Beneath the Sharps & Flats

♫Chapter 10- Look Who has a Soft Side♫

Chapter Ten

"So what am I supposed to do about my best friend since preschool who might possibly like me?"

I'm sitting on the wooden bench in front of the baby grand piano in my piano teacher's house. Since she's a piano teacher, she's not extremely rich and her house is cozy for her, her husband, and their twenty-one year old daughter who's currently at college. I've been stuck with Mrs. Voss (she's allowed me to call her Julie since my first piano lesson), since first grade. To be honest, I didn't want anything to do with piano; it was my mother who forced and propelled me forward so I could develop a deep love for the instrument.

Julie sighs, "I would advise you approach him."

"That's all you suggest when I just spilled my guts about my past absolutely crappy week?" I say incredulously as she bites her lip to keep from grinning. I scowl at her reaction and cross my arms over my chest, staring her down.

"I honestly don't know what to tell you," she replies honestly, a slight amount of amusement seeping into her voice. "I've never experienced this situation before, but I can try and give you better advice. Wait it out and see so you can know for sure, and then approach him." At the latter part, she holds up her finger, shooting me a mock serious look as the corners of my mouth twitch. 

Ever since I began to trust Julie--which was around fifth grade--I started pouring out my guts to her: family issues, friend issues, school issues, and other problems. She always listens attentively to my mostly negative issues, although she is one of the perkiest and bubbly people I've ever met. She has given me great and sometimes shitty advice over the years. The point is, she's always been there for me when I needed her to be, especially around the time of my mom's death when I slipped into a major depressive state. Of course, with the help of her, my friends, and my family, I pulled through.

"I guess that's okay advice," I shrug as she gasps, faking hurt.

"I think that's the best advice I've ever given anyone and you don't appreciate it," she replies, scoffing as I smile.

"Don't worry, I think your advice is amazing--," I say as her face brightens, "--ly horrible!" I burst into laughter at the look of disappointment and dejection that crosses her face and she eventually joins me in laughter for a minute.

"Okay we should probably get started." She rubs her hands together as I pull my overly large white piano binder out of my Vera tote and flip open to Sonata by Mozart. My binder is beginning to get so heavy; I literally have to use most of my muscles to just lift it up on the stand. I'm convinced I have arms equivalent to those of noodles.

"Hopefully, I'll be pleased with your practicing," she half questions raising an eye brow as I grin confidently. Throughout Jace difficulties and school, I've been able to squeeze in some time for piano.

"Oh, you will," I respond confidently, knowing she'll be surprised by the extra sixteen measures I will sight read, which are caught up to speed with the rest of the piece. Even though I am a professional pianist, sometimes songs can be so difficult I have to work through them slowly. Although I can still make out and identify the notes, time signature, and other symbols, I might have to play slowly to work my way through the measures and bars by days or weeks depending on the difficulty of the piece.

I place my hands in the position of C and begin to move my fingers elegantly across the piano. Julie heaves a sigh of pleasure and leans back, closing her eyes. As I finish up the first two pages, she flips to the third page and I play the first sixteen measures slightly slower than the rest of the song and stop there.

"Wow," she replies after I remove my fingertips from the piano. I grimace at the couple of screw-ups I made, having not warmed up.

"I've done better," I admit, but then my gaze catches her awed expression.