Yellow Paper: Part 4

I couldn't think of anything to blog about, so I thought I might as well put up part 4 of the story...

Ava thought about Danny, how his big hands and feet were just right for playing the piano. How he listened to you, his whole self concentrated on what you were saying. How he had all this energy that was bottled up inside him. Too much maybe, Ava thought. And what he'd said about her mum... could it be possible that she was trying to help? But if she was, she'd act differently, she'd at least consider Ava's point of view. Could the problem be her dad? Was that why her mum was so against her playing? Her mum never mentioned her dad, and didn't want anyone else to. But that was fair enough, thought Ava. If you'd made a mistake like getting married to her dad, an alcoholic, and then that decision turned sour on you, you wouldn't like to be reminded of it. It was interesting how one bad decision made years ago could affect so many people. Maybe that was what her aunt was trying to tell her. That you can want something, but you should understand what you're trying to get, and not trample other people to get it. Was she trying to tell her that that was what Ava might do? Or was doing? Ava didn't know.

The afternoon sun came through the living room windows as Ava played, the music falling from her fingers. For Ava, playing the piano was as necessary as breathing. It was something that had to be done, an integral part of herself. Pianos attracted her like a magnet.

The thoughts flowed so much easier just by playing, and problems resolved themselves. Playing the piano was escaping some of the hard reality in life for Ava.

Listening to what Clair de Lune meant, hearing the notes that sounded like running water, Ava thought more clearly. It was a shame that her mum didn't want her to play, but it was too late now. She had to make up her own mind about this. After all, it wasn't her mum's life. An idea hit her. Granma would know what to do.

'Hello? Tessa speaking.'

'Hi granma, this is Ava.'

'I thought I'd get a phone call from you.'

How would granma know, Ava asked herself.

'Why?'

'I thought you might be having a bit of trouble with your mum.'

'Well yeah, I guess I am. Mum's dead set against me playing for the competition.'

'You're going to play, though Ava?' Granma's voice sounded alarmed.

'Yes of course. I have to, now. I thought you could come over soon, when you have time. Mum's working tommow, maybe you can come then?'

'What for?'

'I want your opinion on how my piece sounds.'

'Good idea. How's it going anyway?'

'It's all right. The teacher says I need to ease up my little finger more, especially doing those extra trilly bits.'

'He's right. Your fingers are very stiff when you play them.'

Ava laughed. Talk about blunt.

'Thanks, that's nice to know.'

'No, seriously, Ava, you need to work on that before the competition. If you want to win. I'll come over tommorow and help you with it, but I think you just need to do more scales. You have to keep working on them.'

'Okay.'

'See you tomorrow then.'

'Thanks granma.'