The living room was filled with the gentle hum of our electric heater, which blended with the subtle rustling of pages from a book that I had left open on the coffee table. In spite of the fact that there was a little rain tapping at the glass outside, everything inside seemed warm and secure.
Sophie, my daughter, was sitting on the bench at the piano, with her small legs hanging just short of the pedals. She was playing the piano. With her brow wrinkled in intense concentration, her fingers lingered over the keys of the keyboard. She had just turned eight years old, and she was putting every ounce of her attention into perfecting the song.
While I was sitting in the recliner, I attentively observed her, and my chest began to expand with the type of pride that is difficult to describe to someone who has never been a father.
“Take your time, sweetheart,” I responded, maintaining a calm and supportive tone throughout the conversation. There is no need to worry.
She inhaled deeply, causing her shoulders to rise as she did so. “All right, Daddy. I really hope that I don’t make a mistake.
“There will be times when you make mistakes,” I stated in a soft voice. As a component of the learning process. However, regardless of the circumstances, I am proud of you.
Before she returned her attention to the keys, she broke into a bashful grin that appeared on her face. Her fingers paused here and there from time to time as she played the first few notes, but the melody started to take form as she continued to play. Despite the fact that she made errors, she continued on, persevering through each and every setback.
I applauded loudly enough to cause her cheeks to flush when she completed doing what she was doing. What a lovely experience! I can immediately tell how much progress you’ve made in this area.
Her voice was hardly audible above a whisper as she said, “Really?”
“Without a doubt. In spite of the fact that you have just recently begun taking lessons, you are already able to play songs yourself. It’s not an easy task.”
Suddenly, her gaze shifted to the framed photograph that was placed on top of the piano. It was a picture of the two of us, taken when she was five years old. She was sitting on my lap, and we were both smiling at the camera. My arm was wrapped over her little shoulders, covering her shoulders. When she inquired, “Do you think Grandma and Grandpa will like it?” I could see her grin faltering just a tiny bit before she addressed the question.
I paused, trying to maintain a neutral expression on my face. “I won’t be surprised if they do,” I replied. When it came down to it, I had absolutely no idea.
As soon as I had a chance to think about it, the doorbell rang. My stomach became more constricted.
When I answered the door, my mother, Margaret, was the first person to come in. She began by giving me a brief, stiff embrace that was devoid of any genuine affection. She addressed Evan, saying, “It’s been far too long.”
While I was standing behind her, my father, Gerald, gave me a quick nod and then brushed by me without uttering a single word. He seemed to be searching the living room for dust.
After closing the door, I took a deep breath to calm myself down. It was my hope, perhaps a stupid one, that things would turn out differently this time around, so I asked them around. Were they finally going to make an effort to connect with Sophie in a manner that they had never done with me before?
While standing in the living room, Sophie had her hands clasped in front of her as she stood close to the piano. Hi there, Grandma! “Hello, Grandpa,” she greeted with a gleaming voice that was somewhat higher than her typical tone.
A somewhat softer grin appeared on Margaret’s face. It was a courteous but distant tone that she used when she remarked, “My, you’ve grown.”
He hardly even glanced in her direction. “House appears to be in good condition,” he murmured as he sat down on the couch.
One of my cheeks was bitten on the inside. While I was guiding them to the table, I said, “Dinner is ready.”
The conversation throughout the lunch was stiff and awkward. My mother and father inquired about everything except Sophie, including my job, the neighborhood, and the weather. As she sat there in silence, she picked at her meal until the plates were almost completely free of food.
She inquired, “Am I able to play my song at this time?” while glancing first at me and then at them.
Margaret smiled in a very little way. No, my darling, of course. It would be lovely to hear it.
I gave a little nod. Go ahead and do it, my darling. Despite the fact that I’m simply going to finish cleaning up, I’ll be listening from here.
“Are you sure?” she then inquired.
“You have my word,” I vowed.
She moved up to the piano, holding her back straight, and placed her hands on the keys of the instrument. Once again, my parents sat down on the couch. Gerald was holding a glass of whiskey, and Margaret was smoothing down her skirt while looking about the room as if she were evaluating the furnishings.
A game was started by Sophie. It was evident that she was determined, despite the fact that the beginning was a touch wobbly. While I was drying a dish in the kitchen, I let her music to complete the atmosphere.
