Chapter 4

I had all afternoon to kill. For that matter, probably Sunday morning and afternoon, too. Who knows what time a ‘weekend of fun’ ends.

Since I left my Chopin and Liszt in the building lobby, I went down to retrieve them. Shit! They were gone. Maybe the two L.O.L.s had them. Where were they again? Fifth floor. I’d just knock on all the doors and ask whoever answered, “Excuse me, but do you have my Liszt?”

That wouldn’t work. I wandered over to the mail boxes. Ah! Second name on #510: L.Resnikova. I took the elevator to the fifth floor and soon enough, was pushing the bell for 510. Someone looked through the peephole and I heard chains and locks being undone.

“There you are, Mark,” said Gladys. “Come in, come in.”

I was in the entryway of a condo that was the mirror image of mine. Different furnishings, of course. This was done in ‘old ladies living with a cat.’

“Who is it, Gladys?” That was Luddy’s voice. Strong alto voice, attached to a rather frail old woman. “Oh, good. I was hoping you’d stop by. I hope you don’t mind, I was playing some of the Mazurkas. They were always my favorite. But here.” She gathered the Chopin volume and quickly pushed it at me, along with the Liszt. “You must need it more than I do. I must say the editor has some strange fingerings. Or maybe my old fingers don’t stretch as much as they used to. I have to cheat on most of the left-hand chords.”

I stepped over to the Steinway upright that was against the wall. “I’m so glad that somebody scooped up the music. Thought I might have to get another copy. Those editions are probably out of print ... This ol’ gal is never going to go out of style.” I patted the piano, lovingly.

“Would you like some sweet tea, Mark?” said Gladys, ever the genteel hostess.

“Play the ‘Waterfall etude’ for us, Mark. I do so like to hear someone who can play,” said Luddy.

“Heh. You said I should play it slower. I don’t know if I can. I used to play it as an encore, and it’s in my muscle memory, now. A little rusty, but it’s in there ... No thanks, on the tea, Gladys.”

“Well, get the sheet music and read it as if you never saw it before,” said Luddy. “But I meant play it a LOT slower. Nothing like concert speed.” She squinted at me. “How long was it that you haven’t played?”

“You are still a teacher, aren’t you?” I took the Chopin book and thumbed to the Etude. “About 14 years.”

“I’m afraid I am. Sorry, I’m a bit of a busybody these days. I noticed that you’ve been chewing your fingernails. You must stop that. Bad habit. You might accidentally tear a nail, and it would interfere with your practice.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I laughed. “As it happens, I bought a new piano just yesterday. It’s all electric with headphones, so I won’t bother my wife.”

I propped open the book and started the Etude at a very slow speed.

“No, no,” said my teacher. “Pick a speed and play it all at an even tempo. Don’t speed up on the arpeggios. No pedals ... I’m sorry. There I go again. Don’t mind me, play it any way you like.”

“The arpeggios were always easy for me. And I have big hands, so I could reach the chords easily. Probably that’s why it’s my favorite,” I said, trying to read the printed music instead of relying on my memorization.

She dragged over a chair and set it off to my right. Just as my piano teacher did all those years ago.

I finally got through the piece at the slow speed.

“Now play it at the speed you prefer. Tell me about your job, or your wife, or your children. The distraction will help you let the music play itself, without you over thinking it.

“Well, my job then. I’m an adjudicator for the DOJ. When people have a dispute and they can’t solve it, but don’t want to go to court, they come to us. And...” I went on and on, and Luddy’s distraction technique worked. I was through the piece without even thinking.

“That’s better. Now take this back to your new piano, and practice. Play it slowly. Then play something else. Only then should you play it as if it’s your favorite piece of music. Concentrate on the music. Focus on it and block out the world. Now get. I’ll bet your wife is wondering where you are.”

That wiped the happy expression off my face. “Probably not.” I whispered to myself. “But I must get back. Thank you so much for taking care of my Frederic and Franz for me.”

“Glad to be of help,” said Gladys. “And thank you for waking up Luddy’s old piano.”

“See you next weekend, I hope,” said Ludmila Resnikova. She turned to her flat-mate and whispered, so I barely heard her, “Did you see the change in his attitude when I mentioned his wife. There’s trouble there.”

I was out in the hall, and took the elevator down two flights. Key in the door of my apartment; tossed the key ring in the bowl by the door. I went to the bedroom and stripped the bed, and washed the sheets. Beats me why that idea entered my head.

Then I wandered into my office, flicked on the radio, and picked up my Kindle. Normally, I only read the e-book at lunch time. The novel was about a Japanese assassin, whose specialty was killing people and making the death look like natural causes. A pacemaker suddenly stopping, someone stumbling on a crowded subway platform, a fall in a public bathroom. I wondered how long I’d have to study Judo to learn to do that kind of stuff. Could I stay married that long? Probably not.

I’d never read for such a long time. Dinner was a salad from ‘Greens to Go.’ I browsed the internet and found some suggestions for what kind of exercises to start with.

Mostly, I read about the Japanese assassin, fantasized about strangling Kathy, and watched the March Madness basketball game between North Carolina State and Stanford. I fell asleep before the end, so I didn’t see NC State win in a close finish.

I woke up in the middle of the night and played the piano. I read through Beethoven’s Appassionata Sonata. First time for me, but I played it about ¼ of the normal tempo and still made lots of mistakes. It took me a good hour to chew through one of the piano’s masterpieces. It wasn’t ready for Luddy’s ear, yet. But there were sections that convinced me that I could play it like Van Cliburn. Problem was he didn’t play Beethoven much. And he was dead. So my piano hero list needed an update.

But it cleared my mind and I went to bed thinking of uh-Crystal’s face fuck. Sometime during the night it turned into Kathy. Then it turned into Bitch, reminding me how big Lucas was. I slept ‘til 10:40.

I was running possible conversations all day. Finally, about 1:00 I had to decide whether I should head for the condo’s workout room, or go to The Happy Pig for their Sunday brunch. I decided that the workout room would still be there tomorrow, but the Pig only had brunch on Sundays.

I put on my headphones and practiced the Chopin as Luddy suggested. By the time I finished the 2^nd run through, I thought it sounded decent. Not great, but I wouldn’t be embarrassed to play it for someone. My hands were tired and I leaned forward to rest my head on the piano. Both hands were dangling down and almost touching the ground.

There was a knock on the piano, and I looked up to see Kathy standing there in her ‘casual, weekend’ clothes: 4” heels, pale green trousers with a high waist and long legs that came down to her shoe tops, and a pale whitish (I don’t DO off-white colors) blouse.

I took off my headphones. “Hi. You’re back I see.”