparently it didn’t, because there seemed to be no effect. A major was struggling and kicking against the guard, who was grunting with the effort it took to hold A major in place. I looked around and realised that there were only two people nearby, and it didn’t look like they saw anything.

I wanted to help A major, but I was afraid of making things worse. Help, I pleaded silently. Then I made a decision worthy of my ADHD. I quickly put my laptop in my schoolbag, chucked my bag under a seat by the wall, and went to help A major.

I stealthily went behind the guard, keeping some distance so he wouldn’t suspect anything. As he and A major struggled against each other, I inched towards him. A major was spouting some of her insults, which only seemed to make her captor angrier. “Silence!” he snarled. “We can’t have musicians and their helpers, like you, wreaking havoc in society!”

Helper? That’s all he thought A major was? 

“The ones wreaking havoc are you and your butt-faced goons!” A major yelled back. “Stinky slimeballs you lot are!” Trust A major to insult people even during a fight. As her captor shot back an insult in reply, I seized the opportunity and kicked the guard in the back of the knee. He yelped and loosened his grip on A major, who nearly fell but managed to steady herself. 

“Wha-” he turned around and looked at me. “This is not what you think!” he said. “You think I’m kidnapping a girl, is that right? What if I told you she’s the harmful one and I’m keeping society safe from her?”

“A likely story!” I snorted. “You really expect me to buy that?”

“You don’t understand.” The guard turned to look at A major, who looked slightly shaken and angry. “She messes with society by introducing this thing we call emotion, and my job is to keep her in check. Now back off.” He walked towards her and away from me.

"You really think a young child like her can be that powerful?” The lie tasted bitter in my mouth, but I had to trick the guard into thinking I was ignorant of the whole situation. Let me be clear: I do not stand for treating kids as lesser based on their age. “Why are you wasting your energy attacking a helpless girl?” I hoped he forgot that A major was not helpless in the least. Unfortunately, the guard hadn’t forgotten that capturing A major wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

“I don’t believe you truly think she’s helpless,” he growled. “You’re trying to confuse me, but that won’t work! I’ve been sent to capture her and her friends, and if you are one of them, you’ll regret it.” 

I stepped back nervously, and the guard laughed. “Not much good at fighting, are you? I can sense your fear.” He grinned at me.

I closed my eyes and I wished I had F minor with me to take this goon down in a fight. I tried to imagine her power and energy, and instead I got a snippet of the first movement of Beethoven’s Appassionata sonata playing in my mind. Before long, however, the music switched to the fifth piece of Schubert’s Moments Musicaux. Rage and determination suddenly filled me, and I heard F minor’s voice like I did this morning: Failure isn’t the end of the world. You’re too hard on yourself.

You know what, I thought back. Watch me.

The guard was focusing on A major again, apparently convinced I wasn’t a threat. I yelled and charged, distracting him. As he turned to face me, A major seized the opportunity to punch him in the jaw. He howled in pain, and as he swivelled to face her again, I punched him in the back where his kidneys were. It wasn’t as hard as I’d have liked, but it did the trick. He doubled over and sank to his knees. “Curse...you!” he wheezed out.

Adrenaline rushed through me, and I realised F minor had channeled into my thoughts again, filling me with the emotional state I needed at the moment. Telling me that failure was an option worked wonders, compared to the times I told myself I could do it and I ended up being even more stressed. I wondered if the keys had some knowledge of human psychology. Trust them to know a bit of everything.

A major smiled at me, though she was sweaty and red in the face. “That was awesome,” she said. “Didn’t know you could fight like that.”

“It wasn’t much of a fight,” I said modestly. “All I did was distract him.”

“Say, did F minor channel into your thoughts again?”

“How do you know that?”

“She did the same to me. Well, since our key signatures are different, there was another key involved, or maybe even more, but it filled me with the energy I needed to win this fight.” 

“Oh. Anyway, I need to go to the library. It’s been an hour, and I still haven’t done what I needed to do. See you another time.” I walked towards the library where I had left my belongings. I hoped they were still there.

“Wait!” A major called after me. “There’s something I think you should know.”

“Again?!” Then I covered my mouth. What if it was concerning my friends?

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she said, eerily echoing what F minor had said to me. “I know you’re worried about schoolwork and your personal life, but as long as you’re doing your best, you’re fine.”

“I don’t recall telling you about my troubles,” I said.

“Yesterday, when you were with F major, I heard what you said. Someone nearby was listening to Festive Overture by Shostakovich, and I used that to listen in on your convo.”

“Oh.” I felt the blood rush to my face. Being eavesdropped on by a 14-year-old was embarrassing. At least she had explained how she knew what was going on. “You did the channeling thing?”

“Yeah, but that’s besides the point. Doing well in school isn’t what determines your worth as a person. It doesn’t mean anything apart from you being able to follow instructions. You’re so much more than that.”

My face felt very hot. Here’s a tip: if A major starts lecturing you about things like personal worth, it’s best to walk away before you die of embarrassment.

“Point taken. Now, I really need to borrow books for my essay.” 

To my relief, A major disappeared and left me alone.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

It was nearly 12 weeks since I first ran into the keys, and while things got weirder as I learned more about their world, school was getting more stressful. I’m enrolled in the International Baccalaureate program, and for anyone who has earned their diploma, they will understand how stressful it is.

Today was Wednesday, which meant that classes ended at 3.15pm for me, and instead of going home, I decided to stay in school and get some work done. I was on a roll, which for me meant that my ADHD brain was in a productive mode and I didn’t want to waste it. I was working on my Theory of Knowledge essay, and I was so exhausted after an hour and 45 minutes that I felt dizzy. Enough for now, I told myself. I’ll go home and either do more tonight or take a break.

Earlier today, I had acted up and jumped up and down in front of the class when the maths teacher (who happened to be the key of D major) returned our fortnight test scores. My class was taking Higher Level mathematics, and since it was a hard class, D major decided that frequent practice would help us in dealing with this class. Every two weeks, we would have a short quiz with 3-5 questions. That might not sound like a lot, but we always had new content to cover, and each question had many parts to it. This time, I had done fairly well by my standards, which were lower than most of the class since I struggled in school due to my ADHD. For me, getting 60% and above was an achievement, especially if I did not take my meds. I scored 67% for today’s test, and my impulsivity led me to jump excitedly in the air for a few seconds while the rest of the class stared at me. I apologised and returned to my seat, feeling heat radiating from my face. D major glanced at me sympathetically before continuing with the lesson. The whole class knew about my condition, however, that didn’t stop the stares. After that, during lunch, some of my classmates started laughing at me. I stormed out of the classroom, while my friend Erica accompanied me and tried to comfort me. “It’s okay,” she said. “They don’t understand what it’s like, and they need to feel better about themselves, so they’ll find anything weird to laugh at. You’re awesome, Raf. You’ll always be cool to me.” I didn’t believe her.

The anger and sadness that I would not be normal and not fit in with my classmates stayed with me until I finally went home. As I made my way out of the school building, I saw a couple of my classmates ahead of me, walking alone. I decided to avoid them and purposely walked slower than my usual walking speed. As I walked past the shopping mall next to my school, I saw a familiar figure walking towards me. F major.

He spoke in his kind and gentle voice. “Hey, Rafaela.”

“Hi,” I mumbled. I wasn’t in any mood to talk, but with F major, I felt my mood begin to lighten. “Any reason you’re here today?”

“A major was supposed to be here today, but she was busy talking to A minor, so here I am. I think she’s coming here soon, though, so I’m free to leave.”

“So...what are your plans for later? I’m supposed to have dinner at home, but my mother and I had an argument this morning, and I don’t really feel like going home.” As I spoke, I continued walking towards the train station.

“Won’t your parents get mad? Not like I really had them myself, but when we were in our early stages, before the Baroque era, people took care of us. I guess that’s my closest understanding to what you call parents.” I turned to look at F major in amazement.

“I didn’t know you existed that far back,” I remarked. Suddenly, I had a craving for Starbucks, and since there was an outlet at the mall next to my school, I found my feet pointing in that direction. “I have a sudden craving for Starbucks,” I announced. “Don’t mind me.” In reality, I was secretly hoping F major would come along. I just loved having him around.

“How about a treat?” he said.

“No way,” I replied. “I...can’t expect free stuff from other people. Or...um...you know what I mean.” Did F major count as a person when most of the world didn’t know he existed?

He smiled. “I’m having a meeting with F minor there, anyway. You could come say hi.”

“What? F minor?”

“...yes?” F major looked confused. 

“I met her before, only that I didn’t know that then. She was my swimming coach,” I explained.

“I’m not surprised,” he admitted. “C major probably set that up. He’s in charge of most of us, in the sense that he assigns our groups for working together, or plans where we go to find synaesthetes. I mean specifically people with ordinal linguistic personification, but the musical form.”

By this time, we were at Starbucks. I looked around and saw my former swimming coach sitting at a low table, looking athletic as ever. She was looking at the door as we walked in, and she smiled. I ran over to her and gave her a hug. “It’s been a while,” I said. “We’ve met a couple of times, since then, but these were hurried and we didn’t get to talk much.”

F minor smiled at me, and in that instant, I suddenly saw how similar she and F major were to each other. The vibe they were both giving off was powerful, and I suddenly felt ready to face my classmates again, only that I’d have to wait until tomorrow. 

“I told her she could come say hi,” F major said. “I wonder, what if you had been her piano teacher instead?”

“You what?” My voice went up.  “You’re a piano teacher as well?!”

“Maybe you could sit in with us, Rafaela,” F minor invited. “Unless you need to go home. I don’t want to keep your parents waiting.”

Are you kidding, I thought. I got to spend some times with my favourite key and his parallel minor, who had been my swimming coach and whom I liked very much as well.

“It’s fine,” I said. “I just need to be home by 10PM.” 

“Are you sure?” F major said. “We don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted. “So...what are the two of you discussing today?”

F minor laughed, a familiar sound I didn’t realise I missed. “Before we get into that, let’s buy something so it doesn’t look like we’re hogging the space.” She waved me towards F major. “Choose anything you want.”

“No!” I protested, as I followed F major to the counter. “I’m paying for my order myself.”

“Well, you can choose to do that and still have a free drink that you may or may not like, or you can choose to tell me what you want and let me pay for it, and save your money in the process, not to mention the effort put in by the baristas to make your drink,” F major said. 

“Hey, that’s unfair. I...”

“So which is it, Rafaela?” F major smiled. “You can choose.”

I realised I wasn’t going to win. “Fine, I’ll have a grande chocolate chip frappe with whipped cream. Thanks,” I said. I fought the urge to hug him. What was it with me and F major?

We walked back to our table after getting our orders, and the two F-based keys sat next to each other, opposite me. I wondered if we looked like family where the kid was having a treat with her parents after school. For a moment, I wished that they were my family.

“On Saturday, we will be waiting around the library near the concert hall,” F major said. “You have classes in the morning, so you’ll come after you’re done. If nothing happens, we just update C major with what happened via electronic means and move on with the next step. If something happens, let’s say, a fight with one of those officials, we call for backup. I’ll have A major and D minor with me if we need them.”

F minor nodded. “I’ll have A-flat major and D-flat major join us too, if we need them.”

“Hold up,” I interrupted. “Officials? Back up? And two flat major keys with lots of flats as backup?”

F minor grinned. “I’m sure F major has explained to you that there are officials who are stifling expressions of creativity and emotion, and classical music is among the targets. As such, these guys often attack musicians, to intimidate them, and that’s why they need us to help them. In a way, we too need them, because it takes us and them to work together to keep classical music going, and in turn, emotion will remain here. Other art forms have their own fighters too, though we don’t know much of them. We wouldn’t know if, for example, there are personified colours walking around, doing similar jobs as us, but for painters and other visual artists. Sometimes, when we’re engaged in a fight with one of them, occasionally to defend a musician, we find that there are more of them we can handle. So that’s where the backup comes in, typically consisting of the trios we are assigned to. The tonic of F major’s trio makes up the D minor triad: D minor, F major, and A major. Mine is the D-flat major triad: D-flat major, me, and A-flat major. If we’re lucky, we have our relative keys in the same triad as us, but it’s not necessary. Sometimes we go out in different groups, if C major wishes to switch things up a little. Once, he even sent out pairs that formed tritones.”

F major grimaced. “I was in one of those pairs. I had to work with B minor, and the tension that was constantly there was exhausting to navigate. We nearly ended up yelling at each other.”

“Wow,” I wheezed. “So what’s with F minor’s triad? I mean, I kinda expected you to be in a triad of a different key, like your own.”

F major glanced at F minor and smiled mischievously. “You might not believe it, but F minor is so strong and fierce that D-flat major and A-flat major were chosen to calm her down sometimes. You remember that F minor is the mediant key of D-flat major, and A-flat major is the relative. Since both keys are flat keys and relatively calm, they were selected as the perfect balance for fiery F minor. C major didn’t want another flat minor key to be with her in the same group, since that would be too intense, and other triads should get a flat minor if possible. Anyway, F minor called for backup once, but by the time D-flat major and A-flat major arrived, her opponents, yes, two of them, had run away. In a different scenario, though, F minor might have really needed the backup. F minor and her companions use different strategies to fight, and how D-flat major and A-flat major fight. These two can fight like F minor, but they are much better at calming the opponent down until they are in no mood to fight. Sometimes the opponent may even become sleepy when battling D-flat major and A-flat major, since music in these keys is often calming. ”

“Clair de Lune by Debussy,” I said. “And Schubert’s Impromptu Op. 142, No. 2. Well, at least the opening is calming, anyway.”

“Usually the first 20 measures or so, including repeats, suffice when generating the emotion or mood required. And also, when it comes to my assigned triad, people often expect these two keys to be tranquil and not worth paying attention to in a fight, but these two use that perception of them to their advantage.”

“Any chance I’d meet them soon?” I asked. “I’ve already met you two, D minor, and A major. And I’ve seen A minor once in public, but she was busy talking to A major, and then she left. I don’t think A minor even knew I was there.”

