"I think we have to talk over some of the thematic elements of the piece, they seem to be getting lost in the technical aspects." Professor Thurman tucked her legs under her on the sofa, pen poised over the score.
"Well, yes, I told you the technical shit was giving me a lot of trouble," Graham replied, turning from where he sat at the piano. "You knew this piece was going to take a lot of time."
She regarded him calmly. "Yes, but you should be well on your way by now, not still mucking about with the dynamics, for heaven's sake."
Graham shrugged. "I can't start worrying about all that other stuff until I have the tech down, right?" It would come when it came, he was doing all he could.
He ran a hand through his hair and looked around the well-appointed room. Professor Thurman lived on Fifth Avenue, and not the northern or southern portion. No, she lived right across from Central Park, the swankiest part. His whole apartment would've fit in this room, he believed. The huge windows let in tons of afternoon light, and the temperature was a nicely modulated 72 degrees, with just the right humidity for the gorgeous piano he was playing.
"Okay, go back to where the left hand takes over the theme repetition, take it from there. Let's get this hammered out." She added as an afterthought, "Do you mind if Katherine listens in? She's probably going to have to play part of this for a class."
Graham shrugged acquiescence, and she sent her daughter a quick text.
Katherine entered the room, and rather than sit next to her mother as Graham had supposed she would, she came to stand behind him, bringing the fragrance of her expensive perfume with her.
"Hullo, Graham," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder
He shrugged it off without turning around. "Hey there," he responded briefly. "You ready?"
"Yes, sure."
Graham began where Professor Thurman had instructed, trying to concentrate on the content without letting the technical aspects fall apart, without losing all of the work he'd been doing at home on pacing and articulation. He always had trouble with Rachmaninov, and the Prof damned well knew it. Why have Kath come in and listen to him screw it up?
He felt Katherine move a little closer, so he could feel her body heat on the left side of his back. She knew better than to touch him while he played, but he could sense her hovering, wanting to put her hand back on his shoulder.
It irritated him, and upped the tempo on purpose. Sure enough, within a few measures Professor Thurman had clapped her hands, the sign for him to stop.
"What on earth are you doing? It's andante!"
"Sorry. I told you, I'm having a tough time with this one."
"He's been working on it very industriously, Mother," Katherine put in. "Every time we text it seems he's working on it."
"Every time you text me, you mean."
Katherine looked at him, hurt. Now she did leave him to go and sit next to her mother, who put a comforting hand on her daughter's arm.
"What is it about being in this house that gets you so cross, might I ask?"
"Maybe it's the company."
Katherine gasped and rose.
"No, Katherine, please—"
"It's okay, Mum, you two need to work." And she left, blond hair bouncing against her shoulder blades.
"I really wish you wouldn't be so rude to her," Professor Thurman remarked. "She is trying."
YOU ARE READING
Music in the Key of Love
RomanceCressida has just moved into her own place to begin her senior year of college. It's tiny, but it's all hers. Her downstairs neighbor turns out to be a rude, brooding man of few words, and Cress is surprised when she finds out he's a pianist prepari...
