The Pianist and His Lover

"Not anymore. He has an agent to handle booking his events and a publicity agent working for him now. But those are recent additions. Even last year, I only went when one of his other patrons wasn't around to introduce him to the musical movers and shakers in the local area," I replied.

"But," I joked, "When he is completely on his own, I don't know, it may feel a little like 'empty nest' syndrome to me!"

"Maybe that is something to consider. You're still young enough; we could have children."

I was a little shocked, but pleased. Tom had never suggested having our own children before.

"That would be very nice," I answered, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him hard on the lips.

We considered having children right then. But I also continued to join Jeremy on the road, where we would sometimes have a week or longer together.

I tried not to appear too anxious around Tom, but if I hadn't seen Jeremy for too long I worried that he would replace me. I knew that it was only a matter of time before he did. And I knew that I should rejoice if he found a good woman to be with him. Still, I would be sad. No, I would be crushed the day that happened.

Truth be told, the sex with Jeremy had become even better over time. We knew each other's likes and which buttons to push. I loved his eagerness when I would introduce him to some new position or technique.

As good as sex is, though, it was being with Jeremy that was the real center of my love for him.

Unlike so many of the musicians that I had known, even though he was an upcoming star, he was humble and a truly sweet man. Not just to me, but to everyone. He was the same person when he was with the finest members of the orchestra, or when he was giving a young girl pointers on playing a Scarlatti sonata. He treated waitresses and doormen with politeness and it never felt as if he was condescending to them. (On more than one occasion waitresses, who didn't even know who Jeremy was, slipped him pieces of paper with their phone numbers.)

When we had access to a piano and some spare time (Jeremy still practiced for hours a day) he would spend time teaching me piano, reviewing what I knew and teaching me new technique. He was always so patient with me. I was never going to be a great pianist, but with his help I could be an adequate one.

He was interested in everything and was a voracious reader. He loved going to art museums with me; times when I could shine telling him about the artists and explaining the nuances of what we were seeing.

Waking up next to him in the morning was close to heaven for me.

Jeremy

Thank goodness for Saul and my patrons, especially Ericka! My career was moving forward faster than I had ever anticipated. I had an agent now and I was being invited to perform at venues all across the country. I was assured that in the coming year I would be performing in many of the major European cities as well.

When I wasn't on the road, I was finding other opportunities in the local Washington metropolitan area, including southern Maryland and northern Virginia.

Over the summer I had played with the National Symphony orchestra and I got to know a number of the musicians in the orchestra. The conductor had asked me if I would be interested in playing with smaller groups made up of younger members of the orchestra — some piano trios and quartets? Of course I would.

The group met at the Kennedy Center, and considered music by Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert and Brahms and selected one of each to learn, which we did in short order. We started performing in various venues in the local area including at some of the colleges and churches.

We were well received, and started drawing good-sized audiences. And naturally, we recorded our little concerts on video to be available on the Internet through the NSO channels. Publicity for me, money and publicity for the orchestra as well.

But the most important thing that came out of this little endeavor was Helen.

Helen was the cellist of our quartet. She was of medium height, maybe 5' 4" or so, thin but not skinny, with dark shoulder length hair, a pale complexion and striking blue eyes. She had a low and melodic voice that I loved to hear; think of someone like the old actress Kathleen Turner.

She was not the first chair of the orchestra (yet.) The first chair was a fellow in his 70's who had been with the NSO since biblical times and every year hinted that he was going to retire at the end of the season, but never did. When he did retire, though, it was acknowledged by all of the other cellists that Helen would be his replacement.

Like all musicians, Helen was always looking to gin up more work. Even playing full-time for the NSO was really only for part of the year, so most of the musicians would teach and take other jobs when they could.

Helen approached me after practice one afternoon and asked me to join her for a cup of coffee. Helen, in addition to being a cellist, was a young (2 years older then me) beautiful, talented and, very important, single woman. Why would I say no?

At the coffee shop (an independent, not one of the chains) as we sat down with our cups of the nectar in front of us (this place was my gold standard) I looked at her closely. I had admired her looks since the time when we were first introduced and I'd had the feeling that she might be open to going out with me. But I hadn't acted up to this point, and she seemed to be preempting me. But she was looking at me as if she wanted to look into my eyes and see my soul. There was a connection there.

First, we chitchatted while we sipped our brew and relaxed a bit. Then Helen made her proposition to me. No, it wasn't THAT kind of proposition.

She had been reviewing the apps that were streaming video, focused on the music videos. She discovered that there were a lot of piano/cello duets and not limited to classical music, but to modern music as well.