“Let’s hope that time doesn’t come soon, because that would mean things are getting bad. And I have to go, since I have a swimming class at 6.30pm,” F minor said. I glanced at my watch - it was 5.45pm. 

Suddenly my mind went back to those weekend evenings when I had swimming class that lasted for one and a half hours. I hated the backstroke, because I kept crashing into the lane ropes and occasionally whacking my hand on the concrete at the end of the lane. Sometimes I’d even swim into another swimmer’s feet, since I was on my back and couldn’t see them. And the double arm butterfly stroke was tiring, but it was amazing to be able to do, and hold my breath for 4 or more kicks. “I miss those days,” I said. “Sometimes I want to go back to the past.”

“We all have these feelings, kid,” F major said. “But focusing on the present is what’s important, and maybe the future.”

“I’ve gotta go. See you soon,” F minor waved goodbye as she walked away. 

I was alone with F major. “So...that was it? I felt like most of it was explaining things to me rather than the two of you actually discussing your plans.”

“Honestly, it was just to make sure we were both up to date on our plans. Usually, we only spend a few minutes planning, and then we spend the rest of the time bonding together, which is important since this new order is trying to destroy our bonds and return everything to a dull, emotionless state, which includes the use of atonality specially engineered for this purpose. I’m aware that not all atonality is emotionless, but the kind we’re facing in recent years most certainly is, and that’s what we’re fighting against. We can’t let society, even the non-musicians, go to that state. Like F minor said, we’re indirectly working together with the other art forms. Professionals in their respective artistic fields are also up to the task of defending their art forms.”

“That’s sad. Having to defend yourself, I mean,” I said. This reminded me of constantly defending myself from bullies, teachers who didn’t understand my ADHD, and even my own parents sometimes. With F minor gone, I suddenly dreaded the thought of going to school tomorrow. I was tempted to make myself sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school for a valid reason, then I remembered I had a consultation regarding my music essay at 1.15pm tomorrow. And then I started thinking about my other subjects as well, kind of like playing “6 degrees of Kevin Bacon” but with the thoughts in my mind.

Before I knew it, I was tearing up. I realised F major was looking at me with concern in his eyes, but I was too embarrassed to make eye contact with him. “I’m fine,” I mumbled. “Just stressed about school. I have this critical thinking essay, a music essay I have a consultation for tomorrow, I need to study for mathematics, and I have a lab session for chemistry on Friday.” At this point, I was crying. “I like chemistry, but the lab sessions are so stressful. I always misread the instructions, I have to repeat my experiments, and then my data is different from everyone else’s. And then writing the lab report is hard, and my teacher gets mad at me for not keeping up.”

“Here.” F major handed me a paper handkerchief. I took it, and then I moved from my seat to where F minor had sat just now, so that I was next to F major. I wished he would hug me, but maybe he didn’t want to make me uncomfortable. Or maybe he was worried about what other people might think if they saw a grown man hugging an unrelated girl, even though we both knew it would be innocuous.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “ADHD is a bitch to have. It ruins my academic success and my social life.”

F major patted my head sympathetically. “I know,” he said. “A major and D minor both told me.”

My phone buzzed, and when I checked it, it was a text from my father. He had had a meeting in town, and since he was near my school, he wanted to know if I needed a ride home since he knew I sometimes stayed back to study. I’m at the Starbucks next to my school with a friend, I texted back.

Stay there, my dad replied. Apparently, he needed to buy something and it was available at the mall where I was right now. He would buy whatever it was, then he would come to Starbucks to get me. After that, we would walk to the car together.

“My dad’s coming here soon, in around twenty to thirty minutes,” I told F major. I felt the tears drying. “Sorry for all of that, by the way. It’s just...being who I am makes life hard. Sometimes it’s the thought of you guys that makes me excited for the next day when I’d see one of you again.”

F major almost looked sad. At that moment, I realised how sad F major could be, especially for a major key. Did he ever reach D minor levels of sadness?

“Guess who I’ve heard that line from,” he said. “You two sound eerily alike sometimes, especially when you’re sad, or in her case, severely depressed.”

“Hey now, I’m not depressed. I have ADHD, which is not depression.” 

“I’m no psychiatrist, but ADHD and depression can and do occur together,” F major said. “Sometimes depression comes as an effect of dealing with ADHD, especially in an unsupportive environment, and sometimes it’s there by itself, independent of ADHD. What I mean is, having ADHD doesn’t mean you’re immune from depression. Quite the opposite, actually. There’s a higher risk of having depression as a co-morbid condition if you have ADHD.”

“Damn,” I said. “I really hope I do not have it. Having ADHD is bad enough, I do not need to have to deal with depression too.”

“My relative minor deals with depression, and that’s who I meant when I said you two sound eerily similar when you’re sad,” F major said. I felt a jolt go through me at the mention of D minor.

“Is..she okay?” I demanded, forgetting about my own problems. 

“I think you should focus on yourself for now,” F major replied, avoiding giving me an answer, which made me suspicious. “You’re very kind, Rafaela, but worrying too much about others isn’t going to do you and your grades any favours. I’m sure you’re managing well at school, and now isn’t the time to uproot all of that, especially when you’ve worked so hard for your grades. ADHD can make school even harder, and I want you to do well.”

I glanced at my watch. At least 15 more minutes until my dad came. “That’s not an answer,” I said, fiddling with the used paper handkerchief which was soaked with my tears from minutes ago. “D minor is my friend like you are, and I’m worried for her the same way I’d be worried for you if you were in that position.”

“You sure you want to waste your energy worrying about something you can’t control?” F major said. “We’ve been around since the start of classical music history, our early days were during the Renaissance period, and you’re 17. We’ve been handling our issues much longer than you’ve been handling your own.”

I was comfortable being with F major that I had nearly forgotten he wasn’t just an older adult I felt safe with.

“When you put it that way...I guess I should just trust that you have things sorted out. But you’re still affected by human experiences, and some of them can be horrible to go through.”

At that moment, I started thinking about what had happened earlier today and how my classmates had laughed at me. I felt myself freeze, and a cold nervous feeling spread from my stomach to the rest of my internal organs. It was the same feeling I got when the teacher was about to hand back test papers and the announcement before the return of the papers was that some students did really badly. More often that not, I was one of those students. I inhaled deeply.

F major stared out the window, watching people walk by for a few seconds before speaking. He almost looked wistful. “I would know about that. I’ve gone through some of that myself.”

I looked at him. “Like what?”

“Let’s just say that some people, apart from those officials we are always up against, don’t like me, and while that’s fine, the problem is that sometimes I’ve been decked in public because of that. It helps that I can defend myself, but the emotional impact sure gets me. And that makes me worry that if something like that were to happen to D minor, I can’t protect her since I’d likely be attacked myself. I know F minor’s fine, it’s my relative minor I’ve always been afraid I can’t protect.” 

I wondered if F major was aware that his voice had gotten sadder as he spoke. In a way, he almost reminded me of D minor. I thought it was sweet of him, to worry about his loved ones even when he himself was in trouble.

“I’ve noticed you seem pretty sad for a major key,” I said. 

“Again, you’re not the first person to say that to me. D minor said that to me once, when we were discussing how sometimes, after a fight, she would find me knocked out. She said that it kinda shook her since I’m supposed to be the protective one among the two of us.”

“Do relative majors always do the protecting in a relative pair of keys?” I asked.

“You’ve forgotten about F minor,” F major said, with a hint of a smile. “She does most of the fighting, while A-flat major keeps the opponent in a calm and restful mood.”

I mentally cursed myself for forgetting how powerful F minor was, and assuming that she as a minor key depended on A-flat major for protection. “Right,” I said. “F minor and A-flat major seem like the odd pair where the minor appears to be stronger and more active than the major.”

“I think the same could be said of G major and E minor, but they’re so different in personality I think they’re happy to work in different triads.”

At that moment, I looked up past F major’s face and saw my dad walking through the door, looking for me. I stood up and yelled across the café, ignoring the stares. My dad smiled when he saw me, and when he saw F major sitting next to where I was standing, he looked confused. He walked over to us.

“Hi, Raf. I hope you were productive today,” my dad said, as he ruffled my hair affectionately. I did not introduce F major and my dad to each other, since my dad didn’t know anything about music apart from note names. However, my dad had other ideas.

“Hi, I’m Rafaela’s dad,” he said, smiling to F major. “I’m assuming you’re her friend?”

Whoops. I had no idea how F major planned to introduce himself to my non-musical, non-synaesthetic dad. Even if my dad only knew music theory but didn’t have synaesthesia, this situation would have been a lot less awkward. What human name should I give F major for this situation? If it had been D minor here with me now, I’d just call her Re and my dad would think her name was Rae/Ray/Rey or one of those spellings, though probably a more feminine one. (I’m aware that Ray/Rey are more likely to be used on a guy.) “Hi,” F major said, interrupting my thoughts. “You’re right, I’m her friend. She was productive today.”

“That’s great,” my dad said distractedly. “Hope you’re doing well in school,” he added, as he turned away and started walking. I realised that 1. my dad was only being polite and he didn’t really have any interest in talking as he was stressed about work, and 2. he thought F major was my classmate, or at least my schoolmate. I felt relief spread throughout my body. I turned around and waved to F major, who looked amazing. Fluffy layered brown hair that was shorter than shoulder-length, soft blue eyes set in a pale face, lean shoulders...and as he stood up, I suddenly noticed how tall he was, which somehow I had never noticed before. He was a head taller than me. F major looked like the kind of European guys I was always staring at. For some reason, I found that kind of face pleasant to look at, but I had never felt any attachment to the people whose faces they were as I didn’t get to know them personally, but this was different. I knew F major. As I followed my dad to the carpark, I wondered what it was like, charging into battle with F major against those officers who tried to stifle the arts. And maybe grabbing a coffee afterward, watching the sunset. 

[mozart-and-mocha]

Major key with one flat

After getting that text from my relative minor, I got that feeling that something was wrong. Sometimes she did have very low moods, so I wasn’t surprised, but I felt like she needed someone to talk to. Why else would she have texted me?

I called D minor to check on her, but she hung up after a couple of exchanges. I was starting to feel worried, so I called D major, her parallel major, to check on her. I was still at the office, and I had a meeting going on, but I managed to excuse myself for a couple of minutes.

When it was time to go home, I checked my messages as I walked and bumped into a couple of walls. From what I read, my relative minor was ignoring her texts from D major. 

I called D major and hoped she would pick up straight away. She picked up on the fourth ring. “Hey, could we meet at D minor’s apartment? I think...“ I was interrupted before I could finish.

“Yeah, I understand. See you there,” D major said. With that, the call was disconnected. D major, always understanding the situation and not wasting any time.

I sighed as I brisk-walked to my car. Damn this whole battle between us and the government with their stupid restrictions on emotional expression and creativity on different art forms, classical music included. 

I got to the apartment and D major wasn’t there yet. I decided to go in first and talk to my relative minor alone. I sent a text to D major, I’m here and I’ll talk to her first - just wait here when you arrive.

I found myself in an empty living room with the lights on, with a phone on the couch. I pressed the on/off button and the screen lit up. Unread messages from D major. The bedroom door was shut, but unlocked. I pushed it open and went in.

I walked in and saw my relative minor standing alone, her back towards me, holding her favourite scarf that she had received a few years ago for Christmas. The position she was standing in allowed me to see her face from the bathroom mirror, since the bathroom door was open. Her expression mostly looked blank, but I thought I sensed a tiny flicker of grief. I stood still for a few seconds, and as I was about to speak, the focus came back into her eyes, like she was no longer lost in thought.

D minor seemed to have realised she wasn’t alone. I saw a look of surprise cross her face through her reflection, which was how she saw me, and she turned around to face me. “You’re...here?”

I took a step towards her. “You texted me, and I thought you needed me, so I came,” I replied. Just a fact, nothing grand about it. “I knew you weren’t okay,” I continued. I raised an arm towards her.

D minor moved towards me, and for a moment, I braced myself out of reflex. In the past, when someone moved towards me in the same manner, it was often followed by them attacking me and shoving me to the floor. Usually this happened when someone mocked my higher-than-average voice and gentle mannerisms. It often helped that I am tall and strong, as it meant I could defend myself, but that did not remove the years of trauma when I was constantly wondering if I would be attacked for being me. I suppose this is why I often thought I could understand my relative minor’s emotional pain. Back in the present, D minor fell into my arms, and instinctively I wrapped my arms around her in an embrace.

I felt her bury her face in my shoulder as she relaxed into me. “You really needed someone to understand how much you were hurting,” I said quietly. As I spoke, I realised my shoulder was damp.

She lifted her head slightly from my shoulder. “How did you know?” she said, her voice trembling.

“I’m your relative major, and I think I would know if you were suicidal, which you often are. Today wasn’t any different,” I replied.

“I’ve always thought that nobody would care, but I felt the very least I could do was give you an explanation,” she said, still leaning into me.

“I’ve always cared about you,” I said softly, still hugging her. “We all need to hear that from someone and have them mean it.” I wondered if she heard that enough from the people in her life. 

“I felt like I was bothering you and everyone else, so I thought you would be better off without me,” I heard D minor say, her words partially muffled. 

“Why would you think that?” I asked, confused. I knew I had my own life and problems to deal with, but it never meant that I cared about the people in my life any less. I had no idea my relative minor thought she was a bother to me.

“No reason...I just thought I would do everyone a favour and...” I heard her voice choking up and I wondered what she was going to say. I held her by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. For a second, we held eye contact before she looked away. Tonight, my relative minor seemed broken, like the mood of a quiet and slow piano piece in the key of D minor that could wrench the hearts of listeners. 

“Do you want to go outside?” I offered. Maybe, just maybe, a walk and some fresh air would clear her mind. 

“Sure,” she mumbled. I held her hand as we walked out to the living room, D major was sitting at the kitchen table like she had a few weeks ago, marking homework assignments while waiting like I had asked her to in my last text to her. She looked up at us.

