A Song for Julia

overwhelming. When I was little—really small—my mother used to play all the time. With each year that went by, she looked older, sadder, more exhausted. And then one day she just stopped. And then she was gone. Now, she made appearances for some holidays, and that was it.
    Screw it. Time for some new memories.
    I walked over and slid onto the piano bench next to Julia and said quietly, “Know any four-hand pieces?”
    She didn’t hesitate. Without a smooth transition, she began the opening bars of Sonata for Piano, Four-Hands in D Major, K.381. It was if she’d taken my question as a personal challenge. It’s a beautiful piece, and also one that my mother taught me to play. I positioned my hands and joined in at the next measure. It starts out slow, measured, thoughtful, but by the third movement it’s a challenge for even two people to play. And I hadn’t heard it in years, much less played it. That’s okay—it didn’t have to be perfect. This was for fun. So we played, our hands moving together on the keyboard.
    I glanced over at her at one point, and she was smiling, a small, secret sort of smile. Her hair was coming loose from the careless bun she’d put it in, a few stray strands covering the right side of her face. They framed her eyes. I swallowed, looked back down at the keyboard. And the funny thing was, I was smiling too. I’m not big on smiling. I’m not big on happiness, to be honest. This was both uncomfortable and strange territory.
    But, before you think I’ve changed and become some preppy piano player in a monkey suit and bow tie, I was also very, very aware of her thigh in those black jeans, brushing against mine. It was hot, and let me tell you, I’ve never once in my life been aroused while playing the piano. That could be wicked embarrassing.
    We got to the third movement, with its aggressive and very fast fingering, and we both started to fall apart. She laughed and tried to get back on track, and I did the same. But that didn’t work so well, because now we were off kilter, ragged, and it sounded awful.
    “Oh, dear God,” she muttered, and that was all it took. I broke out into loud laughter, and so did she, and we fell together, for just an instant, laughing. She put an arm around me, for maybe a second, max, and then yanked it back.
    “Okay,” I said. “We’ve got to try that again sometime.”
    “It’s a deal,” she replied, a wide grin on her face.
    “Tell you what … we’ve got a piano back at the studio. Want to stop by tonight?”
    She blinked her eyes, and a vulnerable, exposed expression flitted across her face. Her smile died, but she tried to bring it back, only it was that fake smile she sometimes got on her face, and then she said, “I can’t … um … I’ve got a date.”
    Aw, crap. Of course she has a date. She’s a beautiful, smart as hell girl—she’s probably out every weekend.
    On second thought—somehow I didn’t think so. I was sure she could if she wanted to. But something about her was remote, lonely, isolated. And for just a few minutes, while we played side by side, it felt like I’d broken through.
    “I’d love to do it some other time,” she said, sounding extremely uncomfortable. “Really, I would. I just … this was …”
    “Don’t worry about it!” I said, too fast. “Have fun on your date.”
    I didn’t want to say that. In fact, I wanted to find the guy and pound his face into the Southie pavement. Or the cobblestones or whatever the hell the Barnies have over at Harvard. But I couldn’t say any of that. She wasn’t mine … we weren’t even really friends. What the hell was wrong with me?
    My dad cleared his throat behind us. Both of us spun around, quickly. Jesus. I’d forgotten anyone else was in the room.
    “That was beautiful,” he said. His voice cracked, “Thank you. That piano … it needed someone to play it. No one plays it any more. It was wonderful.”
    Julia laughed, a little uncomfortable. “The end, not so much.”
    Dad smirked. “Can’t win everything.”
    She looked at me, her fast downcast. “We should get going.”
    I nodded, strangely reluctant. “All right.”
    Dad looked off to the side for just a moment, as if he were debating something. Then he looked back at her. “Listen … next Saturday we’re having a little birthday party of sorts for Sean. I’d like you to come, Julia.”
    “Oh,” she said, her eyes wide. “I …”
    “Not taking no for an answer.”
    Her eyes