{"id":4725,"date":"2022-01-06T08:30:00","date_gmt":"2022-01-06T14:30:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/?p=4725"},"modified":"2022-01-06T16:28:46","modified_gmt":"2022-01-06T22:28:46","slug":"a-tribute-to-pianists-the-ivory-touch","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/2022\/01\/06\/a-tribute-to-pianists-the-ivory-touch\/","title":{"rendered":"A Tribute to Pianists: The Ivory Touch"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<figure class=\"wp-block-embed is-type-rich is-provider-embed-handler wp-block-embed-embed-handler wp-embed-aspect-16-9 wp-has-aspect-ratio\"><div class=\"wp-block-embed__wrapper\">\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" title=\"Short Story \ud83d\udcd6 - The Ivory Touch\" width=\"525\" height=\"295\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/21qO3uKTVS8?feature=oembed\" frameborder=\"0\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share\" referrerpolicy=\"strict-origin-when-cross-origin\" allowfullscreen><\/iframe>\n<\/div><\/figure>\n\n\n\n<p>I can&#8217;t believe I wrote this short story nearly two years, at the start of the pandemic. It feels appropriate after the passing this week of my own Grandmother, a wonderful pianist\/author to the end.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline, a senior piano major at Belton University, nearly lives at the music school as she prepares for her capstone recital. Her boyfriend Trenton, a jazz trumpet player, convinces her to perform an insane duet with him for the final number. While they dedicate themselves to rehearsals, the Coronavirus sweeps the globe. The worldwide pandemic jeopardizes everything Pauline holds dear, including her recital, family, and romantic relationship. How will she adapt to this devastating twist her senior year?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Don&#8217;t forget to check out the <a href=\"https:\/\/youtube.com\/playlist?list=PLUhhyFY2dpoPkTVPQw8-dXnupMtFtmNNr\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noreferrer noopener\">Music Playlist<\/a> for this story!<\/p>\n\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/videoseries?list=PLUhhyFY2dpoPkTVPQw8-dXnupMtFtmNNr\" title=\"YouTube video player\" allow=\"accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture\" allowfullscreen=\"\" width=\"560\" height=\"315\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" type=\"text\/html\" allowfullscreen=\"\" style=\"max-width:100%\" src=\"https:\/\/read.amazon.com\/kp\/card?asin=B086JYG6GB&amp;preview=inline&amp;linkCode=kpe&amp;ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_ymHGEb5WFTA9J&amp;tag=rcdc0a-20\" width=\"336\" height=\"550\" frameborder=\"0\"><\/iframe>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline brushed a mass of curls away from her face as she watched the February snow swirl outside the window of the cramped practice room. The baby grand piano filled every inch of the limited space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When she took a deep breath, she choked from the musty wood smell. If only the staff at Belton University would clean these rooms once in a while. She sighed. Nothing to do about that now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her senior recital, the capstone of her collegiate career, loomed only a month away. As a result, Pauline practically lived in this room. Might as well set up a cot and move in. What if she failed to perform the hour-long program well enough to graduate? And now her teacher insisted that Pauline add another piece. How could she possibly prepare it in time?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her hands flitted over the ivory keys as she played the opening of Rachmaninov\u2019s <em>Piano Sonata No. 1<\/em>. The first, halting notes filled the room with an eerie sense of foreboding. Pauline shuddered. What possessed her to choose such a difficult work in the first place? A battle of nerves raged inside when she pounded through the fast passages. As her fingers flew over the keys, she succumbed to the magic of the music. The tension in her neck lessoned as the beautiful strains filled the room. The music pushed away all thoughts of the deadly virus which had already spread its vicious tentacles through China had infected Europe as well. The muscles in her stomach tightened. <em>Nana.<\/em> Her grandmother had travelled to Italy a few days ago to perform a concert. Hopefully the illness wouldn\u2019t affect her travel.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Time to focus. <\/em>Pauline\u2019s hands swirled over the keys like the Midwestern blizzard raging outside. Her tendons ached from so many hours of practice, but she couldn\u2019t give up now, not with graduation on the line.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The door banged open, and a trumpet blast shredded the air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cTrenton, you scared me.\u201d She gasped. \u201cI was in the middle of the Rachmaninov.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A mischievous grin spread across Trenton\u2019s dark, handsome face. Her boyfriend set his trumpet on the lone chair and moved to the piano. A shiver tingled down her spine as his strong, muscular arms slid around her waist. For a moment, all thoughts of the recital melted away as she leaned back against his firm chest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He ran a hand through her curls and massaged her head. \u201cYou sound awesome. Why don\u2019t you take a break?