“We’re going outside,” I announced.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you two were a couple,” D major commented. I turned to look at D minor, and her cheeks were turning pink. I was still holding her hand. Suddenly I had no idea what to do. Should I let go of her?

“Is that what humans think?” I said.

D major laughed. “Can’t blame them. People in romantic relationships often hold hands like the two of you are doing now. Like I said, it’s what I would think if I didn’t know the full context of this situation."

“Anyway, do you want to join us? Take a break from your work?” I said.

D major glanced at the assignments she was grading. “You two go ahead. I’m busy and I gotta get work done. Take care of my parallel minor for me, okay?” She smiled at D minor, and I could almost hear the dissonance in the room. Parallel keys with their emotions influencing each other often raised the tension in the room, similar to pairs of keys whose tonics formed a tritone. I thought back to my assignment with B minor and how it had taken immense effort from the two of us to work together. C major wanted to test how well tritone keys could work together in the event that our normal groups were scattered and the only pairings available were tritones. He felt that the two of us had the best chance of succeeding on the first try, thus giving hope to everyone else and inspiring them to work together in the future. Working in pairs as the minimum was a rule we all followed just in case we ever got into a situation, in which case we had better chances of winning or surviving long enough to call for backup. 

D minor and I walked out. The golden light of the setting sun shone on her face and a few strands of her hair flew in the gentle breeze. I was waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent.

“Is there something you need to talk about?” I said, trying to start a conversation.

D minor glanced around before replying hesitantly. “Actually, yeah.” There was silence for a few seconds before she continued speaking. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Of course.” I slipped an arm around her shoulder and she leaned towards me, almost snuggling against my chest as we walked.

“I hate my life. I wish I didn’t revive after being knocked out in a fight. Sometimes, I even wish that...I could kill myself.” Her voice was soft.

It took me quite some time to find my voice. “Is this...a regular thing? Struggling alone, I mean?” I asked. 

“Yeah,” she mumbled. “Not that anyone cares. Except you, maybe. And D major.”

“I wish you had told me sooner.” 

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she said. 

“This isn’t bothering me.”

“I always had the impression everyone thought I was too gloomy and sad. I mean, think of those requiems, like the ones by Mozart and Franz von Suppe.”

“The saddest key, associated with death and depression? Not surprising. But maybe that’s why you’re so important in this battle. They keep targeting you, but really, you enable musicians to feel the other end of the emotional spectrum that people would rather ignore. But without sadness, anger, grief...you can’t really live.”

“I didn’t know you were so emotional,” D minor remarked. She seemed to have calmed down a little.

“Well, I’ve been attacked and knocked to the ground in many fights for being me, and sometimes I would wake up somewhere after a fight and wonder what was going on until you or one of the other keys showed up. And it affected me, knowing I was a target. So maybe that’s why I understand what you’re feeling.”

She nodded. “I remember finding you in an empty concert hall a few times, and you were rather disoriented. It was a shock to me to see you like that, since you’re usually the protective one, but I figured you had been in a bad fight. I never knew you were attacked like that, though.” After a pause, she added, “You’re quite sad for a major key.”

I held her slender hand, and for a moment, I imagined her sitting at a piano, playing the pieces of her favourite composers whom she’d worked with over the years. “Sometimes I think even the keys with more flats than the two of us are happier than us,” I said. We sat down on an empty bench, enjoying the last moments of daylight.

“I’m sorry,” I heard D minor say.

“For what?” I was confused.

“For sharing a key signature with you.”

I squeezed her hand affectionately. “Why are you sorry about that? I love being your relative major,” I replied sincerely. “We’ve always been F major and D minor.”

[mozart-and-mocha]

Minor key with one flat

It’s been ages, since I was cast into the world of existence. Once in a while, something would lift my mood, but not for long. 

Today, I was feeling empty. Like nothing mattered anymore. I thought about these high school kids, Rafaela and Dave, and how caring they seemed. But like everyone else, maybe it was fake. Or only temporary. Or maybe I was a burden, and they were being nice about it.

I took a deep breath and walked into my room. I looked down at myself: dark blue jeans and the t-shirt I wore to sleep last night. I considered texting F major and D major, but I didn’t want them to think that I was moping again and distracting them from their jobs. For what it’s worth, I myself had work to do. I forced myself to reply to emails and prepare for the next week's schedule, wishing that I could simply disappear without any consequences.

I took a quick shower before changing into a fresh pair of black pants, similar to the type concert musicians wore. I threw on a clean blouse and put on a white cardigan to feel warmer. For some reason, for the past few months I had been cold most of the time, even during the summer. I brushed my hair and washed my face, expecting to feel refreshed, but instead, I only felt numb.

I forced myself to walk out the door, with nothing but my phone and keys in hand. The last bits of golden evening sunlight shone on my face and I cherished the moment. Children were playing in the park nearby, cars were zooming past, and I thought, if I checked out now, everything would continue to be the same without me. C major would continue to protect us from the strange force atonality had become. Classical music was getting rarer and rarer, as were other forms of music. The government was cracking down on what they perceived to stir up emotions. What was part of daily life and harder to control, however, like playing at the playground or feeling the evening breeze, was left alone.

I sat down and stared at the clouds surrounding the sinking sun. The emptiness had changed and become something clawing at my chest, and I pulled out my phone and looked through my contacts. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Whatever was driving our existence, I was not in the least grateful for it. Even then, I felt like I owed someone an explanation. Who should I text? Among the keys closest to me harmonically, I narrowed down the choices. A major? I didn’t want to drag her down with this. A minor was having trouble of her own. F minor was probably busy with teaching music and sports. I wished I had my life together like F minor. She was one of the more powerful minor keys, and even just among the 24 of us, she was a force to be reckoned with. I fought down the pang of jealousy rising up. G minor, probably arguing and contradicting the plans C major came up with.

In the end, I decided to text my relative major. Cool, smart, handsome, strong, kind F major. If anyone was going to listen, it would be F major.

Hey, are you free to talk? I typed. Before I tapped the send button, I had second thoughts about reaching out and I decided that he was better off not dealing with me.

I sat there until the sky was no longer golden, but dark blue, almost black. A few teenagers walked past me, and one of them gave me a curious glance before going back to her animated conversation with her friends. A family with a young toddler who was trying to be stable while walking approached in the opposite direction, the child staring at me in wonder. Even as she walked past, the child turned her head to look back at me. I tried for a smile, hoping it didn't betray my true emotions.

When the last of the daylight had faded into darkness, I went home. 

My phone buzzed as I walked through the front door. It was my relative major, saying he wanted to check on me and he would arrive shortly.

After I read his message, I decided to save him from an eternity of dealing with me and my depression. 

I took one last look outside the window. I observed the darkened sky, the traffic speeding by, the wind ruffling the leaves, everything changed and yet stayed the same. I thought about how in a matter of weeks, that kid with her chemistry jokes and lively personality, Rafaela, had come into my life. And her friend Dave, who told me he loved me, always seemed to liven up the place with an air of mystery to him. I missed them, but I doubt they missed me. In any case, they would be better off without me.

As I was about to put my phone away, and shut myself off from the world, my phone buzzed again. Another text, but this time, it was from D major.

I hope you're ok, the message read. I haven't heard from you in a while.

There's a reason for that, I thought. As much as I tried to push the thought down, I wondered why people were reaching out to me. Did they really think I was worth their time and energy?

And then there was another message from F major. I didn't read it, but I imagined him asking if I was fine.

I’m fine, if you consider shutting myself off from the world and dying in the comfort of my own home fine. I’m not sick, I’m suicidal. But hopefully that will end soon.

D major sent me another message (were my closely related keys planning something?), but I didn’t bother reading it. 

I left my phone on the dining table and went into my room. I took out my favourite scarf, which I had received a few years ago for Christmas. It was pastel blue with white stripes on it. Even during that time, I was still in this perpetually low mood. Whoever had said things would get better had no idea what they were talking about.

All these decades starting from the Baroque era until now? I was done. It was time to sleep, but instead of going to sleep in my bed, I decided to sleep permanently in my scarf. 

I imagined myself sitting on the floor and leaning against my bed, unmoving. My head was supported by my scarf, which complimented my outfit and kept my neck warm. The blood was no longer reaching my brain, and my consciousness was fading. There was a surprisingly warm feeling spreading throughout my body, and finally, I was no longer sad. But I wasn't happy, either. I simply did not feel any emotion.

A noise from my door snapped me back to reality, an ugly one in which I was still standing, alive, and holding my scarf, instead of it supporting me from above my shoulders. And worst of all, I was no longer alone. My relative major was here.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

A few weeks after I ran into my synaesthetic imaginations of music keys, things started heating up. After school, I found Dave and myself ambushed by an immortal 14-year-old. Okay, not exactly immortal, but she has been around since the 1600s, so I’d say that counts.

The key of A major, in human form, in her bossy style, steered Dave and me to the shopping mall opposite our school. Near the entrance, a tall and gentle-looking androgynous person waited for us. I remembered my last conversation with F major, and the information I had Googled when I got home that F major had shared with me. Based on that, I figured that F major had been hinting to me that he was trans. F major had really changed since the first time I met him, when he still didn’t quite look like himself yet. He looked more confident, more comfortable with himself, more at ease.

F major smiled at me, then shifted his focus to Dave. “Hello, Dave. Are you the one who has taken a fancy to my relative minor?”

Dave blushed slightly, while A major rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what’s with you and her,” she sounded exasperated. Dave turned around. “Says the one who’s been harassing me many times,” he shot back.

F major held up a hand. “Enough,” he said. He didn’t sound angry, but his tone was one that made people listen. “Things have been getting rough, and we need to brief you two on what to do if something happens.” F major walked away and A major signalled us to follow him.

As we walked, I thought back to my very first conversation with F major, and how we had recognised each other. At that time, I had thought F major to be a sweet, gentle, and caring woman. But now, I realised that F major was a lot happier as he was now. I couldn’t say exactly how, but F major didn’t seem like he was putting up a front anymore. Meanwhile, Dave and A major were bickering behind me.

“I hope you haven’t been upsetting her too much,” I heard A major say.

“Please stop pestering me about it!” Dave yelled back.

“Maybe I’ll stop if I know for sure you aren’t overstepping your boundaries.”

“Oh, as if you know anything about respecting boundaries! Let me say, the number of times you’ve run into me in public is getting on my nerves, and I’d appreciate it if it was a different key.”

“Excuse me?”

Dave sighed. “Even as a child, I had favourite keys which I preferred over the others.”

“D minor,” A major said. “That’s very obvious, you know. Everyone knows about it.”

“Anyway, while the key of A major was cheery and playful, sometimes I just wasn’t in the mood for it. Not that it isn’t a nice key,” Dave added hastily. I wondered what expression A major had on her face right now. More sighing from behind me. 

“I see,” A major said in a low voice.

We ended up in a quiet alley of shops that few people patronised. Perfect for privacy. 

F major cleared his throat. “So, lately the government has been cracking down on art forms that trigger emotional responses in humans, with music being one of them. For a period of time, classical music went under the radar because it was deemed inaccessible and highly intellectual, and they assumed that not many people would get emotional responses from that. However, even that has changed. We are trying to fight back, and at the same time support classical musicians who can in turn influence their friends to avoid becoming this emotionally sterile society the government is aiming for. They believe that if emotions don’t get in the way, people will be more effective at their jobs, completing requests with minimal disruption.” He glanced at A major, who continued.

“What this means is that not only are we supporting and defending our allies, we are also fighting on the frontline. And that means that we are prone to getting injured or even knocked out in fights,” A major said.

“Basically, if we get hit on the head really hard or end up in a situation that might have killed a person, we suffer amnesia upon waking up and experience everything as if we are regular people, until something jogs our memory of what we really are. I’m sure a few of us have experienced that, coming to and not remembering anything until we were given a clue.” F major explained. “So even if we ‘died’, which we can’t really do, at least not in the sense like most people will, we’d still come back somewhere, just not in the situation that would have killed us.”

A major had been so quiet, I forgot she was there, which was unusual. She was normally noisy and bossy and excited. “Some of us have been knocked out pretty badly for whatever reason. Since we’re in human form, we are subject to everything that entails being human, like injuries, but especially emotion. Emotion, that’s why we were created.”

Dave snorted. "Since when does A major get so emotional?" he muttered under his breath. I jabbed him with my elbow. A major either didn't hear him, or she pretended not to.

“Is there…something that’s preventing you guys from dying, exactly?” I felt like a kid asking questions, even though I'm turning 18 in December. “I’d assume that, you know, dying is one of the things that is part of being human.”

“Not really, but we are sustained by the thoughts of synaesthetic musicians who perceive music keys to have distinct personalities. Which is why the more common keys appear to be more fleshed out, and also stronger when it comes to fighting the special kind of atonality imposed by the government in this new world,” F major explained. “It’s why even we find it hard to keep track of keys like E-flat minor or D-flat major. They…tend to have less of a presence. But they’re definitely around. As long as musicians with that specific type of synaesthesia exist, so will we. Essentially, we began to exist ever since the different tuning systems and unequal temperament back in the days of the Baroque era led to associations of different moods and emotions with the music keys.”

“Crazy,” I muttered. “Some of my friends are sustained by my thoughts of them. Thanks to how my brain is wired.”

A major laughed. “We’ve been around a lot longer than you have, you know,” she reminded me. “And people have been arguing about our different emotional characteristics for centuries.”

“So is there a reason we need to know this?” Dave asked. 

F major had an unreadable expression. “Yes. We’re telling you, and other synaesthetic musicians this so we can help each other. For example, if A major here was injured and woke up somewhere, her closer keys such as A minor or E major will try to find her and remind her what happened, to jog her memory. And you can help in a similar way, since you know what’s going on. It’s something we experience. I’ve woken up in strange places and wondered what was going on until F minor or C major or A-flat major appeared and explained what happened.”

“This sounds very complicated,” I complained.

F major smiled at me, and I love when he does that. “The nature of this whole situation is messy,” he agreed. “But remember, we’ll be there to support you as well. As you know, groups of us are stationed around places where synaesthetic musicians are likely to be around, such as an arts school or a performing arts centre or a music library.”

