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My violin student suddenly got much better. I think I figured out how.
“Alright, that’s enough for the day. You need more practice at home. Try for more precision at the pizzicato,” I told my student. She put down the violin but didn’t put it in the case immediately. Instead, she held it in her hand, her eyes vacant. After a while, she looked at me with watery eyes, as if about to cry and asked.
“Andre, do you think I’m gonna make it into Juilliard?”
I didn’t want to answer. But I was also worried about something else. Kayla was my only student. If she suddenly decided that she had no chance of entering Juilliard Conservatory, I would be out of a job.
“Yes, yes you certainly can. You just need a bit more practice. I believe in you,” I lied. Kayla was your typical suburban middle-class child – polite, driven and talented. But to get into Juilliard – one of the most prestigious musical institutions in the entire world, one needed more than that. One would need obsession over drive, hunger over politeness and God given gifts over talent. Of those things, Kayla had none.
She took a moment more and then put the violin in the case. “Thank you, Andre. See you next week!” she told me. I felt bad for lying to her, but sometimes in life, you gotta do what’s necessary for survival.
The Reach was also your typical, run-of-the-mill suburban family. Both parents work a white-collar job and want their children to succeed in an increasingly competitive and demanding world.
I was in a pickle. I wanted Kayla to succeed, but at the same time, with her intensity and talents, she was simply not cut out for it. I walked out of the room and was greeted by Max. Max was a golden retriever and had been with the Reach family for over 5 years. He was on the friendly side for a house keeping dog. He licked the hand that I reached out and rubbed his head on my arm. That interaction with Max was possibly the only positive thing I had all day.
As I got out of the room, Peter Reach walked in and moments later I heard shouting, followed by crashing sounds of items being thrown around. I even heard the words “useless” and “waste of money”. I pretended to hear nothing and walked out of the house.
I took a long, slow walk back to the train. The cold afternoon air mixed with the empty streets to paint a bleak scene. The scenery on the train wasn’t much better. Everyone around me was consumed with their smartphones. There was one musician who played a song that he wrote. No clap after the performance. I wondered if Kayla would end up like him one day if she did not get into Juilliard.
Back at home, I microwaved a pizza and binged my favorite thing: horror stories. This time, a man had fed his cat into a demonic door, thinking it would bring back his daughter. But what returned what a demon in the dead corpse of his daughter. It sounded derivative of that famous Stephen King novel – Pet Sematary, but I couldn’t expect much more from a free horror show online.
My meal finished, I checked social media. People talked about their jobs and complained about their pay, the increasing living cost and the seemingly deteriorating infrastructure across the country, and here I was living in all of it. I checked the leaflet of the contest. New York’s Up and Coming Classical Talents. When I put Kayla’s name in the competition 6 months ago, we were both confident she would make it. She passed the first round with flying colors. But there were still two more rounds to go. Now, I wasn’t so sure of our chances.
The class in the following week wasn’t much better. I knew that “God Save The King” was a difficult piece, but to have struggled so long without any improvement, Kayla’s chance wasn’t looking good. After our practice, Peter Reach came and talked to me.
“How’s she looking Andre?”
“She’s good. Just need a little more nudge in the right direction. She has the talent, just lacking in a bit of experience” I lied.
“That’s good news to hear! We are all rooted for you two. I’ll be there when she performs you know, front row seats if we can get them.”
“I’ll do my best. But Peter, this competition, they only accept 3 students, and so far hundreds have registered.”
“Ah nothing about that. Me and Petunia, we believe in Kayla. She can do it. We’re paying you good money to make sure that Kalya got into the conservatory.”
“I know, I’ll try my best.”
After the lesson, I greeted Max like always and got on the train back home. Kayla said something that made me think. She said she was willing to do whatever it takes to win the competition, no matter the cost. She had this look about her eyes. Full of eagerness to win. But I didn’t know what I could do more to make her better. I already tried from draconian regiments to lax encouraging routines and so far, nothing worked. But Kayla was adamant this time. She said she had come across a new practice method that would help her improve. I thought nothing of it and went home.
