Chapter 24: Ballet en Cinq Mouvements

I. Overture

Jer pulled his headphones off when he heard the phone. He could almost tell from the ring that it wasn't Richard's father, so he started to get up to answer.

"I'll get it," Richard said, moving quickly to the phone. Jer put his headphones back on, but paused the CD player until he heard who it was.

"Hello?" Richard said. "Hi Sandra! Made it to your house?"

Jer smiled. Richard's tone brightened up considerably. And why wouldn't it? If I was banging those two girls, I'd be happy to talk to them anytime.

Jer decided to listen to the one-sided conversation.

"Eh, missing the two of you already..." Richard said. "I went to dinner all alone. It sucked." Richard glanced quickly at Jer, but Jer kept his eyes on his score, pretending not to have heard. Earlier, Jer had asked Richard if he wanted to go to dinner, but he had glumly rejected the offer. Sounds like he should have come out after all...

"I know. I'll be all right. I wish you were here, but you two will have fun." Richard sat heavily into his desk chair.

"Yeah, it will be interesting to meet her family, and see where she lives. Someone told me she has a lot of money," he said.

"What are you two doing tonight?" Richard asked them.

"Me too. Not really in the mood to practice or do anything."

"Sure, put her on."

"Hi, Em," Richard said cheerily.

"Wow, really? Are they all relatives?" he asked.

Richard laughed. "Sounds like my family."

"You'll be fine."

Richard made a face. "Um, 'Sandra'?"

"I don't know."

"I don't know, Emily! Um ... Pumpkin?"

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Sandrine? Mm, I like that!"

Sandrine, Jer thought. What is he talking about?

"I might have to use that," Richard said.

"Okay."

"Yeah."

"Um, a little."

"A few more days and then what?" Richard asked them.

"What are we going to do?"

"Don't tell me that!" Out of the corner of his eye, Jer could see Richard adjusting his position in his chair, as his voice grew a little more excited.

"Oh god..." Richard said quietly.

"And... ?" he exclaimed.

"Things?"

"Like what?"

"You two are such..." Richard cast another glance at Jer, and then stopped.

"Um, nothing."

"No. I can't..."

"Yeah."

"Stop!"

Jer suppressed a grin. What a couple of teases...

"Okay, have fun!"

"Bye."

Richard hung up the phone, and shook his head with a smile. Those girls... , he thought.

Jer pulled his headphones off. "Who was it?" he asked.

"Oh, just Emily and Sandra checking in," Richard said, nonchalantly.

"Everything cool with them?"

"Yeah. Sounds like they're having a good time."

"Nice. When are they coming back?"

"Saturday night."

"Are you going to be in the room much after that?" Jer asked. It was more of a suggestion.

Richard frowned at him suspiciously. "I don't know, why?"

"Jenna's roommate is back that night too."

"Oh. So you're kicking me out?"

"No, but if you do have a place to stay..."

Richard laughed. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair."

"Hey, I know you're going to be up in their room that night anyway, so..."

Richard chuckled. "Yeah, it sounds that way."

The phone rang again.

"It's your Dad," Jer said immediately.

Richard reached for the receiver and then paused. Jer's probably right. Who else would be calling? Richard didn't answer. Sure enough, after the answering machine kicked in, Vittorio's voice came over the speaker in Italian.

"Hello, Riccardo." Vittorio paused for a very long moment. "You made me very happy today. Thank you. Zia Maria and Mama liked it too. I am so proud of you. Have a good dinner with your teacher. Call us when you can, my son. Ciao, Riccardo."

"What was that about?" Jer asked.

"Oh, nothing much," Richard replied, glad that Jer didn't understand Italian.

II. Vaganova

Richard checked himself in the mirror one last time. Take off the jacket, he thought. No, leave it. It is Thanksgiving. The tie was too much, though, so he removed it and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.

Irina hadn't been much help when he asked how to dress. "However you like," she had said. After sifting through his closet, and consulting with Sandra and Emily before they left, he had decided on a suit.

As he was on the verge of replacing his tie, he decided to quit the mirror and wait for Irina's husband down in the lobby. Otherwise he'd end up wearing something completely different.

