Date: Sat, 11 Dec 2004 23:18:40 -0500 (EST)
From: "seanr_13@yahoo.ca" <seanr_13@yahoo.ca>
Subject: The Missing Piece of a Piano - 2

The Missing Piece of a Piano
By: Sean Roberts

Author's Note: I hope you're enjoying it so far, please drop me a line
to let me know what you think - seanr_13@yahoo.ca

Bar 2

He regrets his choice of car when he enters the school
parking lot.  His large, black SUV sharply contrasts with the
variety of old, faded Chevrolets and Fords that make up the
parking lot.  He climbs out, knowing they are watching him.  He
lights a cigarette and smokes it leaning against his car.

He avoids making eye contact with anybody.  He is
embarrassed, too, about how he is dressed.  Earlier this morning
he decided to look his best for his first day at school, so he
put on neatly ironed khaki pants and a crisp, buttoned shirt.
Around him he sees faded jeans and old t-shirts.  He knows that
most of the people in the town are rich; they live, like him, in
large houses.  It is a small town lived in mostly by those who
can afford to get away from the city.  They dress the way they
do because they are relaxed.  The inexpensive cars are driven by
those who attend the school from neighbouring towns.

He finds the vice principal who welcomes him.  The school,
surprisingly, is as large as he is used to.  The size is the
result of the fact that it is shared by the neighbouring town.
He sits in the vice principal's office.  She too is wearing
jeans.

They play with his time-table, trying to fit in the six
subjects he needs to graduate.  But there are conflicts.  She
tells him that they can be resolved if he takes music, but he
refuses.

"Listen," she says finally.  She is becoming frustrated
because Daniel is being polite but at the same time refusing to
budge on the issue of taking music.  "If you can't play, I'll
talk to Mr. Klein--he's the music teacher--he'd be happy to give
you extra lessons, and you wouldn't be expected to catch up with
the rest of the class to get a good grade."

"It's not that I can't play," he says.  "It's that I don't
want to."  Daniel makes sure to maintain the civility in his
voice, knowing that he is walking on a thin line.  "There has to
be something else I can take."

"There is.  But you'll be giving up three subjects you told
me you really want to take."  He takes another look at the
computer screen which has a five subject schedule.  Then he
sighs.  He agrees to take the class.  She punches in a code and
it shows up after lunch.  The school runs on a four-day system,
so he has music every other day, starting today.

He enters the music room.  Rows of chairs and music stands
are set up in a semi circle.  A music stand, facing the room,
stands in the front.  Off to the side is a large desk and at the
back of the room, on Daniel's right, is a piano.  He has come
early to meet the teacher.  Mr. Klein, a short, bald man, is
sitting at his desk.  Behind him are large cupboards, obviously
containing instruments.

"Daniel, right?" he says, looking up.  Daniel nods and
walks over to him.  "Mrs. Victoria said I had a new student this
year.  Welcome."  He stands and reaches out his hand.  "I'm Mr.
Klein, it's nice to meet you."  He shakes Daniel's hand.  Daniel
is surprised; in the city teachers did not introduce themselves
in such a friendly or formal way.  "So, Daniel, what do you
play?"

"Well, I can play the violin and the piano, but I'd really
rather learn something new.  I know how to read music, so I
don't think it would be too hard for me to pick something up.  I
was thinking maybe the clarinet or something."  Daniel does not
really care to learn a different instrument, but he is scared to
touch any of the ones he has been avoiding for so long.

"Oh, of course, Daniel," Mr. Klein says, sounding
disappointed.  "Anything you want.  But, since you mentioned
that you can play the piano, can I ask how well?"

"Oh, umm ... okay I guess, but I tend to make a lot of
mistakes."

"Well everybody makes mistakes," he says dismissively.
That wouldn't change with a new instrument you know?  Of course
with practice ... the thing is Daniel, every year we do a
concert at the end.  That's what we work towards all year.  And
our pianist, Faye, she's very good but she usually isn't able to
learn more than two pieces.  For that matter neither is anybody
else.  But I was actually hoping to do four this year.  And if
you were able to do two of them, with the piano, it would be
really great!  See I can split the rest of the class into two
parts and still keep all the instruments in each piece.  We just
don't have a pianist."  Daniel wants to say no but the expectant
look on Mr. Klein's face is something that can not be argued
with.

"Well, I guess I could, but like I said I'm not that good ..."

"Here, come over to the piano."  Mr. Klein's face gleams
and his step lightens as he goes to a filing cabinet behind his
desk.  He brings over a piece of music.  "This Bach is one of
the pieces we're doing.  Just try the first few bars so I can
see how you are.  It is a bit complex, so take your time."
Daniel swallows.  He lifts the cover and looks at the keys.

When he became better with the piano, Daniel stopped seeing
keys and began to see only fingerings.  When he was even more
familiar, he stopped seeing altogether and he heard only music
in his mind as he stared at notes and touched the keys.  He
places his hands over the keys, beginning at middle C and
looking at the music to see where to move them before pressing
down.  He reads the music and his fingers glide along the keys,
one note after another.  But there is no sound; he is un-able to
press the keys and make the music live.

"You'll have to do it a bit harder than that," Mr. Klein
says cheerfully.  Daniel looks up and smiles sheepishly.  He
tells himself he has to play.  He presses the first note, then
the second, slowly.  There is a familiarity to these notes--he
has heard the piece before.  The melody catches in his head and
from the third note he starts to play at the right tempo.  He
plays the first few bars well, then he reaches the middle of the
fifth and catches a mistake.  He stops playing immediately.  He
waits to feel hands on his shoulders; to hear a voice telling
him that he made a mistake.  When he receives none of this he
looks around frantically before remembering where he is, before
realizing once again that Keith is not with him.  But now,
standing beside him, is a girl.