"Quick question," Dave interrupted. "Not that I expect you to know, but any chance you know where F-sharp major is?"

F major looked surprised. "Might be better to ask C major or A minor about that. Are you in contact with F-sharp major?"

Dave shrugged. "I ran into her a couple of times. Once as a kid, and once a few weeks ago. Of course, the first time I didn't know it, but the second time, it jogged my memory. Also, how do I get in contact with those two no-flats no-sharps keys?"

A major danced around Dave and waved her hand in front of his face. “Did someone forget his music theory? I can ask A minor directly.”

“Oh, right. Thanks. Can we go now?” Dave sounded just a little like a kid who was impatient to leave.

F major smiled at us. “Of course.”

Dave and I started to walk towards the train station. "See you both next time, I guess," he called back.

I turned around and waved at the man and the girl smiling at us. "Until next time, which probably won't be long."

[mozart-and-mocha]

Major key with 1 flat

A few days after I met Rafaela for the first time, many weeks ago, I started changing. My voice got deeper, going from an alto to a tenor, my muscle mass increased, and I was stronger and faster. When I played sports with my parallel minor, the sporty and usually energetic F minor, I gradually came on par with her. After a few weeks in, I decided to tell her once and for all. She wasn’t surprised in the least. Maybe the changes were faster and more obvious than I realised. The good thing was, I was beginning to feel more like myself with each passing week.

Today, I decided to meet up with her and A-flat major, just to talk and relax. Somehow I found being around F minor therapeutic. It was a change from being with the sad and dark D minor, even though I love her. But hanging out with F minor, well, she charged my energy. We are parallel keys, after all. And I enjoy being with A-flat major, too.

We agreed to meet in a lounge room at a community centre where F minor coached badminton and swimming. The floor was carpeted, the chairs were cushioned, and there was a rug to lie down on next to cushions and stuffed toys. On top of a small bookshelf was a boiling kettle, six ceramic mugs, six teaspoons, and a box’s worth of tea bags, coffee packets, powdered milk, and some sugar. There was also a table that could seat up to 8 people, surrounded by office chairs.

When I arrived, the lights in the room were already on. I pushed open the door and saw the athletic F minor sitting on a cushioned chair by the rug, next to the bookshelf. She was reading, but when she heard the creak of the door, she looked up and smiled at me. “Hi,” I greeted her warmly. “Thanks for booking this room on a Sunday. I love this place.”

“I know, right? It’s where I go sometimes after a swimming or badminton class.” F minor adjusted her position, and her hair flowed along with her movements. She’s a tall Russian beauty, and a talented one at that. Not only is she a sports teacher, she teaches the violin and piano too, together with tutoring music theory classes. I wondered what it was like when it came to explaining herself when teaching key signatures.

“So, did you tell anyone else yet?” F minor asked me. It took me a while to realise she was talking about my transition. “Um, I told my relative minor. And I think Rafaela, who’s in one of D major’s math classes, knows. Either that, or she suspects something. I couldn’t bring myself to say it outright to her, but I dropped hints hoping she’d take them.” I settled down on the rug and leaned on a cushion.

F minor sat down next to me. “It’s okay, I understand it can be scary,” she said. “If anyone gives you grief for that, let me know. I’ll fight them. And A-flat major will gladly talk to you and comfort you.”

“Speaking of A-flat major...” Before I could finish, the door swung open. A-flat major was there, a kind smile on her face. She appears to be in her 50s, and many children gravitate to her because she is like the grandmother many of them didn’t have, without her being old enough to be seen as a grandparent. Maybe more of a mentor.

“Hello, dears,” she said, coming in and settling down on the chair F minor was in when I came in. “Good to see you again, F major. And F minor, thanks for arranging a time for us to catch up with one another. We can go for lunch soon and I’ll treat you both.” I tried to protest, but A-flat major did not listen to me. She really is that kind. “Please, if you insist on treating someone for lunch, let it be F minor. After all, you two share a key signature,” I argued. “Plus...”

“Nah, that’s not happening,” A-flat major insisted. “You’re pretty close to me yourself, you know? We’re both linked to F minor.” I looked at my parallel minor, who had an amused look, as if seeing her relative and parallel keys gently bicker about lunch brought her joy.

“Anyway, that’s settled. So, update me. How’s it been going with your own relative minor, F major?” A-flat major inquired. I noticed she and F minor exchanging a smile. I wished I could have that bond with D minor, but sometimes I felt as if she was afraid of me. Okay, maybe not afraid. But I could tell there was something that bothered her and she didn’t talk to me about it. Had it been these two in the room with me, they’d have talked it out and tried to deal with the problem.

“It’s, uh, pretty okay, I guess,” I replied hesitantly. “I’m trying to reach out to her, because you know, the whole saddest key thing and all, but there’s something she’s hiding from me. I already know she has some kind of depression that’s hurting her, but she just won’t open up to me about it. How am I supposed to help her?” My voice had taken on a pleading tone.

F minor stroked my shoulder. “Honestly, F major, I’m sure she knows you care about her, and it’s not just because you two are relative keys. Anyone can see that you truly are devoted to the people in your life.”

“F minor is right,” A-flat major interjected. “Don’t beat yourself up, Fa Maggiore.” At the sound of my name in Italian, I felt a loving kind of warmth go through me. The love of family. I basked in that feeling, allowing myself only a few seconds of that pleasure, before I braced myself to speak. Before I could utter a sound, however, A-flat major started speaking. “You know I’d talk to D minor myself, but since our tonics form a tritone, the tension might make it worse, and instead of me helping her feel better, she might feel even more isolated because she might think nobody can connect with her. And if either you or F minor are with me when we talk to her, our tonics will form a diminished triad. But there’s always a solution, such as other keys, like the subdominant and dominant keys, if you really need them. And I think F minor would gladly help you out too.” 

F minor nodded. “Yeah, I’d love to. She hung out with me once in the past few weeks, with D major and E major. Of course, being D minor, she just sat by the side, like she didn’t want to join in. We played frisbee, and then D major took a nap right in the sun after that. I put some leaves in her hair, and when she woke up, she started yelling at me, but not in a serious way. And I think that time cheered D minor up somewhat. So it’s possible. You just have to figure out how to get her to agree to come in the first place, which isn’t easy because depression can and does isolate its victims.” F minor was so determined, it was hard to feel hopeless. She is just that powerful.

“Enough about me, and well, her. How are you doing, the two of you? Or rather, A-flat major, since I roughly know what my parallel minor has been up to lately.” I looked at A-flat major and F minor, and they were so content with each other’s company, it made me feel sorry for D minor. I doubted she was this close to D major, and if my suspicion was right, she was a really lonely character. Meanwhile, F minor moved even closer to me, as if she could sense my thoughts and wanted to comfort me. It wasn’t that obvious to most people who passed her by, but F minor did have a heart of gold beneath all those muscles and strong vibes she exuded.

“Hmm...I’m doing well, thank you. I’ve been in touch with G-sharp minor recently, and we’re planning to meet together with C major and A minor in a few days, if possible. We’re trying to protect the musical emotions that a few people in this society can still experience. The numbers might be decreasing because of the government’s crackdown on the arts and emotion in general, but if we work together with synaesthetic musicians, we can help one another to survive.” A-flat major looked slightly pained as she talked. I understood that. This whole mess was not easy for any of us, especially for the less common key signatures, like A-flat major and G-sharp minor. I glanced at F minor to see how she reacted to her relative major’s struggles, and F minor looked furious. Not with A-flat major, of course, but with the force that was burdening her. F minor looked ready for a fight, and I had no doubt she would gladly fight whoever hurt her loved ones. It was at times like this, it’s when I thought about how F minor and A-flat major are one of the rare pairs of relative keys where the minor key is energetic and lively while the major key is demure in comparison, maybe even a little sad. 

“The issue is, I’m not that worried about myself. It’s G-sharp minor I’m concerned for, since she’s a less common key than me. Liszt, Chopin, and Schubert knew me pretty well, but I can’t say the same for G-sharp minor. At least, not that I know of.” Now A-flat major was starting to sound a little like a grandmother concerned about her husband while reminiscing on her younger days, except that she and G-sharp minor aren’t married. But to be fair, all 24 of us keys were prone to the reminiscing of our earlier days, not just A-flat major. After all, we’ve been around for a long time.

A-flat major continued, jolting me from my thoughts. “By the way, F minor, I appreciate that you would fight for me and G-sharp minor, but I would rather you didn’t. You do have a temper, and the last time that happened...”

A-flat major must have sensed F minor’s thoughts. I smiled to myself; I could imagine a furious F minor charging at an assailant who had the misfortune of mistaking her and her friends for an easy target. “Yeah, I know,” F minor grumbled. “But I want to protect you. And you as well,” she added, looking at me. A-flat major grinned. “I know, but you do need to control that temper of yours, fiery F minor,” I replied. A-flat major and I shared that kind of smile where the people involved are happy to be together. We often did that when we were both around F minor and had to calm her down.

Footsteps and voices walked past the room. “I think we should get going,” F minor seized the opportunity to change the subject. She hated it whenever people tried to get her to calm down, but given her character, it was necessary, even when confronting evil. As A-flat major had once said, F minor was a raging fire just waiting to consume the world. She was a fighter, an angel of justice. “Time’s almost up, and I’m hungry. Ready for lunch, you two?” She stood up and took a long stride towards the door, her calf muscles bulging as she moved.

“Of course I am,” A-flat major replied, looking at me. “And don’t worry, I’m paying for your lunch.” At that moment, I wished A-flat major and I were regular humans, and that she was my grandmother, or even my aunt. A-flat major would really make a good grandma or aunt, or maybe even mother. I went for grandmother and aunt in this scenario I dreamt up. It’s sad to say, but I didn’t trust a mother to treat me as kindly as A-flat major did. Assuming that we still maintained our personalities and non-musical identities, I imagined coming out to her as her grandson or nephew. F minor could be my best friend, or even a cousin or a sister. If she was my cousin, would she be A-flat major’s kid or grandkid like me, but from different parents? And what about D minor? How would she fit into this hypothetical family? Would she be a cousin who’s an only child? 

I didn’t realise I was lost in thought until I stumbled out the door and tripped. Before I could fall over, F minor gripped me tight. “Whoa, what happened?” F minor asked. “You looked really spaced out there, Fa Maggiore,” A-flat major said kindly. “You okay?”

I nodded. “I’m fine, thanks. Didn’t realise I was on autopilot until I tripped.” I tried to smile at them, but I guessed I didn’t, because they looked worried. “Don’t worry, okay? I’m sure you’ll manage to talk to D minor eventually,” A-flat major’s soothing voiced flowed into my ears. “And if you need help, F minor and I are here. Of course, with your relative minor things can get messy, but like I said, we’ll find a way to work things out.”

I forced myself to smile and nod, because I wanted them to stop worrying about me and my problems. There were just some things I had to handle myself. But for now, I allowed myself to enjoy spending time with F minor and A-flat major. With them around, what could go wrong that couldn’t eventually be fixed?

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

Dave and I were at the park near our school on Saturday morning. Last night, after we had both gone home, he texted me and asked if I was free to meet with him and A major. Apparently, she was going to explain to us the mess we found ourselves in.

We sat on a bench, looking around. Across the path from where we sat, there was a bridge that crossed over a river. Behind us, vehicles roared by on the main road. “Are you sure she said she’d meet us here?” I asked Dave. We had been here for nearly 20 minutes, and there was no sign of A major. A talkative, playful, bossy teenager.

“Well, that’s what she said. But we can go back to the entrance of the train station to look for her if you want,” Dave replied. I stood up. “Ok, I’ll do that. I hate sitting around doing nothing.” My ADHD made it hard for me to sit still, and I had already done enough of that just waiting for A major.

When we got to the entrance, there was still no sign of her. “Wow, maybe the train broke down again,” Dave commented. We rode the escalator down to where the gantry was and decided to wait by the convenience store. As we stood outside, trying not to seem suspicious, Dave whispered to me. “Raf, look over there.”

I looked at the direction he nodded, towards the subway map. There she was. But A major wasn’t alone. She was talking to a woman who looked somewhat like her, but an older and more serious version of her. The woman was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, a grey cardigan over it, and a pencil skirt. Her face, although pretty, had worry lines around the eyes. Smooth pale skin, red lipstick, eyes with a wary look in them. She looked exasperated, though she appeared to be trying to hold it together. She was also taller than A major. Meanwhile, A major was sulking, looking even more like a bratty teenager than she already did. A major wore skinny jeans and a t-shirt with her key signature and tonic on it, and she had a jacket wrapped around her waist. I figured that maybe A major didn’t want us to eavesdrop on her argument with the older lady, so I motioned for Dave to feign interest in the snacks near the entrance of the store.

After a few minutes, I glanced in their direction. A major was slowly walking towards the convenience store, but she was looking in the direction of the gantry where the older woman went. Dave touched her arm and she yelped in surprise, turning to face him. “You okay?” Dave asked gently. “You looked like you were having a fight with your mother.” A major rolled her eyes, but she didn’t reply. “Maybe we should walk along the river in the park just next to here,” I suggested. “It will give you time to cool down, and then you can tell us whatever it is you summoned us here for.” I looked at A major, and she nodded slightly. “Yeah, sounds great.”

I wondered what had happened just now. Why was A major so sullen today? It didn’t seem like her at all. But then, I figured nobody would be in a good mood after having an argument with their mother in public. As we walked along the river path, avoiding cyclists and rollerbladers, A major seemed to lighten up. Her shoulders loosened, and the spring gradually returned to her step.

Soon, we were back at the bench Dave and I were sitting at half an hour ago. “Okay, now I’m ready to explain this whole synesthetic thing. But first, let’s get something out of the way. That was NOT my mother I was arguing with at the station.” 