On Monday, the day before our lesson, I got a strange feeling. It was as if something had gone wrong and the universe was sending me a signal. It was just a hunch, but it resonated so powerfully that it made my stomach feel sick. I dropped the meal I was holding and went to bed early, hoping that it was just something I ate.
When I arrived at the Reaches’ residence on Tuesday, something felt off. Petunia Reach was home, and she looked visibly upset. She didn’t even bother greeting me. I chalked it up to her having a bad day and entered Kayla’s study like usual.
Kayla played the piece beautifully. I was completely surprised. It was as if she had suddenly improved overnight. She hit the notes with emotion. After the first piece was finished, we moved on to “Totentanz”. While she still has some problems, her playing was definitely better than before.
“Wow Kayla, you got a lot better. Did you spend extra hours practicing?”
“Yeah. I told you I would do whatever it takes,” she replied.
When the lesson was over, I walked out of the room and waited in the hallway for Max like usual. Only, he didn’t come. I waited for a while more in the empty hallway until Petunia came in from the chair outside. She took a look at me, and I realized that her eyes were slightly red.
“Are you waiting for Max?” she asked.
“Yeah. I got used to him sniffing my hand. Where is he? Is he sick?”
“Max’s dead. Someone poisoned him and even cut off his head. It was horrible” she started sobbing again. The news hit me like a truck. I loved that dog so much. He was the only bright thing in what was otherwise a bleary day in a bleary neighborhood.
“We made a grave for him if you want to drop by. It’s in the backyard.”
“Thanks. I’ll give it a look.”
I stood at Max’s grave for the better half of that afternoon. It was just a mound of earth with a wooden cross with “Max” haphazardly carved across. At least this day had one consolation, Kayla was getting better.
That night I had a nightmare. I was guiding Kayla through her usual practice routine. Then, out of nowhere, Max showed up. His body was decaying, muscles and sinews showing up in places where yellow fur should be. He was without his head, but I was certain that he was snarling at me. Then the dog dashed towards me and pinned me down. I looked to the distance. His head was using its tongue to slowly but surely move towards me, the jaws foaming and constantly biting like a pair of pincers. Kayla just stood there, looking, observing the macabre scene. Eventually, the head got close enough, and it aimed for my face.
I woke with a start. It was 3 A.M. I spent the rest of the night listening to calming music and reviewing the pieces that I taught Kayla.
Finally, the date of the competition arrived. I arrived early at Juilliard and waited for the Reaches. They came soon after.
“Andre, I’m nervous,” Kayla told me while the contestant right before her was performing.
“Don’t you worry about a thing Kayla. You tried your best and you’ve improved. Now just go on up there and show them what you’re made of” I made my closest imitation of a confident instructor. Seeing her nod her head and turned to the stage with determination almost made me believe I was one. But the fact was, I was as scared as she was, maybe even more. If Kayla didn’t pass the second round, my career would be over. I looked at her and prayed that she did well. My hands were shaking so hard from anxiety, I had to bite them to calm down. My heart skipped a beat at every note that Kayla used to make mistakes in, fearing that she would fumble. But at the end she delivered the pieces perfectly and with emotion and received ovation from the judge board.
The result came after 3 days. Kayla got into the third round. I jumped for joy the moment she texted me the news. That day, I treated myself to a burger dinner. It was expensive, and I savored every bite.
The real work was starting. We had around 3 months and we now had to master what I dreaded: Danse Macabre and Caprice No. 24. Both pieces had a wide range of techniques to allow the performer room for interpretation and they were of course very challenging. We practiced the pieces in the past but never focused on them, I didn’t believe Kayla would pass the second round. Now that she had, my expectations of her changed. She would have to give it everything she got. And things worked out in the beginning. She was making strides in the beginning parts, but the more we practiced, the worse she became. It was as if whatever talent she had prior to the third round just up and vanished. After one afternoon full of struggle and error fixing, I went to Peter Reach and talked to him.
“Hey Peter, so about the third round. I think it’s really difficult, I’m gonna need Kayla to spend more time practicing at home. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll give her a nudge. You just focus on getting her into that conservatory, okay?”
