Every Note Played(9)

Karina got little more from the nuns and her friends. She remembers feeling horrified and embarrassed when Zofia told her that Natalia was giving boys blow jobs under the bleachers in the gymnasium, mostly because Karina wasn’t quite sure what a blow job was and didn’t have the courage to ask. Whatever it was, she knew for sure that Natalia was going to hell for it.

When Karina was sixteen, her boisterous and beautiful friend, Martyna, was sent away to live with an aunt. She returned nine months later, her disposition subdued, her eyes averting others, pointing to her shoes. Everyone in town gossiped about her. Martyna was damaged goods. No one would ever marry her now. Such a shame.

Karina had imagined the baby Martyna left behind, a daughter or son she would never know, and the spinster’s life ahead of her. Right then, she’d made a promise to herself. She would not end up ruined like Martyna or imprisoned like her mother, chained to the kitchen, cooking and cleaning day and night for decades, raising five children. Karina would not lose control of her life.

When Grace was a freshman in high school, they had “the talk.” Karina was determined to make it more informative than the “wisdom” her mother had imparted to her and consciously didn’t include any Catholic shame or misogynistic mythology. No sex before marriage, no birth control—those aren’t God’s rules, honey. Those rules were made by men. They were in the car, on their way to one of Grace’s soccer games, more side by side than face-to-face, but a big improvement over Karina’s mother’s back side. Karina’s speech included information about condoms and the pill, STDs and pregnancy, intimacy and love.

Sex isn’t a sin But you have to protect yourself. Birth control is the woman’s responsibility. She winces now as the words play in her mind, just as she did when she said them aloud to Grace in the car, reliving the guilt. Using birth control isn’t a sin. She did what she had to do.

Thou shalt not lie.

Lying is a sin.

If Grace remembered one thing from that conversation, Karina always hoped it was the admonition Whatever you do, don’t get pregnant. She’s sure she repeated it several times, and although she could only glance at the side of Grace’s face while driving, Karina could sense Grace’s embarrassment and eye rolling.

She looks at Grace straight on now, and her face is self-assured and radiant. She’s in control of her life. Karina’s glad to see the message was received, but she didn’t mean ever. Did she somehow communicate that as well?

“Well, I am pretty awesome. So it was all worth it, right, Mom?”

“Yes, honey.”

“Do you teach at a school?” asks Matt.

“No, at home. In my living room.”

“Oh.”

“Really, she’s at least as good as my dad, but he gets all the glory.”

“Have you talked with your father?” asks Karina.

“Not recently. Why?”

Karina hasn’t heard anything about Richard since that horrible day in July when she went to see him. Although he couldn’t open the wine bottle, she’s still not convinced he really has ALS. He probably has something like carpal tunnel or tendinitis, injuries common to every pianist at some point, pesky but ultimately benign. If Richard really has ALS, he’d tell his only daughter, wouldn’t he?

“I think he’s supposed to play here in Chicago next month.”

“I don’t know anything about it.” Grace shrugs her right shoulder. “Why are you still keeping track of where he’s going to be? You need to get your own life, Mom.”

Karina feels her cheeks flush. Grace’s quick comment is too sharp, an insulting slap, and it feels cruel, especially in front of Matt, someone who doesn’t know Karina’s complicated history. But she believes Grace’s insensitivity was unintentional and swallows the urge to defend herself. She and Grace have had many heart-to-hearts about this over the past year. Now that Grace is in college, Karina could move. She could live in New York or New Orleans or Paris. She could give up teaching and play again. She could reinvent her life. Or at least track down the one she abandoned. She could do anything. Or at least something.

“Where’s your musical talent?” Matt asks Grace.

“I’m, like, the best karaoke singer ever.”

“The best worst. You sure you weren’t adopted?”

“I look just like her.”

“Or maybe you were dropped on your head?”

“That would explain my taste in men.”

This time Matt shoves Grace’s arm, and Grace giggles. Men, not boys. When did her little girl become a young woman?

It occurs to her that Grace is the same age Karina was when she met Richard. They were in Sherman Leiper’s Technique class together. She knew nothing about Richard except that he seemed awkward and intensely driven. She could feel him staring at her in class, too shy to talk, for almost an entire semester. Then one day, he did.

They were at a keg party at one of the dorms. Emboldened by beer, he introduced himself. One beer turned into many, catalyzing their attraction, but not until she heard him play piano did she fall for him. They were alone in a practice room, and he played Schumann’s Fantasie in C Major, op. 17. He was so connected to the piece that he seemed to become unconscious of her presence. His playing was powerful yet gentle, assured, masterful. And the composition is so utterly romantic, still one of her favorites. By the time he played the final note, she was in love.