I glanced at Dave to see his expression. He saw me looking at him and he shrugged. “Not your mother?” I inquired. I felt like I should know what A major was talking about, considering the time we had spent together in the previous weeks. “Don’t worry, we understand. I’ve had my fair share of arguments with my own mother when I was your age. Uh, I mean, your perceived age. You know what I mean,” I continued.

A major sighed a very dramatic sigh I would normally associate with minor keys, but then it wasn’t like major keys had nothing in common with their relative or parallel minors. “You say you understand, but you don’t,” she said. 

“Okay, so stop beating around the bush,” I snapped back, annoyed. I felt a nudge on my right elbow and glanced at Dave, who shook his head silently. Whoops. 

“Fine. When I said that wasn’t my mother I was arguing with, I meant it. That was A minor. You know, my parallel minor.” A major looked at the two of us. “I’m surprised you didn’t make the connection, especially as you’re talking to me, the personification of A major.”

“No wonder she looks a lot like you,” Dave commented. “Is it normal for keys to bear similar physical features to their parallel keys?”

I looked at Dave in surprise. “Dave, wh-” I got cut off by A major. “It’s fine. Musicians often get curious when they see a parallel major and minor key together in public. Anyway, it’s complicated. You could say we do look similar, but it’s not because we share genes or anything. It’s like having doppelgängers. A stranger looks very much like you but you’re not related to them. It’s something like that for us, except that A minor and I are parallel keys. If you consider G major and G minor, you’ll find that they don’t quite look similar, despite sharing a tonic.”

“Uh, yeah, thanks. I was kinda curious about that myself. Anyway, so, what is it you wanted to talk to us about?” I was anxious to know what A major had to say that got me out of bed on a Saturday morning when I could have slept in.

A major took a deep breath. “So you know there’s us, the personified keys. In recent years, the government has started cracking down on different art forms, and that includes music. However, because classical music is considered somewhat inaccessible, we’ve been lucky so far. But that’s slowly changing. We personified keys embody different emotional characteristics, and part of that is to help musicians and well, society, in general, to experience the full range of human emotion. But lately, the government has been cracking on the types of music allowed, and they’re using a specific kind of atonal music to drown out emotion and create an emotionally sterile society. And since atonal music is often notated with no key signature, C major and A minor whose key signature has no flats and no sharps are in the best position to combat that. And since A minor and I are parallel keys, that’s why we were, ah, talking about it just now before I met up with you guys.”

I stayed silent, trying to take it all in. “So that’s why A minor looked rather stressed,” Dave noted. A major nodded. “It does take a toll on us. But since A minor is a rather common key signature, she’s doing fine.”

This sounded familiar, as if another key had explained this to me before. The setting where that conversation had taken place was familiar too. It was a while before I remembered it was F minor who had explained this to me, but somehow I managed to forget that until this conversation with A major jogged my memory. F minor. She had been my swimming coach when I was younger, and when she revealed herself to me years later, I wasn’t surprised. F minor is athletic, strong, light on her feet, and resilient, traits I remembered associating with my coach.

“Rafaela?” A major’s voiced jolted me from my thoughts. “Is everything okay?”

I looked at A major and smiled at her. “Yeah, I’m good, thanks. I just remembered that F minor had talked to me about this before.” “Wha-?” Dave exclaimed in surprise before getting interrupted. “I know about that,” said A major. “We keep one another updated on who has met who and has had the necessary conversation. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that whenever possible, C major and A minor send us keys out in groups, preferably groups of three. And they try to group the keys according to our tonics so that our tonics will form a nice triad. Like D minor, F major, and me. Together we form a D minor triad.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out when D major gave me a ride to the train station nearest my home some days ago,” I replied. Dave looked even more surprised. “What?” he exclaimed.

“Dave, I don’t know if you’re aware, but apparently D major is my math teacher. Maybe that’s why D minor, F major, and A major are often seen near our school.” I looked at A major for confirmation.

“You’re right. Generally, like I said, we try to send keys that are related to one another, which means that we rarely send out tritone pairs or diminished triads,” she clarified. “The tension between tritones and the harmony between diminished triads may not work as well.”

“I see.” Dave looked thoughtful, as if he was trying to come up with ideas. “So does the tonality of the keys in a group matter? Like when Raf mentioned how D minor, F major, and you are often grouped together? Would it make a difference if it were F minor instead, or A minor instead of you?”

“Good question,” A major seemed slightly confused. “Tonality doesn’t matter as much as the tonics do, but it’s preferable for the tonality of the root key to match with the triad. The triad near your school is a D minor triad, and the root key is D minor. Also, part of the reason F major is in my group rather than F minor is because F minor is grouped with another set of keys. But whether or not it forms an F minor triad or some other triad, I’m not sure. You’d have to ask C major. He’s in charge of assigning groups.”

“Makes sense,” Dave murmured. I glanced at my watch, and it was nearly noon. “Uh, Raf, do you need to go?,” Dave asked, having noticed me checking the time. “I mean, I have homework. We’re in the international baccalaureate program, how do we not have work to do?” I answered as I stood up. “Sorry,” I added apologetically, looking at A major. She was smiling. “It’s okay, I understand. Oh, and one last thing. I’ve noticed how the two of you act when you’re near D minor, and why that is, I have no idea. But please respect her boundaries, and take care of her if she needs it. She’s had a rather rough time ever since the Baroque era, and I think she’d appreciate the care. Treat her like you would any other friend, but just be cautious. Depression is one heck of a nuisance, and you don’t want to make her feel like she’s dragging you down. I mean, you don’t feel that way when you listen to pieces in D minor, right?”

“I feel either really sorry for her or sad, or angry when I do. Maybe furious. That one aria from Don Giovanni sounds like she’s just snapped,” I said. “You know, the one where the statue of the guy Don Giovanni killed early on in the opera arrives for dinner and drags him to hell.” I noticed Dave shuddering at my words. “Must be awful to be so filled with sadness and rage at the pain you’ve experienced for not just a lifetime but for a few centuries,” Dave said, in a voice that sounded especially thick.

A major rolled her eyes, not for the first time that day. “There you go again,” she sighed. “What?” Dave demanded. 

“Never mind. Just promise me you’ll take care of her, okay? I’m her dominant major and this is partially how I look out for her. See you around, kiddos,” A major said, as she walked away, turning back to wave at us.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Minor key with 1 flat

It had been pouring last night, and this morning I saw the rays of sunlight filtering through the bathroom window. As beautiful as the morning was, it didn’t change the fact that I felt dead inside. 

I tried to get up but the blanket did not move smoothly with me. I looked down and saw that part of it was trapped beneath a sleeping form. Then I remembered. Last night my relative major swung by and ended up spending the night with me because I’d begged him to. I didn’t know why, but I felt comforted with F major around. 

I tried to think. He came over and tried to get me to have dinner, but instead we ended up watching TV while we sat on the couch. I remembered leaning into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and enjoying his body warmth. 

I tried moving again, and this time I felt movement from the other side of the bed. F major sat up, blinking sleepily. “You okay?” he asked, in that deep voice some people get when they’ve just woken up.

I wanted to sink back into the sheets, into him, when I heard his voice. I didn’t want to say it, but I didn’t feel good. I felt like dying, and I didn’t want him to worry. 400 years of betrayal and abandonment, and somehow I was still here. He already had enough to worry about, such as the whole atonality mess we were somehow involved in. Plus, classical musicians and synaesthetes needed us. Instead, I forced myself to answer as I proceeded to wash my face.

As I dried my face and glanced in the mirror, F major came in behind me, holding something in his hands. “This is awkward,” I began, looking at his tall frame. “Uh, not really,” he replied. “You’re my relative minor. Make sure you eat something, okay? You look pretty dead.”

That’s because I am, I thought to myself. I looked longingly at the belt draped over a chair in the bedroom as I passed, before forcing myself to think about something else. I couldn’t do this to him.

Instead of heading for the kitchen, I headed straight for the couch where the two of us one-flat keys had been last night. A few minutes later, F major emerged from my room, wearing a black t-shirt with our key signature on it. A treble clef, one flat on the middle line, and on his shirt, a crotchet that was the note F. His tonic. That was how he differentiated himself from me, the sad, brooding relative minor. I caught myself staring and felt heat rising to my face as I looked away. 

“Wow, good thing I stayed over,” he commented, as he took out a plate and made some toast. “I doubt you’ve eaten something since you woke up.”

“Sorry,” I muttered. “I just feel dead today, I guess. I’ll do something about that once you leave, I promise.” I really meant it, that the moment F major left and did whatever it was that he needed to do, I would take care of myself.

Instead of nodding and accepting my response, F major walked over to me, with the two slices of toast on the plate. He sank down beside me and put the plate on my lap. “Uh, don’t you-” I began, before I got interrupted. My face felt hot again.

“I need to tell you something,” F major began. Instantly I was aware of my pulse. Instinctively I leaned on his shoulder, and I felt the tension leave him. Almost as if I were listening to a piece in F major that had temporarily modulated away from the home key and was now resolving back into the key of F. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but...” his voice trailed off, and I realised that he was nervous. But why? “Anyway, I’m, uh, transitioning.” F major looked at me for reassurance. 

“Transitioning...like what? Transitioning means a lot of things, and right now, it seems like we as a whole are transitioning into a different musical era where this time, the government is suppressing music and other art forms as well.” 

F major sighed, not in an angry way, but almost in relief. “You know how F-sharp major sometimes switches to G-flat major? It’s something like that, except that I’m still F major. F-sharp major is feminine, G-flat major is neutral, and yet they’re still the same key. Enharmonically, anyway. So uh...I’m a guy, but still F major. Not switching into something like E-sharp major...” F major laughed a little, and so did I.

“So this is basically an extension of what you told me before,” I guessed. Decades ago, F major had finally gotten tired of everyone assuming he was a woman because he was androgynous and not very macho, as he himself put it. He told me and everyone else how he really felt, and everyone hopped on board. However, musicians often got confused when they saw F major, and they often assumed that F major was an androgynous woman.

“I’m on what they call testosterone. Makes me more like one of the guys, like, um...G minor or C minor. Even before I started, I was always a guy, but androgynous. You know that. But like I said, I’ll still be me. Good thing I’ve always been tall, so height isn’t a problem for me, unlike many other trans guys, like the doctor commented.” F major seemed more relaxed and at ease.

“Anything else you need to tell me?” I asked.

“That’s the physical side of things. But now that I’m more myself than I was, I think I’d like to be seen the way I truly am now. Just regular F major, but a guy. He and him, in English. You know, all that stuff, Ré mineur,” F major smiled at me, and at the sound of my French name, I relaxed and sank deeper into him. Was I imagining it, or was there a special kind of tenderness when he said Ré mineur?

“You’re taking this really well,” F major commented, as he ran his hand through my hair. 

I looked up at him. “Like you said, I already know. And also, lately I’ve noticed you’ve gotten stronger and your voice deeper.” The radiant smile that came from F major’s face almost made me feel alive again.

“So just now, when you came in behind me in the bathroom, I noticed that you were holding something, and that you took quite a while to come out. Was that...” My voice trailed off, waiting for him to confirm the answer. “Yeah, you’re right, it was the thing that apparently makes human guys have those characteristics. I started injecting it weeks ago, maybe even months. With the help of a doctor, obviously. And since we’re personified...” He looked at me. Suddenly the atmosphere seemed to have darkened.

“Wait...you still haven’t had breakfast,” F major said, concerned. I sat up and leaned away, hiding my face from him. “No, it isn’t that at all...” I heard myself starting to whisper. I didn’t want to say that the moment F major reminded me we’re the personified music keys, it struck me just how bad everything was getting. Betrayed, abandoned, desolate, despondent since the Baroque era, I was surprised I was still around in my personified form. Obviously my sonic form, the sounds everyone heard in music written in D minor, would remain, but that didn’t require the personified me to stick around.

“Maybe I should’ve gotten a croissant or a brioche,” F major said, trying to lighten the mood. He tried to look at me, but I kept my face hidden, blinking furiously. When he saw that his attempt failed, he got up and knelt down in front me. Rats, he would realise just how much I was bottling up and keeping hidden from him. He felt safe enough to tell me about the changes in his life and I had listened, so why didn’t I feel like he would’ve have gladly done the same for me?

“Ré mineur,” he said gently, knowing that was the best way to get me to release my emotions. He reached out and I felt a warm hand cup the side of my face, forcing my head to turn. A couple of fingers warmed my neck. I didn’t realise just how warm and comforting F major truly was, even when he himself had a lot going on for him, and not all of it was positive. As I looked at him, I had a brief thought of something on my neck just like now, but this time it was strangling me, and I felt comforted even though it was painful. The sensation of someone sitting down next to me jolted me from my death fantasy, and I felt myself pulled into F major, temporarily lighting up the darkness inside my mind. I wondered if this was how people felt when they listened to a piece with F major as the home key and he modulated into me due to us sharing the same key signature.

I leaned forward into him, so that my face was buried in his shoulder, and I felt that warm embrace for a few seconds before pulling away. My face had streaks of a cooling sensation, and everything, even his face, looked blurry. I got up and went to my room, and he followed me.

“I’m sorry,” I managed, after struggling to find my voice. “I...I need to be alone now.” I hurried away from him, but he continued to follow me. 

“Are you sure?” F major sounded very concerned. “Given how you reacted when I called your name just now...” He didn’t finish his sentence.

[mozart-and-mocha]

tritone trouble

this was inspired by @orangepenguin82 who sent me an ask, sorry it took me two years to write this 

This was a side mission, distinct from my usual tasks of hanging out near schools and looking for synesthetic musicians. C major, who is considered the boss, assigned me and B minor to create a plan for gathering synesthetic students together. And although I try to be positive about everything, I was not really looking forward to this project.

Why, you ask?

I’m F major, meaning my tonic is F. Obviously. And the tonic of B minor is, well, B. F and B, we form a tritone. And historically, the tritone was considered the devil’s interval. The moment I had my assignment explained to me, I felt the tension I knew would come whenever I was in the same room with either B major or B minor. The thing is, I don’t like or dislike either of them. I would rather work with a key that is related to me, like C major himself, B-flat major, or D minor (though working with your sad relative minor is often harder than it seems).

