When his parents, who were notorious for their critical remarks, disparaged his daughter’s piano performance at a family meal, a single father was forced to face a difficult reality. His daughter’s joyous moment swiftly devolved into a fight to preserve her self-worth and innocence.
I saw Lily’s brows knitted in concentration as her little fingers lingered over the keyboard. Her nervous face was softly illuminated by the soft glow from the lamp in the corner, which made our living room seem warm and inviting.
My gaze strayed to the framed picture of the two of us on the piano. We both smiled broadly as she sat on my knee, just five years old at the time. It served as a reminder of my motivations.
I replied, “Take your time, sweetheart,” in a steady, quiet voice. “You’ve got this.”
Her shoulders tensed as she inhaled deeply. “All right, dad. I’m hoping I don’t make a mistake.
In an attempt to get her attention, I bent forward and rested my elbows on my knees. “It’s alright even if you do. Simply give it your all. Your extensive practice makes me proud.
With a little grin on her face and a lack of confidence, she began to play. I could tell how hard she was trying, even though the song was easy with a few pauses and missing notes. I applauded when she was done, beaming from ear to ear.
“That was great!” I replied, experiencing that well-known surge of pride. “You’re getting better every day.”
“Really?” she said in a little, unsure voice.
“Absolutely,” I said, getting to my feet and embracing her. “You’re already playing like this after only a few lessons! You’re doing a fantastic job, even though I know it’s not easy.”
She looked at the piano’s photo. “Do you think Grandma and Grandpa will like it?”
I stiffened my grin. I didn’t want to express my uncertainty to her. I answered, “I’m sure they will,” and hoped I was correct.
I was startled out of my reverie by the sound of the doorbell. A beat skipped in my chest. I inhaled deeply before opening the door.
“Tom,” my mom remarked, interrupting to give me a brief, firm embrace. “It’s been too long.”
I said, “Yeah, it has,” and moved aside to make room for them. Jack, my father, nodded curtly, not even glancing at me as he brushed by and entered the home. I closed the door, already feeling the recognizable constriction in my chest. It was meant to be a pleasant evening.
Lily was standing with her hands clutched tightly in front of her as they entered the living room.
“Hello, Grandmother! “Hello, Grandpa!” Brightly, trying so hard to seem confident, she said.
A little softening of my mother’s grin occurred. “Hello, sweet Lily. How you’ve matured, my dear.
My dad hardly gave her a look. He said, “House looks fine,” looking around as if he were examining the space.
I suppressed my annoyance. I remarked, “Dinner’s almost ready,” while attempting to maintain a steady tone.
I began cleaning the table after we had completed our meal. Lily paused, glancing between the living room and the kitchen.
“May I begin playing now? She glanced at my parents and said quietly, “Is that okay?”
My mother smiled politely but without her eyes. “Of course, darling,” she replied. “We’d love to hear what you’ve been working on.”
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” I grinned. “You are free to begin playing. From here, I’ll listen.”
With her fingers fumbling with the hem of her blouse, she questioned, “Are you sure?”
I gave a nod. “I hear you well. And when I’ve finished cleaning up, I’ll be right out.”
She turned to the keyboard and smiled slightly at me. My mother smoothed her skirt and looked around the room as my parents settled onto the couch, my father sipping a drink.
With her fingertips hanging above the keys, Lily inhaled deeply. I distracted myself by doing the dishes while attempting to concentrate on her playing. She began slowly, and at initially, the music was a bit erratic. She was clearly anxious. I listened intently as I dried a dish and put it away.
She hesitated, missed a few notes, and then began again. Her playing was determined, and I could hear it when she made an effort to overcome her errors. I felt a surge of pride. What mattered was that she was giving it her best.
I heard an odd noise just as I was ready to begin cleaning the pans. I first believed that there was a problem with the piano, but I later discovered that it was my mother. She was chuckling, a suppressed giggle at first. With a dishcloth in hand, I froze and strained to hear.
Then, louder and harder than ever, my father’s laugh joined hers. It reverberated across the kitchen like a slap. My stomach turned over. Setting the plate aside, I moved to the doorway and took a quick look into the living room.
I could hear the typical edge in my mother’s voice as she said, “Was that your first time playing it?”
