Piano Lessons
Esther Lans
Carli had made a commitment. She had promised, out loud and in front of witnesses, to have and to hold, till death do us part. And she had never, ever, gone back on her word. She felt nauseous. Gutted. Empty.
“Did you ever love me?” she asked him, in a soft voice.
His answer was a loud disdained silence that clad her in guilt and shame. He left the room, and when he returned moments later, he stood before her, looking down at the floor in front of his feet, his chest heaving heavily up and down as if he had been running. Then he slowly lifted his gaze, and with his pale lips pressed tightly together, looked straight at her, and, seemingly, straight through her. Carli cringed. It made her feel invisible, like she wasn’t there, like she was nothing. Finally, he slowly turned around, walked to the foyer, and put on his thick winter coat. Then he opened the front door of their Upper Lonsdale Tudor home, and left.
Carli silently followed him, and when she reached the cold entranceway, she stopped and watched him as he walked down the wooden steps, away from their home, and away from her; his back straight and his head held high, as always. Nolan was a proud, solid man; a good man. She knew that this was her last chance to change her mind. Her last chance to take back, to recant, everything that she had said; to apologize and tell him that she had spoken out of spite, that she had lied, that she had told him nothing but vicious, cruel, lies. But, she just stood there as if frozen, her muscles screaming for her to move, her heart aching with each precious beat.
***
They were married six years ago on a beautiful, sunny spring day in June, on a moist deep green lakeside lawn that felt soft and warm beneath their bare feet. All around them, brightly colored flowers were in full bloom, and the joyful laughter of friends and family filled the fragrant, sultry air that surrounded them. When Carli looked at Nolan that day, she knew, she just knew, that she would be happy, no matter what the future would bring. She was glowing, and dizzy with joy and excitement, her cheeks red, like the breast of a young Robin. And when Nolan smiled at her, Carli thought it was the most beautiful sight that she had ever seen.
“Why?” her mother cried, exasperated. Her eyes, brimming with disappointment, anguish, and a hint of resentment, seemed to be pleading with Carli.
Carli hung her head and closed her eyes. She knew that nothing she could possibly say would ever help her mother understand what she had done; why she had given up her loving husband, her comfortable life, and her beautiful home; why she had given up her dream. Her mother would never know the truth about her – or about him. It was better this way.
“I will make you some tea,” Carli said, tenderly. She let go of her mother’s hands, slowly got up from the worn taupe sofa, and made her way to the small kitchen of her mother’s modest Lower Lonsdale condo. The white ceramic sink contained a stack of dishes and a few utensils, and on the tired countertop beside it, sat a chipped, stained coffee mug. Somewhat dazed, Carli blankly stared at the glass cupboard doors and saw two red-rimmed eyes staring back at her. When it gradually dawned on her that the emerald green eyes were her own, Carli curiously moved closer to the glass and carefully studied her reflection. She barely recognized herself.
“I am here,” she whispered, softly.
Then she moved away from the cupboard, and with a rekindled will and determination, she slowly but deliberately declared, “I am here. I exist. I matter.”
***
“I’m not going to tell you again,” Nolan growled. He was sitting in his large, leather arm chair, beside the bay window of their spacious living room, reading his morning paper. “I do not want that woman in my house.”
Carli started to respond but thought better of it. She is my mother, she thought sadly. My mother. The tension in the room was suffocating her. She couldn’t remember how they had gotten to this point; how they had gone from being equal partners and passionate lovers, to this. As she timidly sat on the burgundy couch, silently keeping him company, she remembered the day that they had moved into this beautiful house that long since had stopped being a home. They had slept on layers of blankets on the hardwood floor of this same living room, and she had felt warm and safe when she woke up and found his arm limply resting on her waist. While he was still deeply asleep, she had just laid there and watched him breathe. It was as if time stood still. Later, she had carefully slipped out of the room and walked to the small bakery, just a few blocks away, to surprise him with warm croissants. And when she returned, they had passionately made love again. Right here. On this same hardwood floor.
***
In her mother’s small kitchen, Carli straightened herself and raised her head, just like Nolan had taught her.
“When playing the piano,” he had said, “posture and position are critical to prevent injuries and to maintain optimal control. Pacing and coordination are important as well, so are patience and persistence. And passion, passion is what transforms the simple movements of the individual keys into a sweeping melody. The keys will do exactly what you direct them to do, they need your guidance, they depend on you and are useless without you.”
She had taken his lessons to heart. She had paid attention to every single word he said, to every move he made, and she had practiced feverishly – as if her life depended on it.
***
Carli returned to the living room, carefully sat down next to her mother, and gently touched her boney shoulder. The thick, moss green carpet felt soft and warm underneath her bare feet, and the only sound that could be heard was the rhythmic ticking of the pendulum of the old grandfather clock that hung on the wall above the antique, cherry wood dresser. As Carli’s mother turned to look at her, Carli noticed the dark circles below her mother’s watery eyes.
“Mom,” she started hesitantly, “I will be going away for a while.” Carli paused and swallowed. Her bottom lip quivered when mother’s eyes met hers. “Please, forgive me, mom.”
As Carli softly stroked her mother’s grey hair, she inhaled the familiar floral scent of her mother’s perfume. Marry a good man, and be a good wife, her mother’s voice from long ago echoed in her head. Always be a good wife. Carli shivered as she rose from the sofa. What about me, mom? She responded without moving her lips. What about me?
In the cold entranceway of her North Vancouver Tudor home, Carli had watched Nolan’s solid figure slowly fade in the distance – until it was finally completely gone.
She had loved him passionately, and she had always been a good wife. But she knew it was time to take control of the keys and change the melody; that things would be better that way.