Page 61 of Semblance

“Being a single parent was pretty much the death of my father’s dream to travel the world and perform on grand stages. He always told me that when I had the crowd in Vienna eating out of my hand, then I had finally made it.”

“Vienna is a lovely city,” Shadow said. “We should go there sometime.”

“I thought our dates were finished after this,” I said.

“I can make an exception.”

I giggled like a school girl, only to realize how juvenile I must have looked. I cleared my throat.

“Growing up, I was always surrounded by pianos. As a side business on weekends, my dad restored pianos, picking up old clunkers and refurbishing them. He fine-tuned every string until they were restored to their glory again,” I said. “I helped him out quite often, handing him tools or helping him with the tuning. Sometimes I even helped restring them. It became a tradition that after every piano was finished, I’d learn a new song on it before it was to be sold.”

“What was the first song your dad ever taught you?” he asked.

I smiled. “Twinkle twinkle little star of course.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m lying. It was actually Baa Baa Black Sheep.”

“Very funny,” Shadow said with a smirk.

“It wasn’t until I was twelve, maybe thirteen, that I had asked my dad about his passion for music and pianos. It was then that he revealed to me his abandoned dream of playing music for the world to hear. When I asked him why he didn’t continue down that path, he always refused to tell me, diverting the conversation to other topics using the same stupid tactic you use.

“My uncle told me the truth one time while drunk. The reason my dad abandoned his dreams was to take care of me. They often say that parents live vicariously through their children. It was true. I decided at that moment that I would fulfill my dad’s dream and train to become a pianist myself. I fantasized about sitting in Vienna Music Hall, finishing my encore and the crowd is roaring, giving me a standing ovation. In the first row was my dad, and I’d bring him up on stage, revealing to everyone that this wonderful man was the true inspiration behind the music that they heard tonight.” I paused and swallowed hard. “My dad died two years ago from pancreatic cancer. I’ll never be able to fulfill that fantasy.”

I felt myself getting emotional. Crying was the last thing I wanted to do in front of Shadow. He’d probably think I was unstable.

“I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll still be able to see and hear you play in Vienna when the day comes.”

“Do you believe in heaven or God?” I asked.

Shadow’s eyes diverted to the ground as he reflected on my question. “Not for a long time,” he finally said.

“I see.”

“I’m sure God comes to those who deserve it. However I don’t consider myself one of those people,” Shadow said.

“So do you think my dad’s watching over me now?”

“I do,” Shadow said. “He’s probably thinking ‘who’s this unworthy dipstick sitting in front of my daughter.’ That’s probably what I’d be thinking if I was him.”

“I always believed people from heaven can see deep into people’s souls,” I said. “I’m sure my dad would have liked you. You seem like a pretty good guy.”

“If your dad could look into my soul, then he’d definitely be scowling. I’m fucked up, there’s no mistake about that.” Shadow leaned back in his chair. “I’ve heard you play Aria. You have an amazing gift and I’d be shocked if you weren’t able to succeed. Everything is in its right place for you.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The thing about classical music is there’s no demand for it. Classical music enthusiasts have already all the music they ever need in their collection. There are only so many variations of Beethoven piano sonatas that can be played, while maintaining the spirit of the original song. Let’s face it, I chose a dying breed of business that’s highly competitive and could live without another person redoing a famous composer’s work. A classical musician is the ultimate cover artist.”

“So create your own music,” Shadow said. “I heard the song you wrote for your dad. It was brilliant.”

“It’s not that easy,” I said. “The classical music circles are a snobby bunch and they won’t welcome a new artist with open arms easily. Take Phillip Glass for example, his music has been the ridicule of the classical elite for years.”

“I think it’s more along the lines that all the songs he wrote can be played with two fingers.”

“That’s beside the point. He tried something different with his minimalist style and was ostracized by the very people I need to impress.”

“Why do you need to impress them?” Shadow asked.

“Because it’s my dream to succeed; it’sourdream.”

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