– No, Iosif Seraphimovich, I can't, – she looked at the floor.
– But I can! – A voice could be heard behind their backs. – Thirty-two thirty-second notes.
– You're some kind of unrecognized genius, Kamnev.
– I could say the same but without being sarcastic, – Sasha opened her case.
– Shush. Let's continue.
While we were looking through not-so-new information for me, I noticed a small piece on the table, a one-page piece. Stealthily, while Iosif was distracted with Sasha's tarantella, I picked up my diva and began playing in the silent moment.
– Get this, thitry-second notes – they're light, quick… Kamnev, what are you doing?
I continued performing the piece, not looking at him, even when he put his trembling chicken leg upon my shoulder.
– Kamnev, respond, goddammit!
I stopped.
– What should I tell you? Here we mostly have eighth notes. Eighth and quarter pauses. Everything's just too simple.
– We're done for today. You know the durations, I don't need anything else from you today.
– But we still have some times left. Maybe you could show me something new?
– Get out, Kamnev.
I didn't say anything.
While I was getting dressed in the hallway, my ears caught a funny conversation.
– …It's impossible. No. I refuse to believe in it. He studied before me, somewhere.
– Iosif Seraphimovich, don't worry.
– Alexander Pavlovich! – Sasha rushed from behind the corner.
– What's up, Sasha? You had to leave too?
She only smiled.
– There's a concert in the school soon. Unfortunately, despite all your talent, you won't be performing. I've been getting ready for this my whole life. Do you know Vittorio Monti?
– I think I do. He wrote something similar to your tarantella.
Sasha laughed out loud and began making a parody of Monti's fast part of the piece.
– The entrance is free. Come to the concert! It's going to happen right in the concert hall. I'll be looking for you in the seats.
– I'm sold. I'll come.
– Good luck, Alexander Pavlovich! God loves you.
How kind she is. If she isn't the purest creature on this earth then I don't know who is.
-
Today was a warm sunny day. I learned this when I went to smoke on the balcony.
Mom said she needed to do something, asked me to lock the door after her and left.
I was sleeping when Sasha called. She invited me to the park. I got ready instantly.
Sasha sat on a bench, swinging her legs while reading some notebook. She was so deep into the words she didn't raise her eyes.
– Hi, Sasha.
– Oh! Good afternoon, Alexander Pavlovich. – She shut the notebook. – I would like to share something special with you.
– And what is it?
– Something special, that's what I'm saying. At home, mom would laugh. She doesn't like it when I read them or compose new ones.
– Poems, right?
– No, arias! – A thousand tiny bells blessed my ears.
– Could you read me one of them?
Sasha opened her thick notebook and began reading:
Us both, we will die on the sunrise,
Me, you, on this sad, sinful earth.
The dusk, it will shine ever brighter,
The days didn't give us this girth.
She went silent.
– And what comes next, Sasha?
– I haven't composed it yet. – She turned the page quickly. – I also have an idea for a waltz.
We will be born, we won't be the same, no,
We wlll be close to the ones who will care for,
If you're not certain – look to the skies up above.
There you will see what Lord sees when he's sleeping.