As soon as I left the room that afternoon, I heard items being thrown against the walls again. “Goddamnit Kayla! Do you know how much I’ve paid and toil for you to get into that competition?” the sound from the room rang out, reverberating throughout the hallway. Petunia stood outside near the kitchen, her hands jumped at every crash and thud in the room.
That night, Kayla texted me. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Please trust in me” she wrote. I told her that I believed in her and was sorry about her being told off. She didn’t reply.
By the next week, when I arrived at the Reaches’ house, there was a group of people and they were all wearing black. I stood out like a sore thump with my denim shirt and white T-shirt. I looked around for a while, drawing stares and strange looks from people until I found Kayla sitting in a chair in her practicing room. Her eyes were red, just like her mother’s that day.
“Kayla, what happened? Did someone pass away?”
It was as if she was waiting for someone to ask her that. She sprang up and hugged me and cried.
“It’s my mom. She died. Someone crashed into her, Andre.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” I patted her on the back.
“They even took her head away. We couldn’t even have an open casket.”
“My god, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry Kayla. Look, just take a couple of weeks off okay. I’ll tell your father.”
“No. Father said we should still practice today.”
“Where is your father? I don’t think we should practice today.”
“He’s upstairs. Andre please! Mother would have wanted this. I have to give it all I got.”
I had no heart to turn the girl down. So we closed the room’s door and began our practice session. The sound of the practice intermingled with the steps from people outside the room. The air was cold and dry, but my ears were red hot. I was embarrassed with myself, I should have asked Kayla first if she was free, now I was stuck here making her practice her pieces when her mother had died. I had no heart to do the practice, but Kayla was fully committed. She played the pieces quite well, making no mistakes. I told her that she had really improved and ended the practice early.
Back at home, I was upset and still embarrassed. I still remembered the stares of people the moment I walked out of the Reaches’ practice room. They looked at me like I was a freak for butting into a funeral. I needed something to take away the embarrassment, so I cooked my favorite dish as a treat – goat curry. The smell of spices wafted through the air, making my mouth water. My neighbors came by to complain but I paid it no mind, I wanted to give myself something nice.
That night, I reviewed my teaching plan with Kayla. She had mastered the pieces, the only things left were now keeping her consistent and making sure she added her own voice into the pieces. The first thing was easy, the second thing was nearly impossible in such a short time, but I figured Kayla would manage it with her determination.
I had another nightmare. Kayla and I were still in her room, practicing. But suddenly the doors slowly opened on their own, and in walked her mother’s headless corpse. Its gait was inhuman, unnatural, yet somehow I still knew that it was facing me. Then the now decayed corpse of Max sauntered in the room, making the air reek with a smell of rotten mean. I turned to look at Kayla, she was still deep in her practice, her eyes completely shut. Then the two headless corpses rushed towards me and that was when I woke up sweating. My phone showed 3 A.M.
In our next practice session, Kayla managed to make no mistakes in her practice. She had improved considerably. The strange thing was that it seemed grief had only strengthened her skill and conviction. My admiration for her grew. Here she was, a teenager who had to deal with the loss of her mother and her pet and still forged on. I reflected on my life, so many wasted chances and blunders. I promised myself to put everything I had into making Kayla the virtuoso she deserved to be.
Kayla was only lacking in one thing now. She had to add her own flair to the pieces, to make them truly hers. Only, we were hitting a wall once again. Kayla tried to add her own expressions to the pieces, but they just came out forced and clumsy. We tried for one more month, but whatever she added seemed offbeat and out of place. Finally, after one frustrating afternoon, I told Kayla.
“Look, I really appreciate the tremendous amount of effort that you’ve put in. But we’ve been hitting our heads against the wall for over a month now and made no real progress. I think it’d be best if you just keep the pieces like they were.”
“But then the judges won’t give me point for creativity.”
“Well yes, but I still think playing the pieces as-is is the safer bet. Maybe the other contestants are just like us.”
“I want to stand out, Andre. You told me I could do this. I’m not just doing it for me. I’m doing it for Max and mom.”
I couldn’t find anything to say. She was right. But I wasn’t wrong either. We were in way over our heads. But I looked at Kayla’s eyes, so full of determination and willpower. I steeled myself and told her that we would try again. I told her that she needed to bring out her best and then some, and that she needed to spend almost every waking minute practicing. Draconian, I knew. But this was our last shot at a chance to win. She nodded her head, tears falling down. I told her that things would be fine and I’d take care of it.
