Music in the Key of Love

Chapter 2: Graham

Graham grinned as he sat at his kitchen table to sort through his papers. The new girl sure had a mouth on her, considering she was just a little wisp of a thing, all eyes and lustrous hair slipping out of her messy bun.

He resolutely put the loud girl out of his head as he began filling out the endless forms that were required for his scholarships and grants, the scholarships and grants that kept him in New York, where he needed to be to pursue his dreams of a better life.

Finally he pushed them away, finished for the moment. He needed to spend some time at the piano today to work on the Rachmaninov for sure.

Graham sat down at the bench, taking a moment to commune with Rachmaninov in his head before placing his fingers on the keyboard. First he played scales, from the lowest registers to the highest, in every key, just as a general warm up. Then he played various scales and arpeggios in C Minor, to set the framework for the Rachmaninov as it were.

Finally, he began on the piece itself, playing it through once, twice, then beginning to make notations where he needed to work on things. When he wasn't using it, he stuck the pencil in his hair. Everything else, the sunny, hot day, the world outside his open window, fell away as he worked. He didn't even feel the sweat running down his back, or notice the patch of sun creeping through the window and getting longer as the earth spun slowly on its axis. Eventually he added in the orchestration and played it through a few times that way.

He drew a box around three measures that were giving him trouble, going over the pencil marks as he pondered the notes. He knew that there would be hell to pay if he didn't get it worked out before he saw Professor Thurman the next day. When he played it slowly, the fingering was no problem, but when he sped up, for some reason, the fingering went wrong and he was left having to do a crossover for the next phrase.

Finally he noticed that he was having to squint at the music, and that the shadows had grown long inside his apartment.

He sighed, staring at the music, at the boxed parts, which were numerous. It would have to do.

He rose from the bench, carefully closing the lid on the keys first, and went to forage for some dinner. All he could find was some old pizza. He sniffed it, trying to tell if it was too old to eat, since he couldn't remember when he'd bought it. He decided it was probably okay and heated it up, grabbing a beer to go with it, and headed out back to the garden, which was usually cooler than his apartment at this time of day.

To his annoyance, Loud Girl was out there already, her laptop and glass of iced tea on the table in front of her. She looked up at the sound of the door closing, eyes narrowing slightly when she saw who it was.

Graham gestured to the table with his plate and bottle, and she obligingly moved her laptop and glass, leaving him room.

He sat down and took a long drink from the bottle, tipping his head back. He set it down on the table and began eating his pizza.

"I'm Cressida Parker," the girl said suddenly, holding her hand out. "3A."

I'll be nice if you will.

"Graham Stevens." He took her hand in his own for the briefest of moments before releasing it.

"I really enjoyed your piano playing," she went on doggedly. "It was very beautiful."

"It wasn't too loud?" He put the barest of emphasis on his last word.

The girl, Cressida, shook her head. He was having a hard time telling how old she was, though he assumed she must be in her early twenties. She seemed much younger in repose, almost like a teenager in appearance. But then she'd open her mouth and talk, and somehow this act made her older, more adult. And more annoying.

"Can I ask how you made it sound like there was a whole orchestra down there with you?" she asked now, turning her eyes to him. He realized he had underestimated her eyes earlier, thinking them merely large. They were stunning, brown and framed by dense lashes a few shades darker than her hair.

"You can buy recordings of the orchestra, with just the piano part missing," he said briefly. "Helps when you don't have lots of rehearsal time with them."

"Oh." She was silent, though if it was because she was digesting the information, or had simply run out of things to say, he couldn't be sure. 

He took another bite of his pizza, sitting back and enjoying the relative cool of the garden, even with this interloper present. Hopefully she wouldn't keep talking.

"You know, I'm making an effort here," she finally said.

"An effort to what?"

"To get us back on a neighborly footing, since that's what we're going to be."

"We were never on a neighborly footing," Graham replied. "You ran into me with your boxes, then got all huffy and offended when I didn't fall all over the place apologizing or whatever." He shrugged and took another drink of beer.

No big deal.

She took a deep breath, nostrils flaring slightly.

"I did not get 'huffy and offended,'" she contradicted, crossing her arms. "Though I don't see why you couldn't have just apologized, or at least helped me pick up my stuff."

"I had to go get something before the place closed." He picked up his bottle again and found it empty, to his irritation. If he'd been alone, he might have gone in to get another to enjoy out in the garden, but not now, not while Cressida the Mouth was sitting here.

"Well, thanks for the conversation, I'll be heading in now." Graham picked up his plate and bottle and headed in, carefully putting the beer bottle in the recycling bin on his way to his apartment.

Once he was inside, he opened a second beer, taking it down by half while standing in front of the fridge.

After a few minutes, he heard running footsteps going up the stairs. He listened, and the running continued, up all three flights. He was impressed. He himself was in pretty good shape, and he didn't know if he could run straight up three flights of stairs.

He sat down after putting the Rachmaninov on for background music, leafing through the sheet music, pencil at the ready to make notations on anything that came to mind.

He wondered what she looked like running up the stairs.

Dammit.

This was why he didn't date, tried to socialize as little as possible. Women had a way of getting in your head and sinking roots there, distracting you from everything important.

He shook his head and stared again at the sheet music open in front of him.

Those eyes, though.