Daniel skips a breath when he sees her.  She is
significantly taller than he is, and much skinnier.  But she is
beautiful.  She has cat like brown eyes; and very light brown
hair that she has tied into a messy bun resembling fireworks.
Her nose is long and nicely rounded at the end.  She wears a
hockey jersey and black track pants.  She smiles when she
catches his eyes.  "Faye, meet our new, very talented pianist,"
says Mr. Klein proudly.  "Daniel."  Daniel stands up to shake
her hand and the teacher walks off happily to talk to other
members of the class who are just arriving.

Mr. Klein has selected the Bach, a Mozart, a Beethoven and
a Tchaikovsky for the concert.  He has told Daniel and Faye to
work out who wants to play what.  "Not the Beethoven," Daniel
says quickly.  He knows the piece and he knows that he will not
be able to handle the memories it would bring back.

"Umm, okay," she says, surprised at his determination to
not play that piece.

"Sorry.  It's just that ... you can pick the rest, I just
really don't want to do that one."

"Oh that's okay!" she says happily.  "It doesn't really
matter to me actually.  I'm just glad I don't have to do all
four!  There's going to be so much more homework now that it's
our final year, and I don't think I could handle learning four
pieces on top of that.  Well, look, you did the Bach really well
just now, so why don't you keep that one.  And the Tchaikovsky
looks okay, I guess I'll do that one.  So are you okay with the
Mozart?"

"Yes, fine.  That sounds good."

"Perfect."  She finds his two pieces from the four Mr.
Klein gave her and hands them to Daniel.  He takes them and
smiles.  Then, to his relief, Mr. Klein announces that they are
going to start off the year practicing the Tchaikovsky.

*

He goes to the school library, just after class.  A very
short woman with large, maroon glasses is reading a book behind
the counter.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" she says sharply.

"Hi.  Umm, I was wondering if you had any music."

"Music?"

"Yes, you know, music."

"I'm afraid not.  You'll have to try the music store."

"Oh.  No.  I meant scores.  That I can read."

"Oh," she says, stunned at the unusual request.  "I'm
afraid we don't.  But the local library should be able to help
you.  I'm pretty sure they have some."

"Okay.  Thanks.  Umm, could you tell me how to get there?"

"Yes.  Make a right out of the school.  Follow the road for
three blocks, then make a left.  You'll see a sign."

He thanks her and leaves.  The summer weather has not yet
gone, and he enjoys the drive.  He savours the areas of forest
he passes, something very rare in the city.  He turns left and
drives past the library, his mind processing the sign only after
he has read it.  If it were written in notes, it would have
registered immediately.  He did not recognize it because the
building is designed like a house.  When he pulls in he notices
that the garden in the front is nicely landscaped.  A small,
white sign with red paint sits on the surrounding fence.

He does not know what to expect when he goes inside.  He
finds the building large for a library, especially one in such a
small town.

He walks through the front door, into a large room.  He
smells fresh wood.  The counter is on his right; and to his left
and beyond are shelves and desks arranged in a seemingly
haphazard way.  The walls that used to be a part of the house
have now been demolished.  In the centre of the room he sees
stairs leading up and another set leading down.  A tall woman in
a white dress with coloured flowers stands behind the counter.
She looks like she is in her fifties.  She has sharp features,
beautiful skin, and a smile.

"Hello there," she says kindly.  "I'm Doris.  Is there
something I can help you with?"

"Hi, I'm Daniel.  And I was actually looking for some
music."

"Oh.  I think you'll have to try the music store.  We don't
have any ..."

"No," he interrupts, having heard the objection before.
"I'm looking for scores.  To read.  Someone told me there might
be some here."

"Oh!  Yes just go downstairs.  We haven't finished building
the basement yet, so you'll have to excuse it.  But all of the
sheet music is there, and organized alphabetically by composer.
The lighting is a bit dim.  There are lots of desks on this
floor though, and upstairs.  Just so you know you can't borrow
any music, it has to stay in the library.  But if there's
something you'd like I can always copy it for you."

"Oh, thank you very much," he says, heading towards the
stairs.

"Oh, Daniel, was it?"

"Yes."  He stops.

"Just between you and me, it usually isn't too busy in
here, so if you ever wanted to bring in your instrument and play
something, it shouldn't be too much of a problem.  What do you
play by the way?"

"The piano."  Doris laughs.

"Well I guess you won't be doing that then.  I won't keep
you any longer.  But before you go, just scribble down your
name, address and phone number and I'll have a card made up for
you.  You can just pick it up on your way out."  Daniel smiles
and writes down the information before heading downstairs.

Like the main floor, the walls have been ripped out.  The
floor, however, is still concrete, not hard wood like the rest
of the house.  Dim, forty watt bulbs hang from the ceiling,
providing almost no light.  Along the walls, modern looking
filing cabinets with letters contain scores upon scores of
music.  More so, even, than the large library he used to
frequent in the city.  He smiles as he looks through Bach's
folder and sees the number and variety of pieces housed in the
dreary room.

He picks out a score to read.  He does not think about the
fact that he will have to start playing again.  He has already
forgotten about his earlier attempt at the piano.  Nothing has
changed.  He reads the piece, the music playing in his mind.
This is all he needs; it is all he wants.  He wants to get more
from music--to hear it and to play it--but only with his lover
sharing this pleasure with him.