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She spun around on the bench to face him. \u201cAre you serious? My professor insisted I add another song to the program\u2014the Chopin Waltz wasn\u2019t \u2018modern\u2019 enough for my finale.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He shrugged. \u201cThrow in a jazz number like I did for mine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She rolled her eyes. \u201cI don\u2019t think <em>Professor Piano Queen <\/em>will consider jazz an acceptable alternative.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAll right. Play a duet with me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline pursed her lips. \u201cBe serious. We\u2019d never get anything done.\u201d He drew her closer, but she pushed him away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He raised an eyebrow. \u201cI <em>am <\/em>serious. I\u2019d love to play with you.\u201d He drew her to him again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>How could she resist those pleading, chestnut eyes? \u201cDo you have a song in mind?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYep.\u201d He sprang to the door and yanked it open. \u201cBe right back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Surely he wouldn\u2019t suggest one of their pieces from the Jazz Ensemble. Heat crept into her cheeks at the thought of their first rehearsal together last year. She\u2019d joined the group at the last minute because their pianist underwent carpal tunnel surgery three days before the Valentine\u2019s Day concert.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>That night, Pauline lost her place when Trenton crooned the solo \u201cMy Funny Valentine\u201d on his trumpet. The pure, clear tone of his instrument combined with his innovative improv skills mesmerized her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou play like a suburban princess,\u201d he told her after the rehearsal. \u201cGive it more swing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019m a classical pianist,\u201d she laughed. \u201cNot a flapper girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo worries.\u201d He winked. \u201cI\u2019ll teach you. It\u2019s time you prepare for the upcoming era, the roaring 2020s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline giggled at the memory. Now, a year later, she and Trenton were still dating, taking on the new decade together.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He burst through the door again, a score in hand. \u201cHere.\u201d He plopped the music onto the piano.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline\u2019s breath caught in her throat. The title, <em>Sonata for Piano and Trumpet<\/em> by Hindemith, glared at her from the page. She shook her head. \u201cNo. We\u2019ll never prepare it in time. I didn\u2019t even know he wrote a piece for piano and trumpet. It\u2019ll be too dissonant.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCome on, Pauline.\u201d He rubbed her back. \u201cYour teacher wants modern music. A twentieth-century German composer fits the bill, unless she meant contemporary.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline sighed. \u201cAll right, let\u2019s give it a try.\u201d She traced his stubbled chin with her forefinger. \u201cBut be warned, my graduation rides on this last piece.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He caught her hand in his and held her gaze. \u201cI know. But we can do it together. I promise.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Dear God, I hope he\u2019s right.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline hung her coat on the peg next to the front door of her apartment. The scent of pizza and brownies wafted through the air. How delicious. Her roommates must\u2019ve made dinner. She glanced at her watch. Eleven o\u2019clock. No wonder she was hungry. She hurried to the kitchen and rummaged for the half-eaten pan of brownies, cut off a square, and headed to her room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her bed, covered in a light purple comforter and several throw pillows, called to her. She flopped down and hugged a pillow to her chest. The cozy room exuded comfort\u2014a place to escape the pressures of the practice room. Pictures of her family and friends adorned her desk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The rehearsal with Trenton, although rough, went better than she\u2019d expected. The difficult piece would require extra practice, but Trenton seemed eager for the challenge. Either that, or he wanted time with her. These past few weeks she\u2019d been so busy with rehearsal, they hadn\u2019t had much romance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He\u2019d been busy, too, preparing for <em>his <\/em>senior recital. But he\u2019d always found time for dates\u2014early mornings before class, late nights at the coffee shop after practice. What would happen to their relationship after graduation? Would he propose? Or would they go their separate ways? She winced at the thought. She\u2019d grown used to his encouragement, his perpetual smile, his touch. Her heartbeat quickened. If he planned to propose, he was running out of time. Graduate music schools expected her response by April.