“Piano and I” by Grace Hurd

My first memory was
climbing Mt. Piano Bench
I saw the mahogany wood and a bronze handle.
I opened the handle and began
slamming the piano keys.
Mother, with her cotton candy pink curlers
in her chocolate hair
and her small, walnut eyes staring at me,
barked “Get off!”
I did but only to start
kicking and screaming
on the floor.
She then slapped me.

I somehow convinced myself to climb again and again.

Once I only needed a little hop
to reach the top of Mt. Piano Bench
Father who’s short, slender, shaking body
feared for my life
if I slammed the keys again,
introduced me to Teacher.
Teacher towered over me
with his bony fingers
and large oval glasses
who caught my every mistake,
but taught me well.
Mother found out
Father and Teacher were
spending too much time together.
She screamed at them
Threw her black pumps at them
Shouted words I knew I shouldn’t say.
Teacher was never invited again.

I somehow convinced myself to continue practicing.

Shortly thereafter,
Mother introduced me to Scholar.
Her greying blonde hair curled on itself
And she smelled of rotting furniture
With lemons on it for some reason
I started struggling.
My fingers would not cooperate.
My foot would not cooperate.
My eyes would not cooperate.
I grew frustrated,
but Scholar told me,
“Everyone makes mistakes.
It is okay.
What you need to do is keep going,
and if you can,
act like the mistake was intentional”.

I somehow convinced myself that she would be my guide through life.

Near the end of my sprouting
Father handed me a newspaper.
My Scholar had passed.
Father told me
Mother and Father were separating,
Father was moving away to Teacher’s house,
And Father would only see me on weekends.
Teacher came a week later,
grabbed Father’s things
including that mahogany piano
and left with Father.
Mother started
hitting me,
yelling at me,
And gave me a gift I could not take back:
A burn from a cigarette.

I somehow convinced myself that this was all my fault.

I moved away to a school
where I could escape home.
The black grand piano in the lobby of my dorm
stared at me each day,
wanting my fingers to caress it
and push its buttons.
I could not cheat on Mt. Piano
I could not bring back the pain I caused
I could not tempt fate again
Finally, I couldn’t resist.
I noticed some scratches on the stand
as I sat down on the bench,
which wasn’t fluffy like the old house.
My fingers stroked the piano,
and I played a piece I memorized long ago.
It wasn’t as correct,
and I forgot part of the song
but man did it feel great to play again.

I somehow convinced myself to change my major to music.

A roar of applause rang in my ears
I felt the sweat flow around my body
I paced toward the lobby
Wanting to start on my way home
“Congrats on your last day!”
I turned around and see Manager
Whom has been as good to me
As an artist treats his canvases
Manager hands me an envelope
And shakes as they say “Open it!”
I do, and inside is $5,000
With a note “Go!”

I somehow convinced myself to move to the Big Apple at age 32.

It was the 29th audition held
On the 29th of August
My knee twitches and my eyes
Dart to the ground
While other people whisper
Newcomer walks in
And sits next to me
Their white blouse and black slacks
Complimented their Sapphire eyes
Their hay blonde hair
Barely touched their shoulders
As soon as I could process everything
My number was called
And I went into the audition room

I couldn’t convince myself to wait for them.

I played that section yet again
My hand cramped like never before
I held the pain in my throat
My foot spasmed
Director asked “Come Here!”
I went up, body shaking
And walked to the smell of smoke
“I’m sorry, but I can’t keep you”
“Sir”, I said “If I don’t have this job,
I can’t stay. Please!”
He showed me the exit.

I somehow convinced myself that I was finally done.

I sat on the train.
My phone buzzed.
Mother had died, and
Father asked me to come back
To the house
I met him, with Teacher at his side
“I’ll make a deal with you”, Father said
“If you give me the house,
I will give you my apartment. Deal?”
“As long as I get the Piano” I replied.
“Done”, Teacher said.
I entered the apartment
Sat on the fluffy piano bench
Breathed
And closed my eyes

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Grace Hurd (’21) is an honors math major minoring in English and theatre. In the past, she has also published work for the Crestiad as a contributing writer. “The Piano and I” is her first fictional publication anywhere and her first publication to Pitch.