Music in the Key of Love

Chapter 20: Ruminations

Graham felt the same oppression come over him that he always felt in this house. Oddly enough, it was a lot like how he'd felt back in White Chalk, though the two places couldn't have been more different. He looked around his bedroom, knowing he should count himself lucky.

And for Kath to put him in this room—! What was she thinking?

Unfortunately, Graham had a pretty good idea what she was thinking, and he didn't like it at all.

He slipped into the physical aspects of life at the Thurmans pretty easily.

He'd wake up early and go jogging in Central Park, something he used to do quite a bit when he went to Hamilton and lived closer. He'd really missed it, and enjoyed the feeling of stretching his muscles, his lungs. He was shocked at how little distance he could cover at first, and resolved to go a little farther every day. It was one of the very few free physical activities one could do in New York City.

He'd come back and shower before having breakfast, hopefully early enough to avoid his hostess or her daughter. He'd take a cup of their excellent coffee out to the terrace and contemplate his upcoming practice, thinking about what he was going to work on that day.

Then he'd hit the practice room and remain ensconced there for hours, sometimes skipping lunch. The Rachmaninov was coming along very nicely, and he was no longer terrified about the deClerq Competition.

If he was lucky, he'd get to see Cress, but it didn't always happen. Sometimes he'd take the subway down to the Lower East Side to see her, but there wasn't always time. They texted a lot, but it wasn't the same. He worried that she was unhappy; however, he'd told her way back at the beginning that he wouldn't have time for her during the next few months, that the competition had to come first.

He just hated being around the apartment on Fifth Avenue and suddenly running across Kath. It was a tricky situation, because he didn't want to completely alienate her, not with her mother being so important to him; at the same time, he didn't want to encourage her any more than she already was by having him in her home.

He could see her happiness whenever he joined them for a meal or stopped to pass the time of day, and recognized the danger signs.

Graham lay back on his bed, considering.

He could still remember how he'd loved her, how he'd longed to be with her. Everything about her amazed him; her gorgeous hair and body, her class, her breeding, her intelligence. And then this apartment, her mother being who she was, all of it had thrown him for a loop. The joy of finding out she wanted him, Graham Stevens, of White Chalk, Texas, had been overwhelming.

He'd never been so happy. Life had been amazing. Being at Hamilton, surrounded for the first time in his life by like-minded people, people who understood about music and what it meant to play, and to see Kath every day, had been like heaven to him.

And then to find out about his parents and brother, the nightmare of having to leave school in the middle of the term and go back to take care of his father's final mess, of wanting Kath with him, needing her, and her never coming, he'd never forget the pain, the longing.

"I just couldn't," she said. "I actually reserved a plane ticket, I can show you, but I couldn't go through with it. The thought of being in that place, the poverty, the squalor, no culture anywhere. I've seen places like that on the telly, and I knew I couldn't bear it. And then to sit through a trial? Your father on trial for murder? I couldn't be associated with anything like that, I just couldn't."

"The trial lasted four days."

"However long, I couldn't. I hope you understand."

This conversation had taken place after he returned, after finding out he'd basically have to repeat the entire term during the summer, that he'd receive no credit for the time he put in before he left.

And then the ultimate betrayal, finding out she'd been with someone else, nearly the entire time he'd been gone!

"It didn't mean anything, honestly," Kath had said. "I was just lonely, so lonely without you, and he was a shoulder to cry on, you know?"

"Don't you think I needed a shoulder to cry on?" Graham remembered thundering at her. "I was lonely, too, Kath, and going through the most unimaginable hell! My own brother is basically a vegetable, and my mother, the only person who ever loved me, is gone!"

"Don't say that, don't say that, I love you, I love you, Graham!"

That fight had taken place right in this house, in this very room, where they'd escape from the music room, hands held, laughing, to make love. Ironic that the room where he'd found so much joy in coming together with another person was where that relationship had ended.

"You don't love me, Kath, you love you. Period. You just want your way, and you're upset because you can't get it. Did you really think I'd come back and we could just—pick up—where we left off? That I wouldn't find out about him?"

"I thought you'd forgive me, because that's what people who love each other do, isn't it?"

"Not this person. We're through."

"No, Graham, please." She'd hung on him, her fragrant hair in his face, as she sobbed.

Graham rolled over on the bed to look out at the expanse of Midtown. Somewhere, south of the all buildings, Cress was sitting in class, hopefully thinking about him. Just thinking about her created in him a longing such as he'd never known. Her beautiful huge eyes, her beautiful little body, her spark-plug personality—he missed her.

He sighed and rose to head to the music room. At least he knew in there he couldn't run into Kath. She might come in later to see if he wanted coffee or food, but for a few hours he'd be safe. Even the professor rarely entered the room when he was there, unless it was actually time for his lesson. And of course she was teaching during most days, anyway.

He began with five finger exercises, focusing on his left hand. It was always a little sluggish in the morning. Unlike most pianists, Graham liked exercises and scales; he thought of it as jogging for his hands, calisthenics, almost.

He moved into scales, and wondered how his students were doing. He'd referred all of them to different teachers on the Lower East Side, and hoped that they'd come back to him when the apartment was ready.

If he could find another piano.

Maybe he could take some of the prize money (if he won) to get a used one?

He knew that if he withdrew support for Ash, the government would take over, put him in a state home. They wouldn't let him die. But Ash was his brother, his responsibility, as much as he could handle, anyway. The place where he was now was much better than a state run facility, Graham believed, well worth the money. He'd used the money from the sale of the house and property, such as it was, to help subsidize Ash's placement; the prize money would ensure he could stay there another year.

He had to win.

He moved on to the Rachmaninov, playing it through once just to see where he stood. He wondered about the tempo in the middle of the adagio, if he'd got it right. He made a notation to ask Professor Thurman during his next lesson.

His phone, which he usually remembered to mute while he practices, pinged with a text.

It was from Cress.

"Are you busy tonight? A bunch of us are going out, and I thought maybe you could come? You still haven't met my friends."

He sighed. He didn't want to meet her friends.

Besides, he was busy. She knew this.

"I can't, I have to work."

"Aren't you working rn? I'm talking about tonight, 8 HOURS from now."

"I have to work now and tonight. You know that."

"Fine."

Great. Now Cress was upset with him, and the one thing he'd been looking forward to, namely the possibility of seeing her tonight, was gone. He couldn't very well tell her he was busy and then ask her to blow off her friends to see him, could he? Why couldn't she understand that he had so little free time, he didn't want to waste it on her friends, he wanted to see her?

Graham sighed and turned back to his music.

This time he remembered to mute his phone.