I walked out of the house and crashed into Peter Reach on my way out. It seemed he had just gotten back home from drinking. He really had changed from the man I knew one month ago. He wore a casual T-shirt with suit pants and didn’t even bother to wear matching socks. He looked disheveled and reeked of booze. I told him that me and Kayla were going to try our best and that he should encourage her instead of shouting at her. He only nodded and without another word, entered the house. I didn’t stay this time to hear if there were any other sound of items being thrown on walls.
Two weeks before the competition, the Reaches had another problem. Peter Reach had been drinking at a bar and had a fight with the bouncer. The bouncer pushed him too hard and he fell, his head falling on the concrete. Kayla phoned me from the hospital and told me that her father was now in a vegetative state. She would be taken care of by some relatives from out of town and would move to live with them. The relative would stay in her house for two more weeks until after the competition and after that they would move.
This time, Kayla performed the pieces beautifully. She had practiced so much that her even her calloused fingertips were bleeding. I had never been prouder. I told her that the suffering of her entire family was so that she could have her moment to shine in the competition.
On the morning before the competition, Kayla received another bad news. The hospital where her father was being kept alive had a power cut, and the backup generator didn’t activate in time. Her father was gone. Kayla didn’t even cry this time, just stared vacantly into the empty space ahead of her. What was worse, her father’s corpse was later stolen that night from the morgue. They found him in the back yard of his home, his head missing. She cried when she told me the news.
That night, I had to drink a double dose of sleeping pills in order to fall asleep. In my dream, Kayla and I were on the stage. She performed her pieces while I was tied up. In the audience were the corpses of two people. My instinct told me those were the Reaches. Then, from the isle, a corpse of a dog walked slowly towards me. It had three heads on it. Petunia’s head on the right, Max’s head in the middle, and Peter’s head on the left. The dog body had lost most of its skin now, there were only decaying flesh and bones left. It jumped on the stage and stood next to me. From behind the dog, a door opened and it advanced towards me, inside of it were fire and crimson light and I could feel the heat radiating, searing my skin and charring my clothes. The alarm woke me from the nightmare. I took a moment to calm down then brushed my teeth, ignored my neighbor’s complain about the smell again and put on my best suit. This was a day long in the making.
I arrived early at the conservatory as usual. After several minutes, Kayla arrived with an unfamiliar woman. This must have been the relative that she told me about. I led Kayla to the backstage and waited for our turn.
“This is it, Kayla. You’ve got this. We’ve both sacrificed so much. I believe in you. Now go out there and show them what you got” I told her when it was her turn.
Once again. I shuddered at every note that she improvised, looking at the judges’ faces to see if they disapproved. Kayla played the pieces beautifully, her music rising in waves with the emotions, the crescendo drowning out everything around her. In that moment, Kayla was like an angel sent to rescue me. When she finished, I shed a tear. The judges stood up and applauded; we had succeeded. I walked out onto the stage with Kayla and waved at the judges, it was only right, this was part of my work as well. I hugged Kayla.
“Everything you and I’ve sacrificed for led to this. Do not forget this moment. I’m proud of you Kayla”
She had only time to nod and smile before I heard footstep from behind and was pushed down on the ground by forceful hands.
“Gotcha you murdering bastard. Everyone get away, we’re apprehending a serial murderer” the voice boomed. His grip tightened and it hurt my arms. I wiggled but was not successful.
“Kayla Reach? I’m sorry kid. This psycho is your music teacher, right? Well, he killed your parents. We found their heads at his apartment in some sort of ritualistic circle. There was a dog’s head too. His neighbor’s been complaining about the rotting smell for weeks. I’m sorry you had to find out this way kid.”
Kayla looked at me, her eyes full of fear and shortly after, anger mixed with bewilderment. She broke down, crying. Didn’t she know, to make it in this world we had to sacrifice everything? Didn’t she know I did it for her? For both of our future careers? How could she look at me like that? I had to do it. And I would do it again. For her. For me.
