– D, D, A, A, now here with your index finger. No, Kamnev, that's too high. Yes, there we go. G, G, F, F, E, E, D.
I felt like a baby bird stolen from the nest. Like a child not knowing alphabet who got forced to read. The bow became my personal devil. Before this moment I never found myself in a situation where I had to hold my fingers this way, the way seemed terribly uncomfortable and ridiculous. I could compare Iosif to my executioner, myself to an unlucky throne heir, fallen under the revolution, waiting for his head to jump off his shoulders.
Iosif repeated himself over and over for a good ten minutes and pointed at certain places on the fingerboard. I felt I sweat from my efforts. The angel played in the background, waiting for me to go.
Iosif moved away, took a sheet from his pile and wrote four notes with their names on it.
– These are open strings. You'll learn them. On the back there's a description of the parts of the instrument. Here you go. The lesson is over. Practice the piece.
I gathered my stuff.
– Goodbye, Alexander Palych, – he quipped.
– Goodbye, Iosif Seraphimovich, – I threw at him and headed to the door.
The serenade flew over me, bidding farewell to me.
At home I slept, ate quickly and began practicing a piece that felt more like a mockery. Thank goodness that I remembered the approximate places where to put my left hand on. The bow rode to the left and to the right, producing screeches.
Kesha had a musical ear, that's me who wasn't lucky. I knew for sure that I was missing the spots, and I couldn't imagine how you can't miss them on a fingerboard with no frets. The guitar was much easier when I was a school student.
My mother entered the room with a glass in her hand.
– Sasha, is that you playing? I almost choked. Play in tune, – she hiccupped.
– I'm trying, mom, – I looked at her with sad eyes.
– Play me something you know.
I began playing my new roulade with pride. D, D, A, A, B, B, A. My mother stopped me.
– Who are you hoping to become? – She slurred her words. – There's no chance at all, that you'll be better than your dead brother. Do you want to play to my grandchildren? They'll get traumatized if they have such a father! – My mother laughed, then frowned again. – Sasha, do you want to be the best? You'll have to forget about food and sleep. I'll be honest with you – I can't imagine you on stage. And, anyway, it's time to go to bed.
– Mom, – I got cheerful, – I'm sure we'll find Kesha, and I'll compete with him.
– Are you going to sleep? – She spoke a bit louder.
– I am.
I left the case on the end table next to my bed. While falling asleep, I remembered about the open string sheet and got it out. Empty circles on stripes. G, D, A, E. While looking at these marks, I thought about just how difficult my path is going to be.
-
I had a dream about me being able to play well. Something happened in the end but I couldn't remember.
I saw Kesha's music theory notebook in the closet. I decided to look through it when I get home.
I learned open strings while eating breakfast. I dressed up and went to another class.
Iosif was late, so I began reading the book I always have with me. I jumped when he arrived. He ran into the dressing room, left a note in an unknown notebook and came to me.
– Hello, Kamnev. Let's go.
I had to rush after him. We got to the closed door which he opened with a key.
