Love for a pianist

LOVE FOR A PIANIST. 1

I arrived by accident. No one expected me. Nevertheless, I was heartily welcomed at the door. I explained that my uncle had invited me earlier that day, but everyone was too excited to listen to me. If I had not been a family member, I would have felt ignored and unwanted, but being one of the mob, it was assumed that I would wander about, fitting in and politely chatting with my relations.2

The trip here was silent because I collected my young brother along the way. He was always one to cause uproar and tonight was no different. 3

“I only had a few joints,” he explained, as he jumped quickly into the seat beside me. “Mum goes on as though it was a crime.” With that, he settled down and went to sleep, like a St Bernard in quiet comfort. Our arrival, half an hour late, was when he first woke up.4

Uncle invited me to see the new pianist play. I did not know him at all, but I knew this was the pianist’s first public performance, and this practice was to help him overcome his nerves. That was hard in this room full of inquisitive people and I sat down to watch him prepare.5

He was nervous and he came gingerly into the room and stood waiting to be introduced. He did not look like the pianist as I had imagined. Before me stood a young man, thin compared to everyone else and dressed quite casually, looking for every bit like the boy from next door, who had come in looking for a lost cricket ball.6

“You’ll be O.K.,” I heard my uncle say to him, as he tried to encourage the visibly shaking artist. “Just play as you normally do. As if we were not here.”7

“Fat chance of that,” I thought as I noticed that this comment seemed to make the pianist more nervous than before.8

Finally, uncle introduced him and he moved to his seat at the piano. His forehead was covered in perspiration and he glanced nervously at the audience.9

A woman came into the room. She was a tall woman who demanded attention by her distinguished carriage and her fine clothes. Dressed in a flowing gown of light blue and decorated tastefully with jewels which sparkled in the dimming light, she looked majestic as she took a seat on the side where she could see the pianist.10

I watched her with curiosity. Who was she? She did not belong in my family. The boy watched her enter and he immediately began to show an ease, which made me realise that this woman was important to him. He felt some comfort in her presence.11

“I know you will do well,” she whispered to him as she took her seat.12

She seemed older than her friend, but she possessed a beauty which emphasized her soft delicate skin and the beauty of her shining, golden hair, which tumbled carelessly over exposed shoulders and firm breasts, within the sophistication of the blue gown. The pianist raised his hands to play, and I took my attention back to our performer.13

I listened quietly in the half-light, and I noticed not a soul stirred as the young man played with a grace and lightness rarely seen. The music flowed in a true cacophony of delicate sounds, light and dark in the air. Notes flew from the keyboard like magic as the fingers danced over the keys. The music moved on and painted a smooth, peaceful picture in the stillness. The crowd sat mesmerized.14

I watched with pleasure and I saw the woman watch too. She sat quietly, intent on the music cascading into the room. She watched the man with obvious admiration. I saw the soft pride on her face as she listened. I saw the musical notes alight in her eyes. She showed joy, as the keys flashed, so eloquently and so quickly.15

Her fingers kept the rhythm as they beat in perfect time on her dress. I almost heard the Tap! Tap! But the sound escaped me across the silence. Silent, that is, except for the music, which filled the room with a crescendo of sound, warming my heart and inviting the crowd’s pleasure.16

Was this a lover? Had she excited him because she was there and he was reacting as a young man to his soul mate? Was this the story of a young man in love with an older woman. Is this how he fell under her magic spell and played as if she was the only person in the room? I imagined all sorts of loving and romantic stories in a world of musical frenzy. My mind raced to keep in time as the music built to its final climax and the pianist finished with a flourish, before he stood and bowed to the room before him. I could see the happiness on his face, and I knew that he was pleased with his performance. However, he needed the approval of the woman in blue. She sat as though she was alone, listening devotedly and completely unaware of the people around her. He now glanced toward her.17

He turned to the watchful eyes and he asked, ‘Was that O.K., mother?”18

My wildest dreams were thrown out of the window. I blushed to myself in the noise of the tremendous applause which followed. I collected my still sleepy brother and I drove home.