The dorm was deserted. Apart from Jer and a handful of others, everyone had gone away for the weekend. Richard had his room to himself for the most part, since Jenna had stayed behind and her roommate hadn't.

As Richard sat on an easy chair looking out at the parking lot, he wondered what to expect at his teacher's house. He hadn't asked if any of her other students would be there, but assumed that there would be some.

Will I have to play something? He didn't know many of the other students in the studio yet. He'd chatted with a few, but only superficially. All the pianists in Mrs. Tertychnaya's studio were invariably excellent. One had recently won a major competition and was going to be performing with the Los Angeles Philharmonic the next fall.

A car pulled into the lot in front of the dorm, and Richard went outside. Even if it was not Harvey, he was getting restless. It was unseasonably warm out, Richard noted, and he adjusted his jacket.

A man in his late fifties got out of the passenger side of the car and immediately waved to Richard. I guess that's him, Richard thought. He was dressed casually, and Richard wondered if he should ask about the suit.

"Hello, Richard. Harvey," he said, extending his hand.

Richard shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"Hate to hurry you, but I have the food cooking back at the house. It's a bit of a drive, I'm afraid. Shall we?"

"I'm ready," Richard said.

Harvey headed to the car door he had exited from. Richard looked into the windshield and saw no driver, and then realized the wheel was on the right. Richard slid into the passenger seat. "Neat car. What is it?"

"Gordon Keeble. Made in England in 1965."

"Cool."

"Nothing fancy, but it's a nice little GT."

"Do you collect cars?"

The Keeble's engine fired up and Harvey guided it out of the lot.

"Among other things, yes. I am a collector," Harvey said, grinning over at him. "Hope you're hungry!"

If Richard had guessed at what Irina and Harvey's house looked like, he would have been wrong. The first thing that struck him was the barn which served as a large, open garage. Instead of horses, the modified pens each held an automobile in them. The early afternoon sun came in through a series of skylights, casting a gleam on shiny fenders and headlights.

"Wow," Richard said quietly.

"One of my homes away from home," Harvey said, chuckling. "I'll suggest postponing a tour until later, if you are interested. For now, we should go inside so I can check on the meal."

Richard glanced briefly at each car as they walked to the front doors of the barn.

"I'd love a tour later," he said.

The house was large and classic in style, and Richard was glad he had worn a suit. As they entered the foyer, he heard piano music being played. Someone was playing the Chopin Opus 45 Prelude. And beautifully...

Richard grew a little anxious, hoping the day would not be spent around the piano. With his technique being rebuilt by Mrs. Tertychnaya, he was in an awkward place for demonstrating his abilities.

Harvey hummed along with the music for a moment.

"Irina will be by the piano, of course," he said quietly, as he led Richard into the house. Besides an enticing aroma of food cooking, Richard noticed paintings on every part of the walls in the house. It was like the art museum, but more dense in content. Sculptures stood here and there on pedestals or end tables.

In the living room, Richard saw two grand pianos interlocked, and was surprised to see Mrs. Tertychnaya playing one of them. With her back to them, she didn't hear their approach. Harvey walked up behind her and reached his hand in to the keyboard to play a high note, just as she went to play it.

Harvey laughed when she grabbed his wrist and tried to play the rest of the phrase. It didn't work so well.

"Richard is here," he said, when Irina stopped playing with a laugh.

"I know. I saw you in the reflection. Hello, Riccardo."

"Hello. Nice house," he said, indicating the artwork.

Irina waved her arms, indicating the area around the pianos. "This is my house. Everything else is Harvey's."

Harvey chuckled. "I must attend to lunch," he suddenly said, checking his watch. "Would you care for something to drink?"

Richard nodded. "Sure."

"Let's adjourn to the kitchen, then," Harvey said. "We can talk there."

The kitchen smelled incredible, a concentration of the aromas that permeated the rest of the house. He could almost taste the food just by breathing.

Hanging throughout the kitchen were dozens and dozens of wooden spoons of all shapes and sizes, including a six-foot long specimen perched above the arch door.

"You weren't kidding when you said you collected things," Richard said.

"Ah, yes. I suppose you noticed the spoons," Harvey said.