Suddenly, I became aware of it—a soft laugh.
At first, I was concerned that I could have misunderstood what was being said. Then, however, came a second, more audible chuckle. When I stopped moving, the dish towel was limp in my palms.
The laughter was obviously that of my mother, the type that she used when she was attempting to conceal the fact that she was feeling delighted. After a little pause, my father’s laugh, which was more intense and harder, joined hers.
My stomach became tight. I entered the room just in time to hear Margaret ask, “Was that your first time playing, dear?” I immediately walked into the doorway. It had that thin, biting edge in her voice that I was all too familiar with listening to.
While her hands remained floating over the keys, Sophie cast a look before turning her attention to Gerald. Her bewilderment was abundantly clear, but so was her pain.
“No,” she said in a low voice. The two lessons that I’ve had. The fact is that it is difficult to play with both hands.
Gerald let out a snort. Using his head to shake his head, he said, “A dog could have done better.” My mother and him exchanged a look that caused my blood to start pumping faster than it normally would.
It seemed like if the air was leaving my lungs. For the whole of my upbringing, I had been subjected to the same kind of humiliation. At this very time, it was happening to her, my young kid who had put in a lot of effort to get to this point.
Suddenly, I stepped into the room and said, “Hey,” in a stern tone. “Even though she is just beginning, she is doing exceptionally well.”
There was a wave from Margaret. Evan, please try to tone down your sensitivity. We are merely joking around.”
To tease. According to them, it was the case. As I glanced at Sophie, I saw that she had her eyes fixed on the ground, and her shoulders were slumped as if she wanted to vanish. I was aware of that position. When I was a youngster, I had worn it much too often.
“Mom and papa.” My tone of speech was strained. “I believe that you ought to depart.”
When I spoke, they looked at me as if I had spoken a different language.
A blush appeared on Gerald’s cheeks as he got up. We have brought you up to be more resilient than this. You are not doing her any favors by coddling her, in addition to the fact that the world is not going to try to baby her.
Yes, that was it. All of a sudden, years of criticism, from the perspective of never being enough, came pouring back. I maintained a calm yet forceful tone in my speech.
This is precisely the reason why I suffered through my childhood with self-doubt. Because it was impossible for you to just say anything good. You were forced to bring me down, and now you are doing the same thing to her. I won’t allow you to do that. Have your jackets ready.
The lips of Margaret opened, but I shook my head in response. It is not. It’s over for us here. Proceed.”
They gave one other a brief look before quieting down and gathering their belongings. After they had left, the front door shut behind them, and I exhaled with a trembling breath.
As soon as I turned around, I saw Sophie standing at the piano, with tears running down her face.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said in a low voice. “I didn’t intend to make them angry,” she said.
My heart was in pain. I took two steps across the room and drew her into my arms as I walked across the room. “I’m sorry, my darling. Nothing wrong was done by you. You did a wonderful job playing. I am really pleased with you.
“However, they laughed…”
In a stern voice, I said, “They were wrong.” “There are times when people are unable to demonstrate kindness, and that is not your fault; it is their problem.”
She clung to me while gently nodding her head.
“Would you do it once more?” After a little pause, I inquired.
Her eyes glanced in my direction. That you’ll pay attention this time?
I cracked a grin. “The entirety of the song.”
While we were sitting on the bench together, her little hands were once again on the keys. She began playing once again, and despite the fact that she continued to miss a few notes, she now exhibited a little bit more confidence from her playing. I continued to applaud when she finished, exactly as I had done in the past, and this time she smiled in a genuine manner.
Since she had already gone to bed, I remained in the living room, where the solitude was oppressive. Taking a glance at the piano, as well as the photograph that was placed above it, I made a commitment to myself. No one, and certainly not my own parents, could ever take away her pleasure. I would never allow that to happen.
The next morning, when we sat down at the piano once again, sunshine came in through the curtains and illuminated the room. While she waited, Sophie took a peek at me. I gave a little nod.
I said to myself, “Let’s play it together.”
As soon as she smiled, the first notes began to reverberate. During this particular instance, the music filled the whole home, not just with sound, but also with the assurance that she would eventually come to realize that she was sufficient.
Due to the fact that I would guarantee it.
