Music in the Key of Love

Chapter 9: Piano Lessons

Cressida sat, much like before, in the big chair off to the side, while Sasha had her lesson. She watched as Graham showed his pupil what to play, then went over it again and again. Sasha was never going to be a pianist, probably.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Sasha asked shyly when introduced to Cressida.

"No, she's my upstairs neighbor," Graham responded with a laugh.

"She's really pretty."

"She is, isn't she? Now, how are we doing with the Burgmüller?"

This was a whole new Graham, one she'd never seen before. He was not impatient at all, he was funny, making little jokes, with none of the pent up anger and resentment he so frequently displayed.

And Sasha was obviously in love with him from the depths of her twelve-year-old heart. She looked at him adoringly, leaning into him as far as she dared when he showed her some tricky fingering, or how to cross over.

Graham seemed to be oblivious to the unrequited love being heaped on him.

"You get it, Sasha? See how if you lower your wrist, you have more room? It needs to be relaxed, so you can hit the key just with the strength of your fingers, not your arms." He picked up her wrist and shook it back and forth. "Let all the tension out, wiggle wiggle wiggle, okay?"

Sasha giggled as he released her hand.

"Now feel my forearm, how relaxed it is? Later, when you play really powerful pieces, you might need to flex a little, but for now, your strength has to come from your fingers."

Sasha nodded, staring at him, hands on his arms.

"Look at my fingers, not my face, silly," Graham admonished.

Cressida, watching from the chair, felt sympathy for Sasha, who looked down, embarrassed. Her hair, cut in a simple bob, hung down, obscuring her face, but Cressida could still see the flush in her cheeks.

Eventually, her lesson finished, Sasha packed up her books and left, throwing a last, lovelorn glance over her shoulder. "Thanks for the lesson, Graham, see you next week."

"Bye Sasha."

Cressida shook her head as Graham grabbed some water. "Poor little thing."

"Oh, I know, she's having a terrible time with her fingering. Her mother wanted her to quit, but for some reason she wants to continue."

"No, idiot!" Cressida laughed. "She's got it for you so bad."

Graham put his water down and stared at her. "What? Really? You think so?"

"Graham, are you blind?" Cressida shook her head again. "Still, I suppose there's something to be said for a nice, unrequited love for your piano teacher when you're that age. Perfectly acceptable, and safe."

"Safe?"

"Yeah. No chance of anything happening, just pure emotion. Perfect for a twelve-year-old. It would be different if she were, say, fifteen or sixteen."

"Why? You saying I'd do something?"

"God, no! It's just that feelings run so much deeper at that age, and physical feelings are involved, too. Not to mention, there are horrible people out there who would 'do something,' take advantage of a young girl."

Graham sat on the arm of the chair, looking down at Cressida's laptop. "I suppose so. How awful."

"Yes. But young Sasha can count on you not to break her heart, see? You're perfect."