Chapter 5: Sonata

Movement I.

Practice was difficult for Richard the next morning. Besides having somewhat of a headache, he had trouble finding a practice room. The piano in the one he finally secured was mediocre. It sounded somewhat muffled no matter how he tried to coax any tone out of it.

Usually he could have dealt with the limitations of the instrument, and made progress on some technical passages or finger work. But unfortunately his mind was continuously drifting off. The events of the previous night were replaying in his mind like a looped videotape.

He stood to stretch, and tried to clear his head. Obviously that was no friendly goodnight kiss Emily had given him last night.

But what was the meaning of her shushing gesture? Did she not want to disturb Sandra, or does she not want Sandra to know at all? But then she massaged Sandra's head too. And what of Sandra, pulling aside her straps? Clearly she was very much enjoying my massage! It almost felt like an invitation to touch her more. She hung in my arms forever when we hugged goodnight. And then her peck on my lips was overly friendly, too.

Richard wondered what the girls knew about each other. They already seemed fast friends after only a few days. Girls do that, he reminded himself.

Richard ran his hands through his damp hair. This heat isn't helping, he thought.

He felt like he was misleading someone. Sandra, by not telling her of the kiss? Or Emily, by not telling her he was deeply attracted to Sandra as well?

Or was it himself he was misleading?

Richard had never been in a situation quite like this. Or even remotely like it. He'd been with more than one woman, but certainly never at the same time.

First was Maureen Kowalski. That was a classic case of a relationship that should have stayed at the friends stage. Maureen was a bit weird, on the fringe of the socially acceptable pool in high school. She and Richard traded stupid poems in Spanish class, junior year. Somehow that led to trying to have sex. Maureen wasn't a virgin, although she never said where she'd lost that part of herself.

After one rather uninspired coupling, everything got weird. Maureen had regrets almost before they had even finished the act. She thought that Richard was going to find her promiscuous since they had only 'known' each other for a month. Then she thought he'd think her prudish, since she didn't let him come inside her, even though he had a condom on.

Maureen thought too much. The stupid poems ended after that.

Richard was somewhat fringe himself. You don't win many friends practicing piano for hours every day. He used to hate how his father made him sit at the piano, when the other kids were outside playing soccer or kickball in the dirt lot down the street.

When he was younger, he had a kitchen timer which he'd set on his piano. He would set the required practice time on the timer, start it, and then play. When the timer rang, he would jump up in mid-phrase and run out the door. Usually the games were winding down by then.

As he went through high school, music turned around and took hold of him. Somewhere along the way the piano went from being a sworn enemy to being a close friend.

By then, his human friends were few but firm.

His second time with a girl was only marginally better than the first. His piano teacher, Mr. Schatten, put on yearly recitals at a local theatre. At the one that coincided with the end of his junior year of high school, Richard met Mr. Schatten's newest student, Arlene.

Arlene Palmer. She introduced herself twice, which didn't make Richard feel all that memorable. Maybe she was just nervous.

The order of performance for the evening generally went from beginners early on, to the most advanced students at the end. Starting when he was a freshman, Richard always closed the show, and this year was no different. When he looked in the program, he was surprised to see that Arlene was performing second to last in the recital.

He knew why when he heard her play. The girl had beautiful phrasing. Richard was so taken with her playing that someone had to snap him out of his state and push him out onto the stage after she had walked off.

Richard didn't play his best that night, but Arlene had nice things to say about his playing anyway. He was just happy she had stayed to listen.

Early in his senior year of high school, he'd encounter Arlene at his piano teacher's apartment in New York City, when Mr. Schatten had the older students over for dinner. Five or six advanced students from his studio would get together, eat pasta, play some fun four-hand (or more-hand) piano works, and maybe watch a laserdisc of Suor Angelica. Mr. Schatten loved Puccini.

After the second of these dinners, Arlene and Richard exchanged phone numbers, and met for dinner in the city every few weeks on their own. Arlene lived in Jersey, so Manhattan was a good middle ground. Arlene had a car, but Richard didn't, so he took the subway in. It was cheaper than parking, too.

Richard wasn't sure if he ever fell in love with Arlene, but he had been at least close. Things progressed moderately due to the distance and lack of privacy. They talked of music easily. They were such different players, so every dinner was an exploration of how the other was approaching their latest piece. There was little overlap in repertoire between them, since Richard's bold and technical style was a world apart from Arlene's more sensitive and loose playing. But that was the attraction. Arlene's fingers might never move as fast as Richard's, but his might never sing as lovely as hers did.

The Friday Richard returned from his Wexford audition, his parents dropped him off at Arlene's house. She would drive him home on Sunday.

Richard was exceptionally high that weekend. His audition could not have gone better. He had just played some difficult selections almost perfectly in front of a panel of some of the leading pianists in the country. He couldn't wait to tell Arlene.

Arlene was not as high, though. Her audition at Juilliard a few days earlier had gone poorly. She had stumbled on several passages, and had to restart the Bach since she couldn't pick it up in midstream. This was her dream school, and she was sure her best chance at getting in had slipped away.

Richard tried to bring her spirits up, but Arlene pushed him away with comments like "You weren't even there, so how can you know it wasn't that bad?"

Over the course of the next day Arlene seemed to come around some. Richard was too happy to let her bring him down, and was unstoppably optimistic about her playing as a result. She eventually conceded that she had played some things well at the audition.