Richard tried to suppress a laugh, but it came out a little. How can one not notice!

"Yeah. I don't think I've seen that many spoons in one place."

"I am a bit of an obsessive collector, a fact with which I'm sure Irina would agree with me."

"I don't know why he has so many," Irina said, laughing.

"Do you use them?"

"Many of them," Harvey said. "That large one, not so often," he added, pointing to the behemoth spoon.

"Are they rare spoons? Collector spoons?" Richard asked, somewhat intrigued.

Harvey just laughed.

"No, they are not," Irina said.

"Well, if someone collects something, I suppose they are collector's items," Richard mused.

Irina chuckled. "It sounds like you have found a new friend, Harvey. Or you taught him this act on the way here!"

Harvey put on a face of mock hurt as he stirred a pot with a wooden spoon. "Nothing of the sort. He simply appreciates the collection!" He turned to Richard, holding aloft the spoon in his hand. "All of these have a story."

"Yet, that is the only one you use," Irina said, pointing to the one in his hand.

Harvey looked at the spoon in his hand thoughtfully. "Well, it is a good spoon."

"And what's the story behind that one?" Richard asked. The amiable back-and-forth between his teacher and her husband presented a new side of Mrs. Tertychnaya Richard had not seen.

Harvey seemed momentarily flustered. "I can't recall," he said vaguely.

"He bought it at a supermarket," Irina said simply.

"Ah, but it was a gourmet supermarket," Harvey said, recovering quickly.

Richard laughed, feeling more comfortable now.

He heard the clicking of shoes in the hallway, and turned to see a striking black-haired woman enter the kitchen. It's Mrs. T., twenty years ago! Richard thought. But with stronger features ... Following behind was a teenage girl, who bore more of a resemblance to Harvey.

"Come, girls. This is Richard, one of my students," Irina said. "My daughters, Viktoriya and Nadia. They will be joining us for dinner."

Richard nodded, unsure whether to extend his hand. Viktoriya smiled disarmingly and extended hers. With his suit on, and her fine dark red dress, he felt like he should kiss her hand, not shake it. He wasn't that bold.

"Hello, Richard," she said in perfect, crisp English.

"Hello."

Nadia extended her hand as well and then went to stir the pot.

"I almost forgot I was getting drinks," Harvey said. "Viktoriya, Nadia, would you like some wine?"

"Yes, please," they said.

"Richard?"

"Uh, sure, thanks." He figured that if Harvey had offered, there was no problem. Besides, Nadia couldn't be older than he was.

Harvey pulled five glasses from a hanging rack and then opened a bottle of red wine. He poured some in each glass and then passed them out.

"Welcome," he said, holding his glass up towards Richard.

Richard nodded and thanked them for having him.

"Well, since we're all here," Harvey said magnanimously, "I suggest we proceed to the dining table."

Some hours later, Richard was fully sated. The meal had been outstanding. There had been no turkey and stuffing, but rather an assortment of recipes Harvey had collected from the countries he had visited (and there were many). He could not remember having eaten so many tasty and different dishes all in one sitting.

Nadia, the younger daughter, had left for a friend's house shortly after dessert, but Viktoriya, Irina and Harvey had remained at the table and talked for a long time.

The more Richard got to know him, the more he liked Harvey. There was an outward optimism to his person that was infectious, and yet he also spoke like a man of intensity and thought, so that his optimism was not unfounded. At one point, Richard realized he had no idea what Harvey actually did.

"What is your work, Harvey?" Richard asked. He had tried calling him Mr. Mitchell, but Harvey wouldn't have it.

"My work? Well..." He seemed to stare off into space for a moment. "I don't know. For sure, I collect spoons," he began. Everyone at the table laughed. "But really, I don't do all that much. I collect things, paint a little, drive my cars ... Cook."

Richard nodded, still not sure what he did.

Viktoriya looked at him, her eyes bright. "Richard, will you play the piano for us?"

Richard glanced at Irina. "Now?"

"Please. I'd love to hear you play," Viktoriya pressed.

"Uh, well ... Okay." Richard sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts. I wonder if this is really a good idea...