Lily’s little fingertips were still hanging over the keys as her gaze flew between them. Her confused and wounded expression made my stomach turn like a dagger. She seemed to be attempting to vanish as I watched her contract and fold in on herself. She blinked quickly, holding back the tears as her lip trembled. In that moment, my heart broke.
She stumbled, “No, no, I-I’ve had two lessons,” and her voice trembled. “It’s just… hard to play with both hands.”
My dad’s voice boomed as he laughed more. He replied, “A dog could have done better,” as he wiped away a tear. He glanced at my mom, and they exchanged a glance as if they were both laughing at the same cruel joke.
I was immobile. I was paralyzed, stuck between incredulity and a raging anger that was accumulating inside of me. My parents were like this. Like they did to me so many times before, my parents, who were meant to love and support their granddaughter, are pulling her down. I choked on the old, familiar rage, but I forced myself to remain composed for Lily’s sake.
I managed to utter, “Hey,” in a strained voice. “She is just getting started. She is doing well.
My mother dismissed me with a sweep of her hand. “Oh, stop being so touchy, Tom. We’re simply enjoying ourselves a little.”
Have fun. They referred to it as such. I turned to face Lily, who had become quiet and was staring at the ground. That expression seemed familiar to me. For years, I had worn it.
I tried to speak steadily as I said, “Mom, Dad, I think it’s time for you to go.”
They both stopped laughing and looked at me as if I had gone crazy.
My dad got to his feet, his face flushed. “This is not how we brought you up. You’re acting too leniently. If you treat her this way, she will never make it out there.”
It was more than I could handle. All of the hurt and rage from years of their unrelenting criticism, as well as how they minimized everything I accomplished, suddenly returned. Even though my voice remained calm, I felt as if I were perched on a precipice.
“This,” I said in a quiet but forceful voice, “is the reason I was so troubled as a child. You couldn’t just be kind. You had to bring me down every time. I won’t allow you to do that to her, however. Now leave.”
They looked at me with disbelief. I shook my head as my mother opened her lips to speak. “No. Gather your belongings and go.
With a last scowl, they packed their bags and jackets and walked out without saying another word. After they left, the door clicked shut, and I stood there gasping for air. When I looked back, I saw Lily with tears running down her cheeks.
She said, “Daddy, I’m sorry,” in a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”
I dragged her into my arms after taking two strides across the room. “No, darling, no. There was nothing wrong with you. You did fantastic, don’t you? I’m very pleased with you.”
She clung to me and smelled. “But they laughed at me.”
My chest constricted once again, but I spoke softly. “My dear, they were mistaken. Sometimes they lack the ability to be kind. However, it is their issue, not yours.
After hesitating, she slowly nodded. “Okay.”
She resumed playing when I took a seat next to her and put my arm over her shoulders. The melody was smoother and her fingers were a bit more certain this time. As I watched her, pride filled my heart.
“See?” When she was done, I whispered. “You’re getting better every time.”
She grinned slightly at me, and I felt warm all over. It was more than this particular moment. It had to do with all I was attempting to do and be for her.
I sat by myself in the living room after Lily went to bed. There was a heavy stillness as my thoughts continued to relive the events of the evening.
I inhaled deeply before getting up and moving toward the piano with the image over it. I lightly pressed the keys, reflecting on how their brutality had corrupted this instrument that had once brought me delight. However, it is no longer the case. They couldn’t take it away from her, in my opinion. They couldn’t take it away from us, in my opinion.
Lily and I sat at the piano once again the next morning. With a query in her eyes, she glanced up at me. I nodded and grinned.
“Let’s try it again, okay?” “I said.” “You and me.”
She nodded, found the keys with her fingers, and began to play. A bit more confident, a little stronger, the music filled the room. With my heart full, I observed her and felt we would be OK as the music continued to play.
We’d be all right.
Did you like this story? Take a look at this one: Lily’s refusal to include her father in her artwork breaks Heather’s heart. Lily discloses a shocking fact about a secret her father has been keeping when Heather finally presses her daughter for an explanation.
Although this work has been dramatized for artistic reasons, it is based on actual individuals and events. To preserve privacy and improve the story, names, characters, and specifics have been altered. Any likeness to real people—living or dead—or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misunderstanding and offer no guarantees on the veracity of events or character portrayals. This tale is presented “as is,” and the opinions stated are those of the characters and do not represent the publisher’s or author’s.