Late Saturday night on the pullout couch, Arlene woke him with a kiss. She quietly pulled Richard to her room. Richard had nothing with him, and apprehension about getting her pregnant got in the way of making the night a success. And maybe Arlene hadn't gotten over her audition. After a few painful attempts at entering her, Arlene tightened up and asked if they could stop.

A few minutes later she wanted to try again. By now Richard was on edge, worried about causing her pain, worried about the lack of latex, and worried that the beautiful phrasing of their relationship was totally lost.

Eventually he gently thrust into her a few times, and then pulled out and finished himself as quickly as he could into his hand.

Sunday morning was awkward, to say the least. Any ground Arlene had gained out of her depression over the Juilliard audition was lost to the rather unsatisfying episode the night before. The weekend finished quietly.

She decided she wanted to wait to have sex until she was on her own, in college. Richard was almost relieved to hear that.

They never really broke up. Richard got the feeling that Arlene's declaration of independence from sex was her way of splitting up with him. The next time they met for dinner, there was some kissing, but the heat wasn't the same. They didn't make another dinner appointment like they usually did, and Arlene never brought it up during their phone conversations. When Richard went to one of Mr. Schatten's parties and Arlene wasn't there (even though she vaguely said that she was going to be there), he got the message.

Richard had been right, Arlene did get into Juilliard after all.

Richard learned everything he knew about good sex from Tonia. Richard was afraid of sex when he met her. In two attempts, he still had not climaxed in the act, and needless to say his partners surely hadn't. He was on the verge of blaming himself. It turned out that Richard and girls whose names rhymed with 'een' weren't a good match. Tonia and Richard were a good match.

Too bad she lived in Italy.

After Richard graduated high school, he and his parents spent four weeks in central Italy. His family had a house in the small town they were from, and his dad's sister, Maria, kept the place up, living on the lower floor. Richard's family went every two years for part of the summer.

Tonia was nineteen. She was a firecracker, not afraid of being herself in a small town. She was the kind of girl who would make the old ladies in black sitting on the benches in the piazza shake their heads at her.

The first time Richard saw her, he was drinking pear flavored vodkas with some friends at the bar in the piazza. She drove by on a Vespa moped, wearing a provocative top and a jean skirt. Richard asked who she was, and his friends just laughed.

He met Tonia a few days later at a dance. A DJ had set up on the patio of a pizza place and everyone of interest was there. He was having a beer with his friends when one of them said that Tonia was coming over.

"She's checking you out," his friend had said excitedly.

Richard laughed, sure he was being teased. But a few moments later Tonia came right up to Richard and introduced herself. A few minutes later they were on the patio dancing.

A few days later they were in the back of her car fucking. Richard wasn't a small guy, and Tonia was tall and leggy. Space was tight as they pulled clothes off and pushed the front seats forward.

Tonia knew what she was doing; even Richard could tell he was not the first or second man she had been with. She was on birth control, and she was on fire for this American boy who was also Italian. She asked if they screwed in cars a lot in America. Richard said he thought so.

He was nervous given his past experience, but she just took control and made everything work. Richard was too excited to restrain himself for long, but he stayed hard after coming inside of her. He didn't even miss a stroke. She urged him on, knees bouncing by her head. If she could feel that he had wet her insides, she didn't let on.

Eventually she slowed, and she asked if he had come yet. He said he had. She looked at him a little funny, and then giggled. She said she had kept going for his sake; she was finished.

Richard just shrugged.

The next two weeks were a sexual awakening for Richard. Tonia was not afraid of sex. By the end of his trip, neither was Richard.

Too bad she lived in Italy.

The whole situation at Wexford was a surprise to Richard. Suddenly he was in a group of people where it was cool to play classical music. What was fringe in high school was now common ground. Music was no longer an obstacle to making friends, but rather a catalyst.

He felt so comfortable with Emily and Sandra. It was like he had been a saltwater fish in a freshwater pond all his life, and now he was in the ocean.

But how does something like this even work? Two girlfriends? Or is this a competition between them?

Everything seemed to somehow hinge on Emily. She was their leader, and somehow the sensuality of their three way relationship stemmed from her words and actions. She had kissed Richard, and had massaged Sandra. The more he considered it, the more that he thought Emily's touch of Sandra was an inclusive gesture. He hoped so. He didn't know if he could choose between them.

Movement II.

Emily sat on the floor of her practice room, tapping out the rhythms of her orchestra part with the end of her pencil. Her hand felt a little shaky, and she was distracted by the surrounding noise from adjacent rooms. She wished she could practice in her own room, but Sandra was singing there.

Her thoughts wandered to Richard. What does he think of me? He made no indication of what he thought of the kiss last night. But he did take my hand when I was massaging Sandra.

Sandra. This morning she had been quiet. Maybe I freaked her out by touching her hair last night. Or maybe she was just tired. It was early, after all. What happened after I fell asleep? Did Richard kiss her too?

Emily was surprised to feel a slight twinge of arousal at that thought, where she had expected jealousy. Last night she had felt like the three of them were so closely connected. But it made no sense. Sharing a man with Sandra? It was taboo.

But as Emily thought more about it, the idea still never crossed the line over into discomfort like she expected. Instead it felt natural, somehow. Like the three of them would fit just right, if they only tried.

What's wrong with me? she wondered.

Emily spent her teen years without parents. Her mother, Elizabeth, died when Emily was eleven, of cancer and of heartbreak. Her dad had moved on to yet another woman by then.