The reason C major had assigned B minor and me to work together was, as he told us, because he wanted to see how keys that formed tritones with their tonics would react in more desperate situations. My situation, C major had explained, was a test run. Nothing dangerous, but if we could pull it off, there might be a chance when another tritone pair, like A major and E-flat major, could work together. In all honesty, I couldn’t see that happening. A major could be rather playful and capricious, often getting distracted from the task at hand, while E-flat major was a more serious guy. Maybe a different pairing, like F-sharp major/minor and C major himself, might work.

I walked out of the room where I had been given my assignment and started thinking. How exactly was I supposed to walk into an educational institution, figure out who the synesthetic musicians were, and get them to follow me to a quiet corner, especially with a key whose tonic with which your own tonic forms a tritone?

I got in my car and sat for a while, lost in thought. A rapping on my window jolted me out of my thoughts. Even before looking up, I knew who it was. That familiar tension tugged at my gut, letting me know that it was a key whose tonic is B. And B major was unlikely to be out and about in the afternoon. Everyone knew he had a different internal clock from everyone else, and it was just the way he worked. And also, I suspected it had to do with my temporary project. I looked up to see B minor looking at me, a little anxiously.

“F major?” he said nervously. With the look on his face, I guessed he probably felt the tension I was feeling. The aim of this is to work together despite this uncomfortable tension, or maybe because of it, I told myself. I rolled down the window. “Get in,” I said. “We’re going to have to learn to work together.” I gestured to the passenger seat. 

B minor awkwardly shuffled his way around the engine of my car before making it to the passenger seat. He slid in, shut the door, and buckled the seat belt without looking at me. I didn’t blame him. If the situation were reversed, I’d have done the same, too.

“Looks like we both know why we’re here. In the same place, I mean,” I quipped. B minor nodded. “Yeah. Where are we going?” he asked, not quite sure where to look. “Somewhere not too busy,” I replied. “We do not want non-synesthetic musicians overhearing us and panicking because they think they’re hearing things. Meaning us.”

“There’s a café near that school that’s next to a train station and a few shopping malls. It’s usually empty at this time, since people are at work and the kids are still in school,” B minor suggested.

“Mhmm,” I nodded, and revved the engine of my car. In less than 15 minutes, we were seated at the café, having ordered a latte and a slice of cheesecake since we didn’t want to look bad.

“So, you know the plan, right? We’re supposed to look for synesthetic music students and get them interested in us. Wait, that sounds wrong,” I looked around, but there were only two other people in the café, and they both had headphones on while eating.

My choice of words seemed to loosen the tension between us. B minor stretched a little. “Yeah, that’s what C major told me. The thing is, how are we going to get into a school?"

I raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you don’t know that your relative major is a math teacher at a school where they have a decent music program. It’s the school I sometimes hang out at. C major didn’t say we can’t have help, he only said we have to learn to work together.”

B minor stared at me. “Wait, what?! I mean, about D major.”

I sighed, feeling frustration rumble in me, before realising it heightened the suspense in the air that hung between me and B minor. Watch it, I warned myself.

“I said, D major is a math teacher at the school I sometimes hang out at. And sometimes she’s in charge of music classes for the younger kids as well.”

“I know that, it’s just...you and D major aren’t that close in terms of key relations,” he said. “What I meant is that I’m surprised you know D major that well.”

“Dude...” I was about to retort when B minor looked away from me, a look that almost looked dreamy coming into his eyes. “She’s an overachiever,” he commented, his voice thick.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, well, she’s been juggling being both a music teacher and a math teacher. Though her main job is the math part, so that she doesn’t raise suspicion.”

“Wait, how do you know this? I mean, I’m the one who shares a key signature with her!” 

I took a deep breath. This was not going well, but then, it could’ve been worse. “Just so you know, D major and I do have something in common. Her parallel minor-”

“I know that! As if we still don’t know which keys are related to which keys after centuries of the existence of the circle of fifths,” B minor grumbled.

“My point is, I know D major better than you realize. And...we actually need to start thinking of our project. Don’t you think it’s kinda pathetic we spent the past few minutes talking about her when she’s not even involved?”

B minor looked at me, and I felt the suspense relax briefly. “So we’re going to ask her for help?”

“If we really need it, then yeah. Remember, her tonic, together with ours, will create a diminished chord. Might not be so good for everyone involved,” I replied.

He laughed, but not in a happy way. “C major sure knows how to test if keys that form tritones can truly work together. He should’ve picked A major and E-flat minor to do this instead of us.”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “Funny, I was thinking about that before you showed up next to my car, but with E-flat major instead of E-flat minor. I don’t think that would go down well, to be honest.”

B minor was starting to relax, furthering easing the natural tension between us. “How about G major and C-sharp minor? The loyal but naive one and the mysterious one who can be a little cruel. Or B-flat minor and E minor? The one with hidden angsty feelings and the one who plays up the tiniest scratch. Or...” We both burst out laughing, before shushing ourselves. 

“You know,” I said, “maybe C major really knows what he’s doing. He figured he needed to experiment to see if keys that form tritones with one another can work together, and we have one of the better chances of succeeding.”

“I think we just completed phase 1 of the assignment. Working past the tension, even if it’s in a quiet café, with almost no one to hold us back,” B minor said.

“You’re right. Time for phase 2.” I glanced around. “If we’re both ready, let’s leave and get on with the next part of our assignment.”

[mozart-and-mocha]

Major key with 1 flat

I ran into Rafaela again, this time outside a café near her school. Or rather, she ran into me. If I’m being honest, I didn’t really notice her in the crowd. But since we were in the same place, we might as well sit down for coffee.

“So, uh, what do I call you in public? It’s not like I can shout ‘F major’ outside of a musical context. I really don’t need people thinking I’m crazy,” she explained. This kid did have a point. I thought for a moment. “Okay, there’s no easy way out of this. Unlike my relative minor and her parallel major, I do not have a name that could pass for normal, by your standards.” I winked at her. “You don’t have to call me by name in public. As long as I know you’re talking to me, that should be fine.”

“Okay,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I stumbled upon this series on the internet personifying you and the 23 other keys. I listened to some of it with Dave. So how it works is that there are 24 episodes, one for each key. Each episode is about 4-5 minutes long, and it tells a story using classical music written in that key. There’s a bit of pop music too, but only in 3 episodes.”

How had I not known about this before? At least it showed that humans have been personifying us for ages. 

“Interesting.” I paused for a moment, wondering if I should ask her if she had listened to the episode describing me. Then I decided against it. I wasn’t so sure I really wanted to hear conflicting aspects of my character, which there were bound to be. “So which did you listen to?”

“Dave was the one who introduced it to me. We listened to the D minor and A major episodes together, at least that I can remember, since those were the keys that the two of us had met.” Rafaela hesitated. “Dave might have listened to other episodes on his own. And in case you’re wondering, I listened to the F major episode. At home, without Dave. I don’t think you’ve met him.”

I was curious to know how I was described in the episode about me. But first, I wanted to be sure who Dave was. “Is he the one who confessed to my relative minor?” I asked.

A look of horror crossed Rafaela’s face. “Oh no. How did you-” her voice trailed off as she understood. “Re would’ve told you, right? Dave kinda let it slip. I didn’t know he liked her until after he showed me that series!” By then, she was blushing. 

I couldn’t say I was surprised. Many people have been drawn to the key of D minor. She’s just hauntingly sad. And maybe furious at times. And possibly a reminder of gloom. Mozart’s requiem, Beethoven’s ninth symphony, Bruckner. In fact, Bruckner was apprehensive about writing his ninth symphony in D minor, the same key that Beethoven wrote his ninth in. 

“How did the episode about me describe me?” I decided to change the subject. I took a sip of my latte, bracing myself for whatever characteristics I was purported to have. I looked at Rafaela, and for a brief moment, we made eye contact, before she looked away and lifted her own cup to her lips.

“You are beautiful,” she began. “Really attractive, but you don’t know it. And you walk barefoot on the grass, with sunlight grazing your shoulders. Also, you have some sadness in you.”

I was not sure the part describing my physical appearance was entirely accurate. I don’t think I’m unattractive, it’s that I don’t particularly think I’m outstanding in the looks department. If you asked me, I’d say that A major was easily one of the better looking ones. I suppose it was somewhat true, I enjoyed walking in the sun. But I usually wore a T-shirt, not one of those things that exposed the shoulders. I don’t even know what they’re called. And sadness? I had always known I wasn’t the happiest of major keys, but I didn’t know to what extent the sadness in me showed through.

“According to the episode, you had a rough childhood, but you overcame the past. And, I quote, ‘now she stands tall’. So maybe you’re good at moving on. Also, it says that you’re a mom.”

“Excuse me?” I hiccuped. “What do you mean, I’m a mother?” What I did not mention is that I’ve been called a tomboy, made fun of, and shoved into the mud many times, for not being feminine enough. I was too much of a boy. If the people I had encountered in the past had heard this, they would be roaring in laughter. My past hadn’t exactly been a bed of roses. I've even been told to stay single to spare anyone the thought of being with me, much less be a mother. They said I was too messed up to be a mum. While the prospect of being childless did not bother me, something else about that comment did.

“There was something about you cradling your baby and your heart swelling with gratitude,” Rafaela said. “Look, I’m not the one who came up with these characteristics. And that reminds me, you seem like the kind of person who gets impatient at times, but you have a good heart. Teasing your loved ones, throwing dinner parties. And you were characterised as someone who would never leave me.”

“That last bit seems way more accurate than the bit about me being a mother,” I grumbled. “You got me there, I do enjoy a good dinner party. And hanging out with my friends. But being a mum? Really?” I couldn’t keep the incredibility out of my voice. I glanced at Rafaela, who had a weird expression on her face. “That’s like calling Dr James Barry a woman, when he clearly wasn’t one."

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” she demanded. “Also, who is Dr James Barry?”

“Hey now, that’s personal,” I said as lightly as I could. “And go google him. I don’t want to reveal everything about myself based on what you think I know.”

“I was discussing this whole synesthesia thing with a friend who isn’t Dave, and she agreed that if F major were a guy, he wouldn’t be very macho.” Rafaela changed the subject, without really changing it. “You just seem like the sort of guy who has no time for toxic masculinity.”

"Is that what I look like to you?” Inside, however, I was beaming.

Rafaela finished the last of her drink. “What do other people think of you?” she replied. “Maybe that’s your answer.”

Later that day, when the sun was about to set, I stopped by to check in on my relative minor. I didn’t really worry about my parallel minor, because I knew F minor was usually engaged in some sports event. But the sad key of D minor? That was a different story.

When I walked in, I saw D major sitting at the dining table, marking papers. “If not for the past few centuries in which I know my relative minor, I would’ve thought I’m in the wrong place,” I quipped.

D major nodded towards the master bedroom. “She’s in there,” she said noncommittally. “How was your day?”

“It was okay, I guess. Had a talk with that kid, Rafaela,” I answered. D major looked at me. “That kid is in my math class,” she said.

“I feel like I should be surprised, but honestly, I’m not,” I laughed. “Looks like C major is doing a superb job, assigning groups of us to the same place.” “Yeah, I guess so,” came the reply, as I walked into the master bedroom.

D minor was lying on the bed, reading, with her phone beside her. “Hey. How are you feeling?” I enquired. “Wanna grab some dinner?”

She sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed. “Feel like I could sleep any moment,” she complained. "Do I even want to get up again when I know the world would be better off without me, seeing how everyone has turned against me all these years?" I bent down, and she took my hand. I pulled her to her feet and turned to leave the room.

“Rafaela seems horrified that her friend Dave has taken a liking to you.” I tried to keep the atmosphere casual.

“Oh, so that’s his name. The guy who confessed to me while I was looking at scores in the library some time ago.” 

“I hope you weren’t too creeped out,” I said, now in the living room. She followed me, seemingly hesitant. D major was packing up the last of the papers she had to mark. “Teachers need a weekend, too,” she groaned as she walked out the door.

“So much for living a normal life,” D minor muttered beside me. 

“I don’t think depression is normal, either. Sure, it may be common, but it’s something you shouldn’t have to suffer through. There’s a difference between what’s common and what’s normal, and I remember learning that in a psychology class.” I glanced at her as she sank down on a couch. Her face was blank, and I admired her dark eyes, which were gazing into the distance. I sat down next to her. F major and D minor, was this a representation of how we modulated into one another in many pieces with either of us as the home key?

“A rope ends it is an anagram of desperation, and whoever came up with it is very relatable,” she said, her head resting on my shoulder as I stared at the TV.

I reached for her hand, and as I did so, I was suddenly aware of her breathing. “You okay?”

“Do you even know what it’s like, living like this?” she sighed. “At least you swung by tonight.” By then, it had started pouring. Rain was hammering on the roof and windows. I imagined the Raindrop Prelude playing in the background. A random thought of D-flat major flashed through my mind. I hadn’t seen D-flat major in a while, and I hoped she was doing okay. A thud jolted me out of my thoughts. D minor had fallen asleep, and the TV remote hit the floor. 

I lifted her from the couch and carried her to bed. Wow, I’m getting stronger, I thought. F minor would be proud. When I set her down on her bed, D minor woke up and looked at me, through the darkness and the pain I knew she was going through. I knew, because I had experienced it myself, and seen that same darkness in her eyes. A pain that most major keys would not ever experience. “Is something bothering you?” I asked. “Like this whole, atonality war, government cracking down on the arts, us needing synaesthetic musicians, thing?”

My relative minor shrugged. “Probably.” She looked away from me. 

“We’ll talk about this in the morning,” I decided. “Now get some sleep.” 

Even as the two of us drifted off, I knew that there was a bigger issue that had not been explicitly mentioned. It wasn’t about her, or whatever it was that she wasn’t telling me. I hated admitting it, but there was something I felt she deserved to know.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Dave

Lately, this whole music key thing has been intriguing me. I decided to search Google for more information, even though it seemed unlikely that I would find something I didn’t already know. Classical musicians were having a harder time finding jobs, and the music that was played was flat and emotionless. It was as if everyone was slowly losing the ability to feel emotions in music.