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Her phone chimed an alert as \u201cNana\u201d flashed on the screen. Why would she call so late? Oh right, it was already morning in Italy. Thank goodness for free, long-distance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"233\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9474-233x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-4761\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9474-233x300.jpg 233w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9474.jpg 700w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 233px) 100vw, 233px\" \/><figcaption>My Grandmother with her organ<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c<em>Buongiorno<\/em>, Nana.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201c<em>Buongiorno<\/em>, my dear,\u201d Nana\u2019s voice trilled. \u201cDid I call too late?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cOf course not.\u201d Pauline snuggled under the covers, still wearing her clothes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The connection crackled. \u201cHow are you?\u201d Nana asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cBusy. I spend all my time at the music school.\u201d Pauline twisted her hands in her lap.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAh yes. You\u2019re preparing for your recital. What is your repertoire?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline tightened her grip on the pillow. \u201cMozart, Rachmaninov, and Hindemith.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHow ambitious,\u201d Nana said in a cheerful manner. \u201cI\u2019m sure you\u2019ll be fabulous.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI hope so,\u201d Pauline said as she stroked the soft folds of the comforter. \u201cYou\u2019ll be back by then, won\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Silence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNana, are you there?\u201d A twinge of worry clawed at the back of Pauline\u2019s mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes, dear. I\u2019m here. But this is why I called. Italy has closed its borders.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline froze. \u201cNana, you can\u2019t be serious. Why?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cThe Coronavirus has spread throughout the country. Many people have already died, and more do so every day.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline blinked several times. How was this possible? \u201cBut Nana, I\u2019m sure they\u2019ll let you go, won\u2019t they? When is your concert?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cCancelled. All concerts, public events, and large gatherings are prohibited.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Fear gripped Pauline like an iron fist. How could the government cancel all public events in an entire country? What if Nana couldn\u2019t leave?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNana, come back. Do whatever you need in order to return home. I can\u2019t play this recital without you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Nana groaned. \u201cI\u2019ll try, dear, but I can\u2019t make any promises. They may allow some flights for repatriation. We can pray.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline stifled a sob. \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Two weeks later, Pauline trudged down the narrow hallway to the practice rooms, the past several days a blur. She couldn\u2019t wrap her mind around all that had happened. Although she and Trenton practiced together two hours each day, the Hindemith Sonata didn\u2019t reach her high level of expectation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She cringed as she turned the doorknob to the practice room. How many people had touched this handle today? What kind of germs lived on it? In the past, she\u2019d never worried about such matters. But news that the Coronavirus had spread to the American Midwest plunged the entire university into a panic. Students carried antibacterial hand gel in their instrument cases. Teachers set up soap dispensers in classrooms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A rumor spread that they\u2019d gain an extra week of spring break to let the virus pass. An additional week of practice before her recital might be useful. But when would the panic stop? And what about Nana?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A few days ago, the airlines granted her grandmother a flight back to the United States. However, the seventy-year-old was placed under quarantine upon arrival. What if she couldn\u2019t attend Pauline\u2019s recital? Worse, what if she\u2019d contracted the virus? A queasy feeling of uneasiness stole over Pauline.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Inside, the smell of body odor mixed with antique wood and dust nearly overpowered her and caused her to gag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cAre you all right?\u201d Trenton\u2019s deep voice echoed behind her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She spun to face him and flung her arms around his neck. \u201cI\u2019m scared. It seems the whole world has fallen to pieces.