Irina stood up and smiled. "Since you cooked, Harvey, I will clean up. Please, enjoy Richard's playing."

She began to clear the table settings, so Richard got up and moved to the pianos, somewhat relieved. He wasn't sure he'd be all that great after all the food and wine, but not having Mrs. T. right there would lessen the pressure.

"Which piano should I play?" he asked.

"This one," Harvey said, indicating the one Irina had been playing earlier. "We can watch you play from the couch."

Harvey and Viktoriya made themselves comfortable on the couch near the piano, while Richard adjusted the bench, wondering what to perform for them.

"Do you want to hear anything in particular?" Richard said, stalling.

"Oh, he takes requests!" Harvey said amiably to Viktoriya. "Oiseax tristes?" he suggested.

Richard flinched and laughed nervously. "Don't know that one," he admitted. "Shouldn't have asked for requests, I guess."

"I was just giving you a difficult time of it," Harvey said, laughing. "Play what you like."

"I'm sure it will be lovely," Viktoriya added.

Richard suddenly felt very self-conscious at having the husband and daughter of one of the best pianists in the world sitting ten feet away, waiting for a private concert.

Richard figured he'd start with the Liszt. Usually, the technical brilliance of the piece more than overshadowed any mistakes, for the casual listener. Then again, these are hardly casual listeners, Richard reminded himself, as he set his hands in position on the keys.

From the kitchen, Irina heard the opening octaves sound throughout the house. She smiled, having guessed correctly which piece he would choose. It was his comfort piece right now. She had demanded the least changes in his technique for this piece, preferring to move to new material to unlock the new methods she was showing him.

Considering the situation, he was performing very well. There was an urgency, and even a flair in the playing, that caught her attention. She peeked out of the kitchen and caught Harvey's eye. He nodded, impressed. Irina smiled back at him.

Richard became more immersed in the playing with each passing minute. His posture changed as his body responded to the intensity of his concentration.

Irina noticed Viktoriya watching Richard intently. Her eyes took in his hands as they moved all across the keys. Earlier, at lunch, she had spoken to Richard many times about music, which had surprised Irina somewhat. Viktoriya had never shown more than an passing interest in playing piano, or in its methods. Yet at the table she had been fascinated by discussing specific pieces of music with Richard. Either she had been learning about piano repertoire, or something else was involved.

Irina wasn't concerned. Viktoriya was old enough to take care of herself. If she found Richard interesting, then things would happen as they might. One of the other piano faculty members at Wexford often said there was no faster way to loosen up creativity in music than to find a lover.

Irina chuckled as she returned to the kitchen. She was fairly certain Richard had two lovers already. If Viktoriya...

Irina shrugged the thought aside. Viktoriya was only here for a few days. Irina had not invited Richard over to make a match with her daughter. I've been letting Harvey talk too much, she thought, smiling.

Richard finished the piece, and the low, final chord resonated for what seemed like an hour. Harvey and Viktoriya clapped heartily, and he turned to them, somewhat pleased. He had played much better than he had expected.

Viktoriya flashed him a winning smile, and Harvey nodded in appreciation.

"Excellent, Richard, truly excellent," he said sincerely.

"Yes, quite. Will you play another?" Viktoriya asked.

Richard nodded. "Sure. This is a movement from Beethoven."

Richard suddenly felt a surge of elation as he turned to the keys again. He could sense that they weren't just complimenting him out of politeness, but rather, they had really enjoyed his playing!

Richard calmed himself before beginning the opening theme. The chords brought him back several months, to the Wexford practice room where he had played this piece for Sandra and Emily. It was the first thing he had ever played for them, and he had discovered that night both the voices within the music and the love within his friends. It seemed ages ago, and yet he could still remember every moment of that evening, from the sudden discovery of the phrasing of the piece to the ethereal night back in the girls' room.

He wondered what the girls were up to.

For a moment, he forgot where he was, and then he caught sight of Irina sitting down beside Harvey on the couch. He swept the memories from his mind, and returned to the music at his hands. Feeling confident after the Liszt, he decided to try and play the piece with as much beauty as he could manage.

Sunset light was filtering in through the skylights of the barn when Harvey showed Richard the last automobile on the tour.

