Originally published at the MockingOwl Roost in the Unknown and Unseen issue.

“Thanks for calling in, young lady! We’ll put your favorite song on next.”

Marissa scampered away from the phone, still a landline in her house, and ran to her bedroom to plop back in front of the radio. She arrived just in time to hear the announcer say, “Our favorite local lass has called in again, requesting her favorite classical work by her favorite composer, Heitor Villa-Lobos, Etude No. 1, played by Christopher Parkening on Spanish guitar.”

The subtle rhythms of the acoustic etude flowed from the old fashioned box radio on the ten-year-old’s window sill beside the purple and green filled bedroom. The little girl had always loved violets, pansies, and lavender roses, so her parents, as they could afford it, helped her slowly decorate the tiny room at the back of the trailer with the vibrant, calming flowers. She had vases filled with silk lavender roses and pansies, and little scattered pieces of china she’d found at flea markets, thrift stores, and yard sales covered in the lovely blooms. The accent color of vivid crayon box green suited the atmosphere of the bedroom perfectly, drawing in warmth and spring-like vibrance to the space otherwise dark in the trailer park that was untended and unkempt outside.

Marissa sat on the makeshift window seat, enraptured by the flowing, sometimes discordant song, appreciating the nuances of electrical energy, subtle lingering melody lines, and the intense rhythms of the song’s middle movement. She dreamed of one day playing such music herself, but she knew her family could never afford music lessons and she’d either have to figure it out on her own or find some way of bringing in massive amounts of money so the family could spare the cash.

Being only ten, though, Marissa’s only means of earning income was doing her chores, which she knew wouldn’t magically produce money for her lessons. She was excellent at math, advanced actually, and knew it simply wouldn’t happen. She did her best and saved as much as she could, though, and spent her quiet homeschooler afternoons in “music appreciation class” listening to the classical station for hours on end. The only time she switched the radio off was when a sharp soprano came on and hurt her sensitive ears with screeching.

Eventually, when she was thirteen, Marissa saved her allowance enough that she could buy a second-hand acoustic guitar from a pawn shop in the city an hour away. She called into the radio station daily, requesting the Etude, pulling out her guitar and plucking away at the strings. The announcers should have grown tired of her daily requests for four years now, and of course they didn’t always oblige, but they were always pleased to hear the young girl’s voice calling in and requesting anything.

“Hello Marissa! Shall we play your favorite song, sweetie?” the female announcer, Mrs. Gwendolyn Schiller, Marissa’s favorite announcer, asked one day when the girl was fourteen and had had her guitar for one year and seventeen days.

“No,” Marissa surprised her by saying. “I want to learn a new song now. I think I have Etude No. 1 pretty good. At least, I have it memorized.”

Mrs. Gwendolyn paused. “Memorized? Do you mean you’ve been teaching yourself the song by listening to it on the radio?”

“Yes, ma’am. The grace notes gave me some difficulty, and I think that’s why it took me so long to learn. But now I’m ready to learn a new song. I really like Asturias by Isaac Albeniz. I think I’d like to learn that one next. Ma’am, are you all right?”

“I’m just fine, Marissa,” Gwendolyn, who wiped at the sudden tears on her cheeks.  “I’ll get that song for you on the radio next. I look forward to hearing from you tomorrow. I hope you enjoy learning to play it.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Marissa hung up, confused. Maybe this was Mrs. Gwendolyn’s favorite song? She was glad she’d chosen to learn it next.