\u201d She breathed in the scent of his rich cologne, woodsy mixed with spice. \u201cThe university might close for a couple of weeks, the stores are out of toilet paper, and Nana\u2019s in quarantine. I don\u2019t know what to think.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>As Trenton rubbed her shoulders, the tension in her arms eased. \u201cIt\u2019ll be ok. We have each other, and that\u2019s what counts. Besides, you can always use leaves.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She drew back. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cLeaves. For toilet paper.\u201d His impish grin returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYou\u2019re crazy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cWe all are these days.\u201d He squatted next to his trumpet case and retrieved his instrument. After wetting his lips, he held the metal to his mouth.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline moved to the piano. \u201cReady?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>This time, they performed the piece in perfect synchronization. She anticipated his every move, and he kept time with her. As she pounded the powerful chords, the dissonance she once considered jarring now gave vent to her feelings about the uncertainty of the times. In an odd, undescribable way, the music was the conduit to her voice lost in the chaos of a crumbling world.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She poured her soul into the keys, playing each note with added emotion. When they approached the climax, her heartbeat quickened. Beads of sweat trickled down Trenton\u2019s temples. Their eyes met. For a second, she forgot about the moment and relished the comfort of his gaze. He nodded, and they finished the final chord together with a flourish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Several seconds of pause ensued. Heat spread to her cheeks from the exhileration of the performance. Finally, Trenton set his trumpet on the piano, his breathing heavy. \u201cWe\u2026 made&#8230;it,\u201d he panted.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She dropped her gaze, willing her adrenaline to subside. \u201cYes. Perfect performance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPauline,\u201d he hesitated, then slid next to her on the bench, \u201cI wondered\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cYes?\u201d She lifted her eyes to his.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The door banged open. A Wind Ensemble player stood there, clarinet in hand. \u201cThey\u2019ve closed the school.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Trenton jumped up. \u201cFor an extra week?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The clarinetist\u2019s eyes clouded as he shook his head. \u201cNo. For the rest of the school year.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline slumped on the plush couch in her parents\u2019 living room. Pictures Dad took on his worldwide travels as a professional photographer adorned the walls\u2014Tower Bridge in London, the Great Wall of China, the Eiffel Tower in Paris.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A sigh escaped her lips. In the short week she\u2019d been home, every country had sealed its borders. Who knew if she\u2019d ever visit those exotic places Dad loved so much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Belton University had issued an emergency order to send everyone home right away. They didn\u2019t want students to contract the virus from living and studying in close quarters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She\u2019d barely found time to pack, let alone say goodbye to her friends. And Trenton\u2026 Her heart cried in protest. He\u2019d returned to his parents\u2019 home on the East Coast. Tears wet the corners of her eyes. Who knew when they\u2019d see each other again?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>At least they talked every day. Yesterday they\u2019d gone on a virtual date to a zoo that hosted live field trips. She\u2019d enjoyed it but missed his calm presence and reassuring embrace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>And what about her recital? How ridiculous to worry about something so trivial in light of the global crisis. But she\u2019d worked hard to master every nuance of those beautiful works, and for what? To have the notes die along with her dreams of the future? She buried her face in her hands as sobs overtook her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Minutes later, she wiped her eyes and moved to Mom\u2019s baby grand by the bay window. She hadn\u2019t practiced in days, but maybe now was the time. Pauline took a deep breath and played the ivories. The first strains of Chopin\u2019s <em>Waltz in c# minor <\/em>filled the living room, the minor key reflecting her dismal mood. Rich tones struck a chord deep within her that unleashed the fear she\u2019d pent up for days. The music reflected her grief about the loss of her senior year, the end of an era. She closed her eyes as her fingers danced over the keyboard\u2014unlike her\u2014free to roam wherever they pleased.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A hand brushed her arm. She turned to see Mom whose tears streamed down her gentle face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>An icy chill stole through Pauline. \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong? Is it Nana?