"That's a serious collection, Harvey," Richard said.

"They've come and gone, throughout the years. But it is fun to have these at my disposal. Would you care for some tea?" Harvey asked, as they walked back along the automobiles.

"Tea? Sure, I'll have a cup."

Harvey led him to the corner of the barn, where an old wooden table and some chairs rested on a rug in front of a small kitchen area. A cupboard hung against the wall. Harvey threw it open, revealing a multitude of jars and boxes, stacked along with various cups and pots.

"What do you like?" Harvey asked. "I have all kinds of interesting teas."

"I'm not much of a tea drinker, so I don't know."

"Hmm..." Harvey hummed as he looked at the teas. "My choice, then?"

"Well, I'm up for something I've never had before," Richard said, feeling adventurous.

"That's the spirit," Harvey said. He selected a paper wrapped box from a shelf and set it on the table, and then took out two Chinese cups and a matching pot.

"Have a seat. I'll get the water going."

Richard sat in a chair, finding it surprisingly comfortable for hardwood.

"There will be some other guests coming to the house this evening," Harvey said, as he lit a gas burner and set a kettle of water on it. "You are welcome to stay. But, if you would prefer to go back to the conservatory, I can take you after have we have our tea."

"I don't have any plans for the evening," Richard said, "so I'd be happy to stay."

"Excellent. A couple of other students of Irina's will be here. Do you know Eric and Zhu-Ling?"

"I've met Eric," Richard said. "I don't really know them, though."

"Zhu-Ling goes by Julie. Well, they will be here, and some friends of Irina's and mine will be coming as well."

Harvey came and sat as the water began to heat up. He opened the box, revealing a block of dark, dry tea leaves. One corner was missing.

"This is Puer tea, from China. A wonderful and rare tea. I'd guess you have not tried it before?"

Richard eyed the block of tea. "No, I think it's safe to say I haven't. I've never seen tea like that."

"This was harvested and dried before you were born. In fact, long before I was born."

Harvey used a pick to remove some leaves from the corner of the block, and dropped them into the pot. From the burner, the tea kettle began making noise.

"Where did you get this tea?"

"In China," Harvey said, as he returned to the table with the kettle. "This is my second block. The first one took some coaxing, but now I have an in with the mother in the family, heh heh."

Harvey poured the water into the pot and closed the lid.

"Now we wait a few minutes," he said, smiling warmly.

Richard felt a wave of pleasure as he caught the aroma of the tea in the air. He was completely at ease around Harvey. There was something about the way Harvey lived which was so unfettered. Richard could imagine him finding pleasure even in the hardest of times.

"So you never really said what you did for a living," Richard said.

"Ah, but I did. I am a collector."

"Art?"

"Primarily, yes," Harvey said. "Have you been to the art museum?"

"Yes, during orientation we went."

"I was involved with acquiring a number of the pieces that you see there."

"Really?"

"Yes. Particularly in the contemporary wing. Here," Harvey said, pouring the tea into Richard's cup, and then into his own. "Best drunk as hot as you can stand it."

Richard took the cup into his hand and breathed in the aroma. It was earthy and thick. It was still too hot, so he waited.

Harvey took a sip of his. "Ahh. There's an ancient Chinese poem about tea, about seven cups. The poet describes the feelings he gets with each cup. For me, this tea brings out those feelings. Let the tea do its work."

Richard put the teacup to his lips and drank. The temperature was just bearable. He swallowed it quickly before it burned his mouth, and then felt the hot liquid coat his insides as it traveled to his stomach.

"That's different," Richard said.

Harvey chuckled. "Not quite Earl Grey, no."

"It tastes like ... the earth."

"Yes, like dirt, even!"

"Yeah, but it's not bad."

"The flavors will continue to change as we go," Harvey said. "Each cup also gets a little stronger."

Richard and Harvey sat in silence as they finished their first cup. There was an almost reverent feeling in the evening air, Richard thought.

"Do you paint?" Richard asked.

"Yes, I dabble in it."

"Do you have a studio in the house?"

"Yes, actually. On the far end. I can show you after we finish our tea."