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“Alright, that’s enough for the day. You need more practice at home. Try for more precision at the pizzicato,” I told my student. She put down the violin but didn’t put it in the case immediately. Instead, she held it in her hand, her eyes vacant. After a while, she looked at me with watery eyes, as if about to cry and asked.
“Andre, do you think I’m gonna make it into Juilliard?”
I didn’t want to answer. But I was also worried about something else. Kayla was my only student. If she suddenly decided that she had no chance of entering Juilliard Conservatory, I would be out of a job.
“Yes, yes you certainly can. You just need a bit more practice. I believe in you,” I lied. Kayla was your typical suburban middle-class child – polite, driven and talented. But to get into Juilliard – one of the most prestigious musical institutions in the entire world, one needed more than that. One would need obsession over drive, hunger over politeness and God given gifts over talent. Of those things, Kayla had none.
She took a moment more and then put the violin in the case. “Thank you, Andre. See you next week!” she told me. I felt bad for lying to her, but sometimes in life, you gotta do what’s necessary for survival.
The Reach was also your typical, run-of-the-mill suburban family. Both parents work a white-collar job and want their children to succeed in an increasingly competitive and demanding world.
I was in a pickle. I wanted Kayla to succeed, but at the same time, with her intensity and talents, she was simply not cut out for it. I walked out of the room and was greeted by Max. Max was a golden retriever and had been with the Reach family for over 5 years. He was on the friendly side for a house keeping dog. He licked the hand that I reached out and rubbed his head on my arm. That interaction with Max was possibly the only positive thing I had all day.
As I got out of the room, Peter Reach walked in and moments later I heard shouting, followed by crashing sounds of items being thrown around. I even heard the words “useless” and “waste of money”. I pretended to hear nothing and walked out of the house.
I took a long, slow walk back to the train. The cold afternoon air mixed with the empty streets to paint a bleak scene. The scenery on the train wasn’t much better. Everyone around me was consumed with their smartphones. There was one musician who played a song that he wrote. No clap after the performance. I wondered if Kayla would end up like him one day if she did not get into Juilliard.
Back at home, I microwaved a pizza and binged my favorite thing: horror stories. This time, a man had fed his cat into a demonic door, thinking it would bring back his daughter. But what returned what a demon in the dead corpse of his daughter. It sounded derivative of that famous Stephen King novel – Pet Sematary, but I couldn’t expect much more from a free horror show online.
My meal finished, I checked social media. People talked about their jobs and complained about their pay, the increasing living cost and the seemingly deteriorating infrastructure across the country, and here I was living in all of it. I checked the leaflet of the contest. New York’s Up and Coming Classical Talents. When I put Kayla’s name in the competition 6 months ago, we were both confident she would make it. She passed the first round with flying colors. But there were still two more rounds to go. Now, I wasn’t so sure of our chances.
The class in the following week wasn’t much better. I knew that “God Save The King” was a difficult piece, but to have struggled so long without any improvement, Kayla’s chance wasn’t looking good. After our practice, Peter Reach came and talked to me.
“How’s she looking Andre?”
“She’s good. Just need a little more nudge in the right direction. She has the talent, just lacking in a bit of experience” I lied.
“That’s good news to hear! We are all rooted for you two. I’ll be there when she performs you know, front row seats if we can get them.”
“I’ll do my best. But Peter, this competition, they only accept 3 students, and so far hundreds have registered.”
“Ah nothing about that. Me and Petunia, we believe in Kayla. She can do it. We’re paying you good money to make sure that Kalya got into the conservatory.”
“I know, I’ll try my best.”
After the lesson, I greeted Max like always and got on the train back home. Kayla said something that made me think. She said she was willing to do whatever it takes to win the competition, no matter the cost. She had this look about her eyes. Full of eagerness to win. But I didn’t know what I could do more to make her better. I already tried from draconian regiments to lax encouraging routines and so far, nothing worked. But Kayla was adamant this time. She said she had come across a new practice method that would help her improve. I thought nothing of it and went home.
On Monday, the day before our lesson, I got a strange feeling. It was as if something had gone wrong and the universe was sending me a signal. It was just a hunch, but it resonated so powerfully that it made my stomach feel sick. I dropped the meal I was holding and went to bed early, hoping that it was just something I ate.