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mom nodded as she struggled to stifle sobs. \u201cNana has a confirmed case of Coronavirus. She\u2019s in the local hospital for breathing treatment.\u201d Mom collapsed on the bench. \u201cThe virus is worse for senior citizens. I hope she can survive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline enveloped Mom in her arms. <em>Dear God, please let Nana live.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>###<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A week later, now mid-March, the satin material of Pauline\u2019s white concert dress swished at her sides as she stepped up to the baby grand in her parents\u2019 living room. How different she\u2019d imagined this day\u2014the recital hall at the music school filled with her professors, family, and friends\u2014 Trenton. And Nana. A tear threatened to fall. <em>Keep it together. Power through. For Nana.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Dad, who\u2019d promised to send the recording to her professor as credit for graduation, situated his video camera on a tripod. How anticlimactic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Mom smiled as she propped a computer on the coffee table. The previous day, she\u2019d insisted Pauline conduct a live, virtual recital online.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cNo one wants to watch an hour-long classical piano performance on a phone,\u201d Pauline protested.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cPeople crave hope in periods of uncertainty,\u201d Mom said. \u201cDuring this time of limited physical contact, your sweet ivory touch might offer comfort to those in isolation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Maybe Mom was right. Maybe this was her contribution to a world in pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She adjusted her skirt and drew a deep breath. <em>Dear God, let this music soothe the pain and suffering we face in the world today. Amen.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Dad gave her a \u201cthumbs up\u201d behind the camera. Time to start.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The gentle, familiar notes of Mozart\u2019s Sonata No. 11 rang through the room, calming her nerves. The tension in her hands loosened as the nostalgic theme filled her with thoughts of a more peaceful time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The many hours of practice on the Rachmaninov paid off as her fingers flew over the keys. After its conclusion, she paused for a moment. The next song should have been her duet with Trenton. If only he were here with her. Instead of the Hindemith, she\u2019d substituted the Chopin Waltz. She raised her hands\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The sound of <em>Trumpet Voluntary<\/em> blasted from the entryway. Pauline glanced at the door where Trenton stood poised in a black tux, trumpet pressed to his lips. She jumped to her feet and ran to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cHold on, I haven\u2019t finished my solo yet.\u201d He laughed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cI\u2019ve heard it before.\u201d She giggled as she threw her arms around his neck. \u201cHow\u2019d you get here? I thought people were required to stay home with their families.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A wide grin spread across his face. \u201cThat\u2019s why I\u2019m here.\u201d He dropped to one knee. \u201cTo ask you to be my family, during this quarantine, and for the rest of our lives.\u201d He pulled a tiny box from his pocket. \u201cPauline, will you marry me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Electricity sparked through her arm as he slipped the diamond ring on her finger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A fountain of emotion bubbled up from somewhere deep inside. She wouldn\u2019t have to face this scary world alone. \u201cYes, yes!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He pulled her in for a kiss, and she tightened the embrace, savoring the moment and the taste of his lips.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>When they broke apart several glorious moments later, a loud cheer erupted from the computer. Mom flipped it around to reveal the audience as they applauded the couple.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cMom, you knew,\u201d Pauline gasped as she knelt in front of the computer. The sight of her college roommates, piano professor, friends from the university, and Nana took her breath away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Pauline\u2019s heart leapt. \u201cNana, how did you manage to watch this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Nana waved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>A nurse in a crisp white uniform replied. \u201cEasy. Your grandma insisted you were playing a recital she couldn\u2019t miss, so we connected the TVs to your link. The whole hospital watched you perform. Bravo! You\u2019ve been an inspiration to us all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\"><figure class=\"alignright size-medium\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"138\" height=\"300\" src=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9473-138x300.