What We Trade Our Hearing For (a North and South Story)

2. Mix Tape

"And I know that you're a sucker for anything acoustic.

But when I say let's keep in touch,

I hope you know I mean I wish that you'd grow up.

This is the first song for your mix-tape,

It's short just like your temper

But somewhat golden like the afternoons we used to spend before you got too cool." 

-Brand New

Maggie

When Maggie opened the door to her parent's house the next afternoon, she heard piano music coming from the back room. That wasn't a strange occurrence, since she had grown up listening to her father play piano. The odd thing was, it was someone decidedly not her father playing- this person was obviously inexperienced, playing with childlike carefulness. She remembered that her father had intended to pick up a few students to supplement their income, so she snuck back to get a peek at the cute little kid learning piano for the first time. What she found when she turned the corner was not what she expected at all.

Mr. Thornton sat next to her father at the piano bench, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tapped away at the piano keys. He was so focused that he didn't notice Maggie in the doorway. Mr. Hale, however, did.

"Maggie! You're back from the store. Perfect, come meet my first pupil! This is John Thornton. John, this is my daughter, Maggie." At Mr. Hale's exclamation, Mr. Thornton startled and looked up from the piano. Maggie stood frozen in the doorway as Mr. Thornton and her father stood up from the piano and crossed the room to greet her. She reluctantly took the hand that Thornton held out to her, noticing how strong and warm his handshake was, as he said with a half smile "it's nice to finally be introduced." Dropping her hand, he turned to Mr. Hale, "I'm afraid your daughter and I are already somewhat acquainted, under less than pleasant circumstances."

That broke the spell. "Less than pleasant? I saw you brawling in your own bar and kick a man while he was already down! Not to mention the.."

"Gun?" He interrupted. "A man brought a gun into the concert, then proceeded to drink too much and get into an altercation with another very drunk person. I was angry, but I do what I must to protect The Mill." His voice held some strange emotion, one she was too angry to bother reading.

The scene was replaying itself in Maggie's mind, and she shuddered. "That sounds more like a job for the police than a businessman. I don't believe you should be taking the law into your own hands," she snapped.

John gave a humorless laugh. "If I had waited an hour or more for the police to arrive, people could have died, and the ensuing chaos would leave many more injured. Have you ever been trapped in a room full of panicking people? As a businessman it's my job to make sure that doesn't happen," he said, closing his eyes briefly as if reliving some long past memory. Sighing, he turned towards Mr. Hale. "My mother will bring Faith by to trial a lesson later this week, though I'm afraid she's not quite enthusiastic about the idea."

"Oh yes, yes, um, that would be just fine," Mr. Hale stuttered. "I think she's just a few years younger than Maggie, and I'm sure she'd love to get to know her as well, isn't that right Maggie?" He said, looking over to her. She just raised her eyebrows, unwilling to make any more contributions to this awkward conversation. Mr. Hale coughed, "well then, John, we can continue next week with Beethoven."

With one last glance toward Maggie, John nodded. "That sounds good. I'll see you next week, Mr. Hale. Thank you," he said as he walked out of the room, leaving Maggie and her father looking angry and uncomfortable, respectively.