"Cool. So how did you meet Mrs. Tertychnaya?"

"We met in Russia. I was there to dig up some art pieces, and happened to meet her through that. Thirty years ago, it was."

"Was she touring all over the world by then?"

"No, not quite," Harvey smiled. "She was still in conservatory at the time. But, she was already a fabulous pianist. I'll never forget the first time I heard her play for me in a practice room of the conservatory, shortly after we met. The hairs on my arm still stand up when I think of it."

Richard smiled, picturing a scene similar to his own first performance for Emily and Sandra.

"There's a power in playing music well, Richard. That was excellent playing earlier."

"Thanks," Richard said.

"There's nothing quite like it. Unlike a painting, music moves through time, and therefore you can shape the listener as you go. It is perhaps more like watching a sculptor at work, than seeing the final piece," Harvey mused. "And when you can do it well, people will be at your feet."

Richard said nothing, and drank his tea. He was feeling like the tea was cleansing his body. Warm ripples of energy swept up and down his body and limbs.

"On to the next cup?" Harvey said, as he lifted the teapot.

"Sure," Richard said. "What happens after the seventh?"

Harvey smiled. "You become immortal."

Richard made his way to the bathroom, somewhat unsteadily. The wine was thick in his head, and the noise of conversation still lingered in his ears as he closed the door and set his wine glass on the bathroom vanity.

After finishing the seventh cup of tea, Richard had felt refreshed, having journeyed through a series of states that made him wonder what was actually in the tea. Then, immortality secured, Harvey and he had moved to the art studio.

Richard knew that Harvey didn't just dabble. Even Richard's untrained eye could appreciate the quality of the paintings. Several of the canvases were of nude dark-haired women, and even though Richard was somewhat embarrassed to look at them, he also wondered if they were of Irina.

The arrival of guests had interrupted the art studio tour. The next several hours had passed in a blur of wine and music. Richard often found himself at one of the pianos, sight reading music for two pianos with Eric or Julie, while the other guests watched. Among those in attendance were the director of the art museum and her husband, as well as several musicians from the orchestra. Eventually some twenty-five people were partying around the pianos as the musicians present took turns at the keys. Even though the atmosphere was very festive and informal, Richard found that the wine helped take away the nerves from being among such prominent musicians and guests.

Now he wondered what seven glasses of wine brought. A headache, he thought.

Richard splashed some water on his face, and then exited the bathroom. Instead of returning to the boisterous living room, he wandered down the hallway, looking at the small paintings that hung on the walls.

"Hello, Richard."

Viktoriya was standing in the hallway behind him, with a wine glass in hand. Richard eyed her for a moment, standing there in her dark red dress, and suddenly he realized who had been the subject of the paintings he had seen in Harvey's studio.

"Hi."

"Are you having fun?" she asked.

"Yeah, for sure."

"You look a little worn out," Viktoriya said, smiling slightly.

Richard shrugged. "Too much playing."

"It's also very loud with all those people in the room."

"Yeah, I know what you mean! I came back here for a little break."

"Before you go show off again?" Viktoriya asked playfully.

"Show off?" Richard raised a brow, laughing. "Hardly."

Viktoriya smiled warmly. "I was going to get some air. It is so warm outside, for November. Will you join me?"

"Uh, well, okay."

Viktoriya walked towards Richard, keeping her gaze and smile on him. Richard tensed up for a second, wondering what she was doing, but then she walked past him.

"Come this way."

Richard followed, unable to keep his eyes off of Viktoriya walking before him. Her legs ... they were edible. At the same time, he wondered what he was getting into. He had hit it off with her at the dinner table, talking about music. She also really enjoyed my playing, apparently! Showing off?

Viktoriya turned the corner and then went out a side door of the house. Richard stepped out onto a stone balcony overlooking a hillside garden below. The starry night and bright moon lit the scene in a silvery glow. It was classically romantic.

Richard wished he was there with Sandra and Emily. He wondered what they were up to. They might be looking at the moon right then, just as he was.

"This is beautiful," Richard said, gazing out at the night garden. "Who keeps the garden up?"

"My mother."

"Really? I didn't know she did anything other than play piano," Richard said, laughing a little.