08/24/07
The Piano
24. Agony
The apartment is clean - it's always clean, except for the kitchen. That's always a mess, with the brown-eyed woman cooking constantly: dinner for the family, food for parties and sweets she donates for fund-raising events.
She's a very good person at heart. Her friends love her, they know they can rely on her for help. She's always willing to lend a hand and is especially helpful with the sick. People joke she should have been a nurse, instead of a teacher.
She laughs at those comments and modestly dismisses the compliments - and goes back to her cooking.
***
Noticing that his wife is pleasantly occupied, doing the things she likes, the pianist ventures a little time for himself. Almost apologetically, he sits on the bench and opens the piano. His fingers touch the keys, not as smoothly as they used to all those years ago, but still with the assurance that there is where they belong.
As soon as the first notes fill the apartment, the brown-eyed woman comes out of the kitchen and tells him the room needs vacuuming.
He points out to her that it's clean and, in a moment of defiance, tells her he won't vacuum the floor.
He resumes his playing. She stops cooking, picks up the vacuum cleaner and the noise of the machine drowns the notes he's playing.
Defeated, he closes the piano.