Page 22 of Unsupervised
“Mr. Cooper only jotted down your initials. He’s not the most…organized.” Her scrutinizing gaze isn’t helping the embarrassment. “You want to learn the piano?”
“Well, yeah, I mean…a couple of simple songs.”
Another few moments of silence tick by. “Are you sure you aren’t a stalker instead of a serial killer?”
It breaks the tension, on my end anyway, and I shake my head with a laugh. “I didn’t know you worked here. My grandmother is in a retirement home. She always wanted me to learn the piano and I thought I’d surprise her by learning to play a couple of songs. This…really wasn’t a good idea. I’m sorry.”
“Wait,” she calls, when I turn to leave. “You just surprised me. I can teach you to play.” She gestures to the piano bench. “What songs did you have in mind?”
I have no idea. “I’m not sure. She’d be thrilled to have me play anything.” I sit on the bench, and she sits beside me.
The sweet smell of honey wafts around me. I don’t know if it’s her shampoo or soap or a perfume, but she smells amazing. Since I dropped her off, she’s changed clothes and pulled her hair into a bun on top of her head. “Apparently, there’s awho has the best grandkidcontest in progress between the residents and I’m losing.”
“Okay, do you play any instruments?”
“Unless drumming on the table counts, no.”
She smiles and sucks on her bottom lip. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “So, you don’t know how to read music, recognize notes and chords, or any of that, then?”
Shit. There’s going to be so much more to this than I expected. Maybe it was stupid to think I could just learn a couple of songs.
“Afraid not.”
The bench creaks as she shifts to look at me. “Are you interested in learning how to play or just purely doing it for someone else? Because learning to read music takes a lot of time and practice.”
“I’ve never really been interested, no, and I don’t have a lot of time. My grandmother has dementia. It’s early days but you never know how fast it can move. I’d like to be able to play a song for her when I visit, while she can still remember.”
It’s more than I intended to share, and the sympathetic expression that forms on her face makes me regret it. She’s my student. I’m supposed to have the upper hand here. She isn’t supposed to know stuff about me.
“I’m so sorry about your grandmother.” Maybe the look on my face gives away how uncomfortable I suddenly am because she continues. “I think I know what we can do. If it’s just for a few songs, we’ll pick some simple ones. I’ll mark the sheet music with the notes and mark the keyboard as well. You can just match and memorize them.”
That doesn’t sound too hard. “That’s perfect.”
“It will still take a lot of practice,” she warns. “Especially if you want to learn them fast.”
“I can do that.”
“Okay.” She nods toward the keyboard bag. “Get it out. Let me see what you’re working with.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes what it sounded like. “Your keyboard! Get your keyboard out. I wasn’t, you know…suggesting you whip it…anything else…out so I can see it. I’ll be right back.”
She flees the room while I do my best not to laugh, then returns a moment later with a sheet of stickers.
The rest of the time is spent with her adhering the stickers to the correct keys and showing me some common chords that I’ll be learning.
“I’ll find some easy songs and get them marked as well, then you can start playing at your next lesson. Anything specific you want to learn?”
An idea occurs to me. “Her birthday is coming up. Happy birthday is simple, right?”
“A perfect beginner song, yes. When do you want your next lesson?” A strand of hair that’s come loose from her bun falls in her face as she peruses her appointment book.
“What nights do you teach?”
“Monday, Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday. I’d recommend once a week, but if that’s too often twice a month would work.”
“Just give me your last appointment on Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Her eyebrows leap up and she regards me. “Two nights a week?”
Yeah, I’m surprised too. The words sort of spilled out. Maybe it’s the thought of not spending my evenings alone. That’s what I’d like to tell myself, but the truth is…I want to spend more time with her.