I googled “music key personalities” and many of the results were pretty much the same thing: a list of key characters by Schubart. I glanced through, looking at the keys I had already met in person. Seriously, were the keys different back then? Their personalities as described by Schubart were quite different to what I had experienced myself.

Eventually I found this thing called the Signature Series CBC. The producer was based in Canada, and apparently he’d come up with this cool idea of personifying the keys. How it worked was like this: each episode, around 4-5 minutes long, started with an ascending scale of the key. If it was a minor key, the harmonic minor scale was used. And get this: each key had a nickname. I had chanced upon F-sharp major/G-flat major (I still had no idea which enharmonic spelling she/they/he preferred to go by), D minor and A major. Let me see. The Mystic, The Ice Queen and the Will’O-the-Wisp. 

I decided to start with A major. Man, this Signature Series thing seemed to capture some, if not most, of her personality. A major had drawn me in, and now I found myself involved in this whole synesthetic business. Twirled me around her little finger. The girl next door. I suppose she was friendly in that way.

F-sharp major (she was written as F-sharp major in the series) supposedly had a green thumb. Where had I last seen her? At a place with a lot of plants. Okay, so that didn’t necessarily mean anything. But the vibe she gave off that day, it matched what I was hearing now. Just so you know, her relative minor is written as E-flat minor. From his nickname, I figured that E-flat minor was some slightly crazy dude whom nobody really understood. I guessed, in this series, parallel keys keep the same enharmonic spelling, seeing as F-sharp major could have been G-flat major but F-sharp minor, her parallel minor, would not have been G-flat minor. How many flats would that have been, anyway? Too many.

I was not prepared for the D minor episode. Alluring, sexy. Huh. I didn’t remember Re being sexy, at least not in that sense. I guess, she had been alluring in her own way. I remembered how I felt pulled towards her. Sultry dark eyes, accurate. The part about her being all sad and angry at the world? Quite accurate. The problem: she wasn’t quite as scary as she was made out to be. By the end of the episode, I felt for her more than I had upon meeting her for the first time in that library.

I listened to these 3 episodes during my lunch break, and after my last class, I looked for Rafaela, the only other person whom I knew was also caught up in this synesthetic mess. I sat her down and showed her what I had found.

“Interesting,” she murmured. “That could come in handy if we were to meet more keys in person, already knowing what their personalities are like. The problem is, this is based on one person’s perception, and while it’s mostly accurate, there might be some differences in the way we perceive them.”

“I know. A major seemed to fit the description pretty well, but she was more annoying than she was portrayed.” I thought back to the day she had hounded me in the train station.

“Huh,” Rafaela snorted. “You know what, if you have time now, let’s listen to the episodes of the keys we both have met, and compare.”

So that’s what we did for the next fifteen or so minutes. Rafaela had met F minor a couple of times, like I had with F-sharp major. We both met D minor and A major. What surprised me the most was the fact that D major was Raf’s math teacher. 

“I didn’t know they could be part of our normal lives, much less be a math teacher,” I remarked.

“Well, many musicians were scientists and mathematicians in their own time. The composer Alexander Borodin had a chemical reaction named after him,” she replied.

“Wow. Guess it isn’t so surprising, huh? I swear, the more we get sucked into this, the stranger everything looks on the surface,” I grumbled.

“Also, there’s something I think you should know,” Rafaela said. “Now that we’ve listened to the D minor episode.”

“Wait, what’s this about? Apart from the fact that she’s a lot less scary in real life than she’s portrayed, and a lot sweeter as a person?”

Raf rolled her eyes. “No, Dave. Okay, maybe. But this is what I’ve noticed myself, and what F major told me.” “Her relative major talked to you about her? Why wasn’t I part of that conversation?” I asked. Considering that I fell pretty hard for the key of D minor, or Re, as Raf and I called her, it made sense that I would’ve liked a chance to converse with her relative major, F major. Kinda like talking to your crush’s older sibling to learn what their favourite food is. Raf sighed. “Shut up and listen to me for a while, okay?” She glanced around to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. “Re, as I know the key of D minor by, appears to have some of the symptoms of depression.”

“Hold on a moment. Before you slap a diagnostic label on what could very well be a temporary mood, let’s look up depression,” I said firmly. “Dave, I’m well aware that sadness is not depression, or at least, not all sadness is. She seems like she’d stay at home all day and not get anything done, but miraculously, she goes out. Obviously with this whole thing going on. Maybe her relative or parallel majors are helping her. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s serious. Plus, F major seemed worried. I don’t think you get worried over someone who feels sad for a day or two, and is back to normal after that.”

“Yes, Dr Rafaela,” I joked. I looked at her to see her reaction and realised she was serious. Without warning, Raf had slapped me on the arm. Ow. “This isn’t funny,” she hissed.

“I stopped laughing, but yeah,” I grumbled.

“Anyway, the next step is to find her and possibly F major too. I’ll update you,” she promised. “See you tomorrow.”

With that, I walked towards the exit, making my home, and worrying once again about the pile of assignments that I had. 

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

List of personified keys I’ve met: D minor, F major, F minor (I actually met her when I was a kid but that’s a long story), and A major. Until now, I hadn’t really noticed anything about those keys and why I met them specifically.

Lately, things had been quiet, in relation to the keys. For a few weeks, I went to school as normal, hung out with Dave, and rushed to meet deadlines. Today, during math, while the teacher was explaining the mean value theorem, my mind wandered. Probably because of the ADHD.

I was staring at the teacher’s face, her hair, and her clothes. I had no idea why, but her mannerisms reminded me of someone I had met a few weeks ago. I tried and tried but I couldn’t remember who it was. Out of frustration, I turned my attention back to math. Holy smokes, the teacher was pretty. Not that I hadn’t noticed it before, but today I couldn’t seem to stop staring at her. Finally, math ended, and it was literature, the last class of the day.

Literature went on as per normal, with the class moving their seats to form a circle to facilitate the class discussion. Some of my classmates had laptops, which they used to type what was said. Others preferred to highlight and annotate the text. After yet another uneventful lesson, the school day was over. We put back our chairs behind the tables, as we always did after every literature lesson.

I plugged in my earphones, slung my bag over my shoulders and hugged my laptop as I walked out of my classroom. Some kids had already left, while others chose to stay behind to do some homework or finish assignments. I made my way down the steps and onto the pavement, avoiding people and trying not to look at the afternoon sun. 

As I walked past the café in the mall where I used to hang out in my earlier years at this school, I saw my math teacher sitting at a booth by the window. She glanced outside and saw me. I waved to her and continued walking. I stopped at the traffic light, since they weren’t in my favour. The sun was blazing, and sweat was trickling down my face in rivulets. I wiped the sweat off with the back of my hand, envying people with umbrellas. At least I was wearing sunscreen, like I did every day. 

Seconds before the lights were in my favour, someone tapped my shoulder. It was my math teacher. Seriously, did she have to be so pretty? In the afternoon sunlight, she was gorgeous. “Hey Rafaela,” she greeted me. “You seemed a little distracted during my class today. Is anything bothering you?”

As we crossed the road, I fumbled for an answer. “Not really. It’s just that…uh, you reminded me of something that happened to me a few weeks ago, and I can’t put my finger on it. Sorry,” I tried to sound apologetic. In an attempt to change the subject, I inquired, "Are you taking the train home as well?” I know, small talk often seems dumb, but if you were me, you’d understand. And it wasn’t as if we weren’t walking towards the train station. 

My teacher smiled. “No, I drive to work. Even though I could take the train, I don’t fancy having to squeeze on the train every day. But if I took the train, I’d take the red line.” Right. I had forgotten that most teachers who drive to school park at the carpark near the train station, rather than the one at school, because of the high parking charges.

“That’s my line too! I live 7 stations away. I live in Bradlington.”

“Actually, would you like a ride home? I’m going to Bradlington to run some errands.”

If only I had known what was going to happen, I might have chosen to take the train home, as I usually did.

My teacher drove a silver Mazda 3. I was about to climb onto the backseat, when she invited me to sit in front. Okay. She was my teacher, not a taxi driver.

“So, Rafaela, how are things at home? Are you coping well with ADHD?” she probed. Most teachers knew about my diagnosis, so that they wouldn’t get angry at me when I forgot assignments or spaced out in class.

“Uh…I’m managing rather well, I’d say. The side effects of the medication aren’t great, but they’re worth it if I can keep up in school.” By this time, we were out of the carpark and were waiting for the lights to turn green. The car in front of us was a white Honda Sonata. This reminded me of a music joke, and I started smiling. A Honda Sonata with one flat tire was a Honda Sonata in F major. I fought down the smile.

My mind wandered again. F major. The relative was D minor, the parallel was F minor. I had met D minor, F major, F minor, and A major. So the first 3 keys were related, but not A major. A major was the dominant of D minor…

And it was with this, I realised the tonics of the keys I had met so far formed the tonic chord of D minor. The key who had started the course of events that changed my life in the past few months.

“This might seem awkward, Rafaela, but I need to ask you something. Did anything strange happen to you? Or is someone picking on you, at school, at home, or in another setting?”

I shook my head. “It’s really just today. Your mannerisms suddenly reminded me of someone I met a few weeks ago.” But I doubt you know her. You would think I was crazy if I told you who she was. The words that were unspoken died in my throat.

My teacher had that knowing look in her eyes. “You’re synaesthetic, huh?” Okay, so my math teacher guessed it. What did that have to do with anything? Was she going to ask me what colours the digits 0 to 9 were?

“Yeah. I have various forms, but the strongest one is the one where I perceive music keys as having personalities. As if they were people. Of course, they have colour, too. You know, musician stuff. I’m a music student.”

She nodded, as the car made a turn and went up the expressway. “Rafaela, I’m surprised you still don’t know me.”

I tried not to snort in indignation. Of course I knew her, she was my math teacher.

“You were probably thinking of my parallel minor, weren’t you?” she continued.

How did this make sense? Was my math teacher actually a personification of a music key? Like how my swimming instructor turned out to be F minor? Why would a math teacher know much more than basic note names when it came to musical knowledge? And which key was she talking about? And why were we having this conversation on an expressway? Just so you know, there are better places to be having this conversation.

I felt my cheeks colour. “I, um, I…I met the personification of one of my favourite keys a couple of months ago. It didn’t go as well as planned.”

“Huh?”

“Umm...let’s just say my impulsivity got me into trouble.” 

My teacher nodded wordlessly.

“If we’re both thinking of the same person, you know who I am,” she said. So…D major? I mean, I admitted to making the key of D minor even sadder than she already was, and prior to that, my math teacher said that I was probably thinking of her parallel minor. This was creepy. Did personifications have the ability to read my mind?

“You’re…D major? Seriously, this has got to be among the weirdest conversations in the whole of human history.” I could hear the disbelief in my voice. “How do you live among humans? You know, legal names and stuff. I doubt you can walk around announcing that you’re one of the 24 keys, personified. Non-musicians wouldn’t understand, and neither would non-synesthetic musicians, if we’re being honest.“

“I’ll explain another day. And do you want me drop you off at your place, or is the train station fine?” I couldn’t believe it. The key of D major was giving me a ride home. Not only that, she was also my math teacher. What in the world, right?

“Yeah, the train station will do. Thanks. Uh…do I address you as I did before, or…?” I hesitated. D major laughed, a sound that evoked images of the sun on a bright summer day. “Use your brain, Rafaela. Do you really want your classmates to think we’re both insane?”

“No,” I admitted. By now, we had gotten off the expressway, and we were approaching the familiar streets that surrounded the train station. D major stopped right at the drop-off point, and as I shut the door, I waved to her. I could see her smile at me as she drove off. D major. Please protect her. After all, you’re her parallel major.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Thanks for motivating me to do scales! :) I love this blog and somehow haven't found it before this whoops

You’re welcome. Please don’t laugh at my crappy imagination though.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Dave

After my second encounter with F-sharp major/G-flat major, I thought my life couldn’t get any weirder. Personifications of music keys? Alive, talking to me? Yeah, maybe I was dreaming. 

Turns out it was for real. Two weeks later, some annoying kid seemed to be following me as I walked from school. At first, I thought it might be a coincidence, that she might be following someone who was in the same crowd. Just as I quickened my pace, she tapped my shoulder.

“Excuse me, can I talk to you for a moment? You aren’t in a hurry, are you?” she asked. She sounded British. She was pretty, with soft brown eyes, wavy caramel-colored hair that reached halfway down her back, rosy cheeks, and the smile of an angel. Like those girls in movies set in England, except that she wasn’t wearing one of those fancy dresses. Just a T-shirt and jeans. On the T-shirt was the key signature of A major, with the A that orchestras tuned to included, written as a crotchet.

“Okay, who are you? I may be older than you, but I’m uncomfortable with being followed by a child. In any case, you’re talking to the wrong guy. I’m not into girls. Or anyone for that matter. And I have quite a few assignments to complete, not that you’d understand, since you’re too…” The girl interrupted me. “Too young?” she finished. “I’m not a child, I’m 14. And are you really sure you’re not into girls?”

“Uh…why would you care about that? I don’t need to share the details of being asexual with a total stranger.” Goodness, who was this kid?

“I’m going straight to the point. I’m not a stranger. You just haven’t seen me before, but you’ve heard me before. And it seemed that you were kinda attracted to my subdominant minor. There. I’m A major. Does that explain everything now?” I really wished this kid would shut her mouth. “Don’t worry, it’s not that I want you to conform to heteronormative ideals, but I would know about you and D minor. Everyone knows she’s your favourite key. She appears to be about 10 years older than me.” So was this what the human form of A major looked like? I remember wondering what music keys would be like if they could be people, but I hadn’t quite expected this.

“So what’s this all about?” I shot back. Oops. That probably sounded rude. Very rude. She laughed, a sound like silvery bells. “I’ve been assigned to look for synaesthetic musicians who can perceive us in human like you’re doing right now,” she said.