When I arrived at the Reaches’ residence on Tuesday, something felt off. Petunia Reach was home, and she looked visibly upset. She didn’t even bother greeting me. I chalked it up to her having a bad day and entered Kayla’s study like usual.
Kayla played the piece beautifully. I was completely surprised. It was as if she had suddenly improved overnight. She hit the notes with emotion. After the first piece was finished, we moved on to “Totentanz”. While she still has some problems, her playing was definitely better than before.
“Wow Kayla, you got a lot better. Did you spend extra hours practicing?”
“Yeah. I told you I would do whatever it takes,” she replied.
When the lesson was over, I walked out of the room and waited in the hallway for Max like usual. Only, he didn’t come. I waited for a while more in the empty hallway until Petunia came in from the chair outside. She took a look at me, and I realized that her eyes were slightly red.
“Are you waiting for Max?” she asked.
“Yeah. I got used to him sniffing my hand. Where is he? Is he sick?”
“Max’s dead. Someone poisoned him and even cut off his head. It was horrible” she started sobbing again. The news hit me like a truck. I loved that dog so much. He was the only bright thing in what was otherwise a bleary day in a bleary neighborhood.
“We made a grave for him if you want to drop by. It’s in the backyard.”
“Thanks. I’ll give it a look.”
I stood at Max’s grave for the better half of that afternoon. It was just a mound of earth with a wooden cross with “Max” haphazardly carved across. At least this day had one consolation, Kayla was getting better.
That night I had a nightmare. I was guiding Kayla through her usual practice routine. Then, out of nowhere, Max showed up. His body was decaying, muscles and sinews showing up in places where yellow fur should be. He was without his head, but I was certain that he was snarling at me. Then the dog dashed towards me and pinned me down. I looked to the distance. His head was using its tongue to slowly but surely move towards me, the jaws foaming and constantly biting like a pair of pincers. Kayla just stood there, looking, observing the macabre scene. Eventually, the head got close enough, and it aimed for my face.
I woke with a start. It was 3 A.M. I spent the rest of the night listening to calming music and reviewing the pieces that I taught Kayla.
Finally, the date of the competition arrived. I arrived early at Juilliard and waited for the Reaches. They came soon after.
“Andre, I’m nervous,” Kayla told me while the contestant right before her was performing.
“Don’t you worry about a thing Kayla. You tried your best and you’ve improved. Now just go on up there and show them what you’re made of” I made my closest imitation of a confident instructor. Seeing her nod her head and turned to the stage with determination almost made me believe I was one. But the fact was, I was as scared as she was, maybe even more. If Kayla didn’t pass the second round, my career would be over. I looked at her and prayed that she did well. My hands were shaking so hard from anxiety, I had to bite them to calm down. My heart skipped a beat at every note that Kayla used to make mistakes in, fearing that she would fumble. But at the end she delivered the pieces perfectly and with emotion and received ovation from the judge board.
The result came after 3 days. Kayla got into the third round. I jumped for joy the moment she texted me the news. That day, I treated myself to a burger dinner. It was expensive, and I savored every bite.
The real work was starting. We had around 3 months and we now had to master what I dreaded: Danse Macabre and Caprice No. 24. Both pieces had a wide range of techniques to allow the performer room for interpretation and they were of course very challenging. We practiced the pieces in the past but never focused on them, I didn’t believe Kayla would pass the second round. Now that she had, my expectations of her changed. She would have to give it everything she got. And things worked out in the beginning. She was making strides in the beginning parts, but the more we practiced, the worse she became. It was as if whatever talent she had prior to the third round just up and vanished. After one afternoon full of struggle and error fixing, I went to Peter Reach and talked to him.
“Hey Peter, so about the third round. I think it’s really difficult, I’m gonna need Kayla to spend more time practicing at home. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll give her a nudge. You just focus on getting her into that conservatory, okay?”
As soon as I left the room that afternoon, I heard items being thrown against the walls again. “Goddamnit Kayla! Do you know how much I’ve paid and toil for you to get into that competition?” the sound from the room rang out, reverberating throughout the hallway. Petunia stood outside near the kitchen, her hands jumped at every crash and thud in the room.
