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He still knew some passages of Chopin, bits andpieces that he still played through in his head as he went about hislabours, but even these were growing fainter in his memory. He had nodoubt that the former dexterity of his fingers was long gone. Afterall, he'd spent the past year sewing frocks and scrubbing floors.The sound that he heard from his piano on this day had no similarity tothe Chopin he was used to hearing. No, this was the sound of Emilytesting one key after the other in a clunky unthinking sequence. Heheard her shifting the stool, playing with the pedals. She played arudimentary scale up and down, then impatiently dragged her finger downthe keyboard, sounding every key on the way. He felt like a child whosedelicate doll was in the hands of an excitable younger sibling.She was still there when he appeared with the tea. She was wearing aclose-fitting yellow day dress. As always, he was expected to smile inher presence. This time, though, the smile was genuine; he was. The bell rung, disrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to thepresent. In contrast to me, most of the other students had been in fullreadiness, and they wasted no time in jumping to their feet and startingto gather their belongings. The first ones were out of the classroom inconsiderably less than ten seconds."Okay, guys," the substitute teacher spoke up. He had to raise his voiceto be heard over the general commotion. "No homework for next time, butwe may have a pop quiz, so be prepared." Scarcely anyone paid him muchattention, though, now that the class and the school day were bothofficially over.I stuffed my textbook, notes and pencil case in my baby blue backpack,lifted it on my right shoulder and trudged out as the last of thestudents. The teacher gave me a surreptitious long look as I went pasthim, and I, for my part, pretended not to notice it.Walking down the hallway, I was surrounded by the bustle, chatter andlaughter of teenagers, most of them happy and anxious to head.
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