“What?”

“The Baroque period began in the 1600s.” A major sounded like she had this conversation before. “Now it’s around 400 years later. Why else do you think certain keys sound the way they do? For centuries, people have been discussing the emotional characteristics of keys, and I’m a product of that conversation.”

“Differences in tuning systems. Or something like that.” I thought to myself, Is this for real?

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Okay, I need to give you and your friend the long story. Rafaela. There is a reason for all of this, and it’s going to take a while. Arrange a time to meet with me. I’ll give you my number.”

I stared at her, and A major laughed. “Yes, I do have a phone. Gotta blend in with these humans.” I handed her my phone, and she typed in her number. Maybe they all had phones so that they could contact one another quickly. I mean, they were in human form now. Right?

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

“How about nitric oxide? N-O.”

“Enough with the chemistry jokes,” Re groaned. “Okay, so what happened?”

This was really awkward. “Am I really acting different than before?” I sounded like I needed assurance. “I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. I’m trying to busy myself with chemistry to take my mind off things,” my voice got quieter at the end.

Before I could continue, I tripped and dropped the pile of books I was carrying. I muttered in frustration as I gathered my things. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. What was I…oh right, I was about to mention something really strange.” I looked into her eyes, trying to convey something I didn’t have the guts to say. 

“Go ahead,” she shrugged.

“Okay. Don’t flip out at me. Sometimes I wonder…” I gulped. “What on earth am I saying? This doesn’t make sense. This whole conversation doesn’t make sense. This whole thing’s gotta be a joke.” As I spoke, I got more agitated. Calm down, I told myself. “Forget what I said. Ignore me.” 

“It’s alright,” Re replied quietly, in a tone that made me feel like my blood had frozen. “You’d be happier anyway.” She was staring straight ahead. What was that supposed to mean? I glanced at her, but I couldn’t read her expression. 

“Is there a reason composers often end in a major key if the piece is in a minor key?” I quipped. “No, I don’t mean the music theory reason. I mean the synaesthetic reason.“ The thought had come to me out of nowhere, and I decided I might as well lighten the mood. “I was listening to the third movement of Mozart’s twentieth piano concerto, and at the last minute of the piece, where the music is in D major, I kept feeling the quiet warmth that comes. I don’t really know how to explain it. It just…felt good.” I glanced at Re again. “Does listening to music in major keys help?”

I heard her inhale deeply, and some colour returned to her face. She was pretty, but the rage and grief she exuded often clouded her expression. I wondered what had happened to her to make her this way.

The bell rang. “I’ve gotta go. I have math now. Maybe I’ll see you later?” I said, as I walked away.

Later that day, I saw Re standing in the distance, gazing at nothing in particular. I shouted her name, and she turned around to see who had called her. I expected her to ignore me and turn away. Instead, she stood there, gazing at me with those dark eyes. I slowed my pace and closed the distance between us. 

“Re, are you okay?” Those very words that I thought during chemistry, when Erica was annoying me and I grit my teeth. I looked at her carefully, and it was then that something felt off. When she spoke, her voice was flat and lifeless. “I’m okay.” 

“No, you’re not,” I said, as firmly as I could. “Something is very wrong.” 

Re turned away and started walking. The sun shone on her, lighting up her hair. I took big strides as I was carrying my schoolbag and my laptop and couldn’t run after her. There was a pause before she spoke. “You sound like my relative major,” she said. The way she said it, it sounded like a kid complaining that another adult sounded like her mother.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked.

“Eh...I don’t know, actually. I was just making an observation.”

“Okay, but consider. F major sounds like she would protect you from anything, like she wouldn’t let you get hurt, you know, all that heroic friend stuff. So I think I’ll take that statement as a compliment.”

As I mentioned F major, the key of D minor did a double take. She looked surprised. 

“Did I say something wrong?” I asked.

“Hard to say,” she mumbled. 

“What do you mean, it’s hard to say? Either I said something wrong, or I didn’t. And I doubt talking about F major in a positive light is wrong.” Again, I realised how rude I sounded only after the words left my mouth.

“See, that’s the thing. It’s not what you said about F major. It’s...hard to explain to you if you don’t already have an idea,” she said.

“Is it something I should know?”

“I’ll leave that for F major to tell you. Some things aren’t mine to tell.”

“I didn’t know F major had secrets,” I remarked.

Re looked at me. I wasn’t sure what that look in her eyes meant, but I had a feeling it was nothing good.

“Hey, are you free now? We could hang out,” I suggested. I felt like breaking the ice even further. Also, I just wanted an excuse to hang out with her. Ever since that first meeting, something about her had captivated me.

“You sure you don’t have schoolwork to do?” she said. I was surprised; I didn’t expect her to care about my grades, or the non-musical parts of my life.

“Well, I do, but that can wait. I like spending time with friends,” I smiled at Re. Would this cheer her up?

She continued to lean against the wall. “I think you might want to reconsider.”

“Why? Spending time with friends is important. You’re my friend.” I held out a hand. It felt a little awkward, especially because Re is taller than me. To anyone else, it would look like a child inviting an adult along to something. She smiled slightly.

“You’re persistent, you know,” she remarked.

“Funny, I remember your dominant major saying the same thing a while back.”

“You talk to A major?”

“More like, she met me first. She’s noisy and capricious. And bossy. But she’s fun.”

“That’s A major for you,” D minor said. I tried to figure out the emotion in her voice. As a kid, there was no way I’d have imagined the personified keys talking about one another like this.

We were sitting at a bench in the park near my school. “So,” I began, “is anything bothering you?”

She sighed. “Not again.”

“What?”

“What’s with everyone asking if I’m fine? Of course I’m fine!” Ré mineur said. 

“In my experience, people who insist they’re fine generally aren’t fine. Maybe you’re one of them,” I interjected. She kept silent.

I looked at her and noticed her slim arms, and on her left wrist was an analogue watch with metal straps.

“That’s a cool watch,” I said, as I grabbed her left hand. She pulled away reflexively before relaxing. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

“It’s fine.”

I examined her watch, turning her wrist over as I avoided making eye contact with her. “What brand is this?” 

“It’s...” Re got interrupted as a young man around her age walked up to us. He gave off the vibe of someone who would play up the tiniest scratch, while managing to look good the whole time. “Hey, I recognise you,” he said to me. 

“Sorry, but I don’t,” I retorted. The guy laughed. “Of course you don’t. Maybe if you paid a little more attention in music theory...”

“You don’t look like the sort of person who would take a music theory class,” I said. “Anyway, who are you?” As I fired back my responses, I felt a little nudge in my side. Re whispered in my ear, “That’s the person I wanted to avoid the second time we were together.”

The man smiled. “Oh yeah? You pretended not to see me, or maybe you really didn’t, but I saw you two together a few weeks ago. Why you’re hanging out with this sad mopey person, I can’t imagine.” In that moment, I wanted to give D minor a hug. I couldn’t bear to see the look on her face right now.

“You’re not answering my question,” I said more firmly, glaring as hard as I could at the guy. “But from the way you talk, I have a feeling I’m supposed to know you.”

“Maybe you’ll figure out who I am the next time we meet. Really, what do they teach you musical synnies these days?”

I frowned. “Synnies?”

He laughed again. “You don’t know? Synnies, short for synaesthetes. It’s why you can perceive me as I am and talk to me. Most people would just ignore me because there’s no other option for how they respond to me.”

I figured this was another of the 24 keys. Goodness, which one of them was it? I had a feeling this guy in front of me wasn’t a major key. Major keys, in my experience, are never this annoying, not even A major. A major could be opinionated and bossy, but she wasn’t like this at all.

“Let me guess, you’re one of the 24 keys personified. But you’re not among the ones I have officially met,” I said.

“Which ones have you met?” he asked. “Apart from this one here.” He gestured at Re.

“Shouldn’t you know? If you know I’m a musical synaesthete at one glance, it’s fair to assume that you’re in touch with everyone else who’s keeping track of everything and that you know who I’ve already met in person.”

The guy sighed. “It’s clear this isn’t going anywhere, so I’ll give you a hint. Listen to Mendelssohn’s violin concerto, opus 64. Maybe you’ll find answers.”

He turned his attention to the girl next to me. “Leave her alone,” I yelled, as I stood up. I cursed my not-so-tall height as I only reached up to the guy’s nose. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you will not bother my friend here.” I glanced at Re, who was expressionless.

“Don’t bother,” she said. “It’s okay, Rafaela.”

“That’s all she is to you, kid? A friend?” the guy said.

“Clearly you don’t understand how wonderful friendship is,” I growled. “What’s with everyone assuming-” I got cut off by him.

“That’s not what I meant. I have a feeling D minor here has not explained everything to you.”

“Surprisingly, another key did explain things to me. You are looking for musical synaesthetes who can aid you in this battle against emotion and the different art forms, and this battle was started by the government. Is that right?” I said.

I enjoyed the look on the guy’s face as his eyes widened. “Wow, you do know what’s going on.”

“Of course I do!” I shouted back as I sat back down. 

“You’re cleverer than I thought,” he said. He turned to D minor. “Don’t let this be a repeat of what happened in 1791.” With that, he walked away and melted into the crowd.

“Who was that?” I groaned. I was relieved when he finally left, but I had an uneasy feeling I’d be seeing more of him.

Re inhaled deeply before letting out her breath. “That was the key of E minor. Thankfully E major and G major aren’t like that.”

“Can’t they tell him to tone it down a bit?” I complained. 

“They do try to keep him in check, but there’s only so much they can do. Plus, each key has more than just their relative and parallel keys to worry about. We have dominant and subdominant keys too, both major and minor. Of course, in general we’re closer to dominant and subdominant keys of the same tonality, but as you know, A major and I are rather close.”

“Okay, that makes sense. So what was that about 1791?” I asked.

The expression on her face darkened. Suddenly I thought back to when I first figured out who she really was in the library. Her voice jolted me from my thoughts. “You remember when we first met?”

“Yeah. You were reading a score of Mozart’s requiem. And that’s how I figured you’re D minor. Or if you prefer the French name, Ré mineur.” At that, she smiled. It made her look even prettier.

“Mozart died before he could finish his requiem. It was completed-”

“By other people. He died on 5th December in 1791, right? Is that what E minor was talking about?”

Re sighed. “It wasn’t just that. His death affected me pretty badly.” Her voice trembled a little. I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said softly.

“I felt like Mozart understood me, in a way. He understood G minor too, but that’s not relevant now. For me, it was like Mozart knew how to express my anger and sadness.”

“Wait...you actually interacted with Mozart? And the other composers as well?” I felt my heart thundering in my chest out of excitement. I took a deep breath to calm down.

“It might seem amazing to you, but to us, it’s normal. That’s how they composed their music, by engaging with their emotions in the form of tonality. Of course, this isn’t the case for all musical works.”

I glanced at the watch on Re’s left wrist, and to my surprise, it was nearly 5pm. I stood up abruptly. “I’d like to talk more, but I’ve got to go,” I said apologetically. “My parents will be waiting for me. Take care, okay? Hopefully I’ll see you soon again.”

I wanted to hug her, but I wasn’t sure if she was cool with it. All I could do was to smile and wave before making my way home. As I turned away, I couldn’t help thinking about how beautiful the key of D minor was, both in person and in sound.

[mozart-and-mocha]

Rafaela

It was during break on a Thursday morning at 9.45 am that my friend Dave came up to me. We were rather good friends since our first year in this school.

“Raf, I met the key of D minor.” Dave was struggling to keep the excitement out of his voice. “So, how did it go?” I asked as we walked towards the cafeteria. The chatter around me made it hard to hear him.

“I told her that when I was young, I had always been drawn to the key of D minor. I remember wondering why it was so beautiful. And now that I’ve met her, I know the answer.” 

“Number one: that can’t have been all you talked about. Number two: What was her response?”

“She just stared at me. Like she couldn’t believe what I was saying.” Dave shrugged. His reply got me thinking. How long had it been since I’d last seen Re? “What do you mean, she just stared at you? Didn’t she say anything?”

Dave ordered an iced mocha drink, and while waiting for his order, he turned back to me. “Not towards the end. She seemed comfortable with silence. But I think she kinda knew who I was. When we first talked, I mentioned you, and she asked me if I was a musician. Does she sense stuff like that?”

“DAVE! I told you already, she’s a personification of a music key!” I realised what I had just shouted and I clapped a hand over my mouth. I hoped that nobody had heard that. “Whoops, that was a little too loud,” I whispered. “Anyway, yes, she can sense stuff like that.”

Dave whistled. “That’s really neat. By the way, her face matches her sound.”

I whirled around to look at him. “What, in the world, do you mean by that?” I demanded.

Dave grinned. “The way she looks as a person does match the sadness I hear in the key of D minor.” 

“Really. Is that the first thing you noticed?” I laughed.

We walked back to my classroom. Dave and I were in different classes, and since my classroom had fewer students in it at the moment, we went into mine. “D minor gives off the vibe that makes you want to protect her,” he said, in a neutral tone.

“Yeah, that’s true. Oh, I forgot to mention, if you say her full name in a Romance language, she prefers the French version. Ré mineur. I wonder, did she spend a few years in France?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but thanks for the heads up. Come to think of it, maybe I should practise my French accent, or actually learn some French, and then when I next see her, I could impress her...” Dave burst out laughing.

“Stop it.” I tried to kick Dave, but he moved away. “I almost wish I never told you about Re and her friends.”

“But since I perceive the keys as having personalities, wouldn’t that mean I might have bumped into one of them on my own? Is that something only synaesthetes of our kind can do?”

“You have a fair point,” I grumbled. “Anyway, it’s time for your next class. Time flies when you’re having a very strange discussion.”

[mozart-and-mocha]

this is really cool! when will the next update be?

Oh my goodness…I am so sorry for not updating this. The inertia that came after I graduated from high school was too great. I spend time imagining stories but not actually writing them down. Hopefully I’ll publish one of my drafts soon.