That night, Kayla texted me. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Please trust in me” she wrote. I told her that I believed in her and was sorry about her being told off. She didn’t reply.
By the next week, when I arrived at the Reaches’ house, there was a group of people and they were all wearing black. I stood out like a sore thump with my denim shirt and white T-shirt. I looked around for a while, drawing stares and strange looks from people until I found Kayla sitting in a chair in her practicing room. Her eyes were red, just like her mother’s that day.
“Kayla, what happened? Did someone pass away?”
It was as if she was waiting for someone to ask her that. She sprang up and hugged me and cried.
“It’s my mom. She died. Someone crashed into her, Andre.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” I patted her on the back.
“They even took her head away. We couldn’t even have an open casket.”
“My god, that’s horrible. I’m so sorry Kayla. Look, just take a couple of weeks off okay. I’ll tell your father.”
“No. Father said we should still practice today.”
“Where is your father? I don’t think we should practice today.”
“He’s upstairs. Andre please! Mother would have wanted this. I have to give it all I got.”
I had no heart to turn the girl down. So we closed the room’s door and began our practice session. The sound of the practice intermingled with the steps from people outside the room. The air was cold and dry, but my ears were red hot. I was embarrassed with myself, I should have asked Kayla first if she was free, now I was stuck here making her practice her pieces when her mother had died. I had no heart to do the practice, but Kayla was fully committed. She played the pieces quite well, making no mistakes. I told her that she had really improved and ended the practice early.
Back at home, I was upset and still embarrassed. I still remembered the stares of people the moment I walked out of the Reaches’ practice room. They looked at me like I was a freak for butting into a funeral. I needed something to take away the embarrassment, so I cooked my favorite dish as a treat – goat curry. The smell of spices wafted through the air, making my mouth water. My neighbors came by to complain but I paid it no mind, I wanted to give myself something nice.
That night, I reviewed my teaching plan with Kayla. She had mastered the pieces, the only things left were now keeping her consistent and making sure she added her own voice into the pieces. The first thing was easy, the second thing was nearly impossible in such a short time, but I figured Kayla would manage it with her determination.
I had another nightmare. Kayla and I were still in her room, practicing. But suddenly the doors slowly opened on their own, and in walked her mother’s headless corpse. Its gait was inhuman, unnatural, yet somehow I still knew that it was facing me. Then the now decayed corpse of Max sauntered in the room, making the air reek with a smell of rotten mean. I turned to look at Kayla, she was still deep in her practice, her eyes completely shut. Then the two headless corpses rushed towards me and that was when I woke up sweating. My phone showed 3 A.M.
In our next practice session, Kayla managed to make no mistakes in her practice. She had improved considerably. The strange thing was that it seemed grief had only strengthened her skill and conviction. My admiration for her grew. Here she was, a teenager who had to deal with the loss of her mother and her pet and still forged on. I reflected on my life, so many wasted chances and blunders. I promised myself to put everything I had into making Kayla the virtuoso she deserved to be.
Kayla was only lacking in one thing now. She had to add her own flair to the pieces, to make them truly hers. Only, we were hitting a wall once again. Kayla tried to add her own expressions to the pieces, but they just came out forced and clumsy. We tried for one more month, but whatever she added seemed offbeat and out of place. Finally, after one frustrating afternoon, I told Kayla.
“Look, I really appreciate the tremendous amount of effort that you’ve put in. But we’ve been hitting our heads against the wall for over a month now and made no real progress. I think it’d be best if you just keep the pieces like they were.”
“But then the judges won’t give me point for creativity.”
“Well yes, but I still think playing the pieces as-is is the safer bet. Maybe the other contestants are just like us.”
“I want to stand out, Andre. You told me I could do this. I’m not just doing it for me. I’m doing it for Max and mom.”
I couldn’t find anything to say. She was right. But I wasn’t wrong either. We were in way over our heads. But I looked at Kayla’s eyes, so full of determination and willpower. I steeled myself and told her that we would try again. I told her that she needed to bring out her best and then some, and that she needed to spend almost every waking minute practicing. Draconian, I knew. But this was our last shot at a chance to win. She nodded her head, tears falling down. I told her that things would be fine and I’d take care of it.
