The Music of Spring: The Smile I Adored
A group of men beside a monument played sets of steel drums, and I begged, “Please, Mother, I want a set of drums like those. They sound wonderful.”
She looked through the dirty windows, and saw only the sandblasted metal and improvised frames. “No, Aoede, I can’t. Where could you set them up? They aren’t valuable. Look at them, just old oil drums, cut down. When your father transfers elsewhere, we couldn’t even sell them.”
“But Mother, the sound—” At the look she gave me, I slouched against the seat cushion and stared out the opposite window. The traffic parted, and our taxi driver sped off.
“Enjoy the day, Aoede. We’ll find a nice little piano, and then you’ll feel better about this place.” We rode several more blocks, until she said, “Oh, look, your father is waiting for us.”
He leaned against the plate glass window of the showroom, and on his face gleamed the smile I adored.
It meant he knew something special. I opened the taxi door almost before the wheels stopped, and I rushed into his arms.
“Daddy, Daddy, you’ll never guess what I heard on the way here. It was wonderful.”
“Never mind that, Zeus, darling.” My mother interrupted. “You know she always wants the most inappropriate things. We’re here to look at a nice little piano.”
Daddy and I looked at one another. I sighed, and he winked, as he reached out to open the door for my Mother.
“Well, Memo my love, we’ll see what they have in stock.”
We followed her in. The salesman immediately led Mother to a bizarrely decorated Rococo instrument, while Daddy reached for my hand and led me around a corner. There, I saw something amazing.
The Music of Spring is a short story in nine parts. For the next installment, visit: The Music of Spring: So Conventional.
Read more of my published short stories here.
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Ruth DeMaat
Heidi Kortman