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-4760\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9473-138x300.jpg 138w, https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2022\/01\/IMG_9473.jpg 415w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 138px) 100vw, 138px\" \/><figcaption>My pianist Grandmother<\/figcaption><\/figure><\/div>\n\n\n\n<p>By now, tears streamed freely down Pauline\u2019s cheeks. \u201cThanks. It\u2019s the least I could do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>The nurse arched an eyebrow. \u201cNow Nana wants to meet this fianc\u00e9 of yours\u2014make sure he\u2019s good enough for her girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Trenton popped onto the screen. \u201cI assure you, I\u2019m not.\u201d He laughed. \u201cBut I\u2019ll do my best to take care of your granddaughter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Nana\u2019s eyes sprakled as she nodded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>\u201cShould we finish with our duet?\u201d Trenton gave Pauline\u2019s hand a squeeze.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>She met his gaze as she strode to the piano. \u201cDo you think we can do this?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>He raised his trumpet. \u201cAbsolutely. We\u2019re in this together.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p>Musical References in this story:<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Piano Sonata No. 1<\/em>, by Rachmoninov<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Sonata for Piano and Trumpet<\/em>, by Hindemith<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Waltz in c# minor<\/em>, by Chopin<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Sonata No. 11<\/em>, by Mozart<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><em>Trumpet Voluntary<\/em>, by Clarke<\/p>\n<iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/player.blubrry.com\/?media_url=https%3A%2F%2Fmedia.blubrry.com%2Fmusic_book_club%2Fcontent.blubrry.com%2Fmusic_book_club%2FShort_Story-The_Ivory_Touch.m4a&amp;podcast_link=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.rescotcreative.com%2Fes%2F2022%2F01%2F06%2Fa-tribute-to-pianists-the-ivory-touch%2F#mode-Light&border-000000&progress-000000\" scrolling=\"no\" width=\"100%\" height=\"165\" frameborder=\"0\" id=\"blubrryplayer-1\" class=\"blubrryplayer\" title=\"Blubrry Podcast Player\"><\/iframe><p class=\"powerpress_links powerpress_links_m4a\" style=\"margin-bottom: 1px !important;\">Podcast: <a href=\"https:\/\/media.blubrry.com\/music_book_club\/content.blubrry.com\/music_book_club\/Short_Story-The_Ivory_Touch.m4a\" class=\"powerpress_link_pinw\" target=\"_blank\" title=\"Play in new window\" onclick=\"return powerpress_pinw('https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/?powerpress_pinw=4725-podcast');\" rel=\"nofollow\">Play in new window<\/a> | <a href=\"https:\/\/media.blubrry.com\/music_book_club\/content.blubrry.com\/music_book_club\/Short_Story-The_Ivory_Touch.m4a\" class=\"powerpress_link_d\" title=\"Download\" rel=\"nofollow\" download=\"Short_Story-The_Ivory_Touch.m4a\">Download<\/a><\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I can&#8217;t believe I wrote this short story nearly two years, at the start of the pandemic. It feels appropriate after the passing this week of my own Grandmother, a wonderful pianist\/author to the end.<\/p>\n<p>Pauline, a senior piano major at Belton University, nearly lives at the music school as she prepares for her capstone recital. Her boyfriend Trenton, a jazz trumpet player, convinces her to perform an insane duet with him for the final number. While they dedicate themselves to rehearsals, the Coronavirus sweeps the globe. The worldwide pandemic jeopardizes everything Pauline holds dear, including her recital, family, and romantic relationship. How will she adapt to this devastating twist her senior year?<\/p>\n<p>Don&#8217;t forget to check out the musical playlist!<\/p>\n<p>https:\/\/youtube.com\/playlist?list=PLUhhyFY2dpoPkTVPQw8-dXnupMtFtmNNr<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":154,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-4725","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-music-education"],"translation":{"provider":"WPGlobus","version":"3.0.2","language":"es","enabled_languages":["en","es","fr","de","it","br"],"languages":{"en":{"title":true,"content":true,"excerpt":true},"es":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"fr":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"de":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"it":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false},"br":{"title":false,"content":false,"excerpt":false}}},"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4725","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4725"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4725\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4769,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4725\/revisions\/4769"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/154"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4725"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4725"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rescotcreative.com\/es\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4725"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}