I walked out of the house and crashed into Peter Reach on my way out. It seemed he had just gotten back home from drinking. He really had changed from the man I knew one month ago. He wore a casual T-shirt with suit pants and didn’t even bother to wear matching socks. He looked disheveled and reeked of booze. I told him that me and Kayla were going to try our best and that he should encourage her instead of shouting at her. He only nodded and without another word, entered the house. I didn’t stay this time to hear if there were any other sound of items being thrown on walls.
Two weeks before the competition, the Reaches had another problem. Peter Reach had been drinking at a bar and had a fight with the bouncer. The bouncer pushed him too hard and he fell, his head falling on the concrete. Kayla phoned me from the hospital and told me that her father was now in a vegetative state. She would be taken care of by some relatives from out of town and would move to live with them. The relative would stay in her house for two more weeks until after the competition and after that they would move.
This time, Kayla performed the pieces beautifully. She had practiced so much that her even her calloused fingertips were bleeding. I had never been prouder. I told her that the suffering of her entire family was so that she could have her moment to shine in the competition.
On the morning before the competition, Kayla received another bad news. The hospital where her father was being kept alive had a power cut, and the backup generator didn’t activate in time. Her father was gone. Kayla didn’t even cry this time, just stared vacantly into the empty space ahead of her. What was worse, her father’s corpse was later stolen that night from the morgue. They found him in the back yard of his home, his head missing. She cried when she told me the news.
That night, I had to drink a double dose of sleeping pills in order to fall asleep. In my dream, Kayla and I were on the stage. She performed her pieces while I was tied up. In the audience were the corpses of two people. My instinct told me those were the Reaches. Then, from the isle, a corpse of a dog walked slowly towards me. It had three heads on it. Petunia’s head on the right, Max’s head in the middle, and Peter’s head on the left. The dog body had lost most of its skin now, there were only decaying flesh and bones left. It jumped on the stage and stood next to me. From behind the dog, a door opened and it advanced towards me, inside of it were fire and crimson light and I could feel the heat radiating, searing my skin and charring my clothes. The alarm woke me from the nightmare. I took a moment to calm down then brushed my teeth, ignored my neighbor’s complain about the smell again and put on my best suit. This was a day long in the making.
I arrived early at the conservatory as usual. After several minutes, Kayla arrived with an unfamiliar woman. This must have been the relative that she told me about. I led Kayla to the backstage and waited for our turn.
“This is it, Kayla. You’ve got this. We’ve both sacrificed so much. I believe in you. Now go out there and show them what you got” I told her when it was her turn.
Once again. I shuddered at every note that she improvised, looking at the judges’ faces to see if they disapproved. Kayla played the pieces beautifully, her music rising in waves with the emotions, the crescendo drowning out everything around her. In that moment, Kayla was like an angel sent to rescue me. When she finished, I shed a tear. The judges stood up and applauded; we had succeeded. I walked out onto the stage with Kayla and waved at the judges, it was only right, this was part of my work as well. I hugged Kayla.
“Everything you and I’ve sacrificed for led to this. Do not forget this moment. I’m proud of you Kayla”
She had only time to nod and smile before I heard footstep from behind and was pushed down on the ground by forceful hands.
“Gotcha you murdering bastard. Everyone get away, we’re apprehending a serial murderer” the voice boomed. His grip tightened and it hurt my arms. I wiggled but was not successful.
“Kayla Reach? I’m sorry kid. This psycho is your music teacher, right? Well, he killed your parents. We found their heads at his apartment in some sort of ritualistic circle. There was a dog’s head too. His neighbor’s been complaining about the rotting smell for weeks. I’m sorry you had to find out this way kid.”
Kayla looked at me, her eyes full of fear and shortly after, anger mixed with bewilderment. She broke down, crying. Didn’t she know, to make it in this world we had to sacrifice everything? Didn’t she know I did it for her? For both of our future careers? How could she look at me like that? I had to do it. And I would do it again. For her. For me.
#entertainment
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| 8,000 mlx | |
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