Page 79 of Sunrise By the Sea

‘Eroica,’ he said softly.

‘Pardon?’

He took the plain white cover of the record, looked around and turned a big switch on a cabinet he had against the back wall. It was the oldest record player Marisa had ever seen, older than hernonna’s, which had a 78 setting. But before he did so he set it down sadly.

‘But I forget,’ he said. ‘You do not care for music.’

‘I . . .’

Then she went for the truth.

‘I just don’t know much about music. I don’t know anything about classical music. I quite like . . .’

Suddenly fessing up to how much she liked Polly’s Backstreet Boys albums felt a little pointless to mention now.

‘Well, I like pop music. But I don’t know anything about what you play. It just sounds . . . so complicated and noisy and . . . a bit boring.’

‘Borink,’ said Alexei looking sad.

‘I just . . . I just don’t understand. I never learned an instrument. I don’t . . . I just don’t get it.’

He nodded. ‘I see.’

She hated to see him sad again.

‘You could . . . you could show me,’ she said quietly.

Again that long calculation with the brown eyes and the long eyelashes. Was that him thinking, or was it his circuits translating English? She couldn’t decide what he was like at all, it was the oddest thing. But she found she liked looking at him while he thought about things. It was quiet in the softly lit room for a moment.

‘Huh. Aha,’ he said. ‘Come with me.’

She stood up – slightly wobbly – as he refilled their glasses and carried them carefully over to the piano. There were piles of things everywhere but nothing on top of the piano except for two stubby pencils on the sides.

There was one bench, which he sat on, and a chair on the left-hand side, which he indicated for her to sit on. They were close; closer than Marisa would normally think of as comfortable. Or maybe abnormally. It had been so long. She was once again closer to Alexei, she realised, than she had been to another human being in a very long time.

It felt so strange. There was a heat coming off him; she felt the hairs stir on her arm, right next to him. His side was touching her elbow, but he seemed completely oblivious of the physical contact. She could think of nothing else; as if her elbow seared touching him. He was going through a huge pile of sheet music, humming and hawing to himself, while she felt every tiny pressure of him next to her, every movement, a warm human smell of him – the top of the piano, she noticed, was now actually covered in pencil sharpenings, which explained the woody scent that clung to him, as well as the cloves from his little cigarettes. Even the thick wool of his jumper brushed her like an electric shock and he was completely oblivious; buried in the loose papers with the strange little black markings on them, musical notes and lines and curves and odd squiggly characters that indicated who knew what, but made up a language he could read.

She looked down at the piano keyboard in front of her. She’d never sat in front of one before. She must have banged a few notes at a friend’s house. But to actually sit in front of one.

She found she was nervous. It was the proximity, she knew. The two of them so close, the night so quiet. The alcohol had gone straight to her head; she was out of practice with it and felt extremely peculiar. Experimentally, she leaned, just the tiniest way, to the right. Just the tiniest piece of pressure on his body, the tiniest breath of leaning. He didn’t notice. His bulk, his warmth though felt incredibly comforting.

‘Aha!’ he said, still completely oblivious. He pulled something out, with the same odd scribbles on it as everything else.

‘Okay,’ he said. ‘We shall try this.’

‘What is it?’

‘You will know it,’ he said. ‘If you have ever seen film or watch TV it is everywhere. Some people say aha it is everywhere I hate it now.But!Because something is everywhere that does not meanbad everywhere.’

He placed it with a flourish on the stand. It appeared to be called after a gymnasium.

‘Am I just going to watch?’

‘No! You are going to play with me and feel with me.’

‘I can’t play though! Not at all! Not a note.’

‘Not a note,’ said Alexei. ‘Two notes!’

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