"Jeremy," she asked, "Do you think that we could do something similar to that? You and I videoing ourselves doing duets? We could start with some simple things and move on to more difficult pieces. We could arrange some music for ourselves as well."

I looked at her. I saw the pleading in her eyes. I suddenly knew that making her happy might be very important to me.

"I can't imagine anything that would give me greater pleasure," I replied. I smiled, "At least with our instruments," I added.

She blushed a little but didn't correct or discourage me.

"Did you have any specific pieces in mind?" I asked.

Helen gave me a list of music that she had looked at and would work for the duet. Cello, you may know, is considered to be the instrument closest to the human voice, so it is easy to put any of the Schubert Lieder, with the cello taking the vocal part, onto the list. A number of the Chopin Preludes, Nocturnes, even a few of the Etudes would work.

"Do you have any thoughts about things we could do?" she was kind enough to ask.

"Sure. I know everyone does Jules Massenet's 'Meditation,' and I think that we should too, but something that hasn't been done yet would be his 'Arrognaise' from 'Le Cid'. But we could also..."

Soon a list of everything from Broadway musicals, to 'Kiss from a Rose' and 'Schindler's List' came up.

"By the way," I interrupted our brainstorming, "Have you spoken to anyone at the NSO? Will doing this cause a problem with your contract?"

I should have known she would have thought about that in advance.

She gave me a slightly smug smile, "Yes, I checked before I approached you and made sure that it won't create a conflict. As long as it doesn't interfere with rehearsals or performances, they don't care what I do in my own time."

"That's great. But now I have to check with my agent and especially with Ericka, who has been managing my performances on behalf of my patron's group. Then talk to my publicist, who I think would be tickled to be promoting us on the web."

"Wow! I guess your career is more complicated than mine. You have a group of patrons?"

I had to explain how my patrons were supporting me until I was busy enough to be on my own.

"And I think that is getting close," I mused.

"But I will always owe them a debt of gratitude. I don't think that there will be any sort of problem. I confess, though, I always get their advice as well."

"Okay, I guess," Helen replied with an uncertain look in her eye.

"We'll work it out," I told her to keep her spirits up.

We decided for each of us to make arrangements to play, and split who would do what. We were, after all, both trained in music theory, and taking a melody line from existing music for the cello was pretty simple stuff.

As we parted outside the shop, she gave me a hug and a warm kiss. On my cheek. But it lingered. I think she was encouraging me as well.

In fact, when I discussed the idea with Ericka, she became very excited and had a number of ideas that I thought would really add value to the video. She decided right then to come down to my place the next day.

She was on a flight from JFK to Dulles the next morning and I picked her up.

"Jeremy, I'm very excited about this. It is a strategy that many of the young musicians are using today. It can be a stream of income, but even better, it is a way of making people aware of what you are doing and where you are performing."

Our conversation went on in that direction for a while until Ericka more or less wound down.

"So how is Tom? Was he okay with your jumping on a plane and coming down at the last moment?" I asked.

She laughed, "I had to tell him on the phone. He is out of town right now, somewhere in Asia arranging financing for new venture. I don't expect that he will be back for a couple of weeks.

"But he told me to tell you that he is looking forward to seeing these new videos."

I felt a twinge of guilt again.

Tom really was a good guy. Honestly he was a nice man. And I was going to be making love to his wife tonight, and the rest of the week.

There was another complication now: Helen. For the first time I was seriously considering a long-term relationship with a woman close to my own age, who, if things worked out, was actually available.

"So when is your partner arriving?" Ericka asked.

"Oh, Helen should be here any minute," I replied, secretly wondering how this first meeting was going to go.

Almost on cue, the doorbell rang. I went out to the front entry to let Helen dragging her cello in its case behind her.

"Sorry if I'm late, Jeremy," Helen was saying as we walked into the large living room where my piano, as well as Erica were, "but I had to get a Taxi. I can't always count on an uBer being large enough for me and my..."

Ericka was standing in front of the chair where she had been seated; Helen was frozen in place standing two steps into the room. They both were looking at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

I finally stepped in.

"Helen, this is Ericka, who is not just one of my patrons, but has also been my manager and guide since I started my public career. She and her husband Tom have also become some of my closest friends. Ericka, this is Helen, the cellist who I've told you about. She is with the NSO, but has also been playing with the trios and quartets that I've been performing with here locally. Helen had the idea of doing these duets to put up on the web."

That seemed to unfreeze them both, as they walked towards each other, shook hands and began the normal, "I've heard so much about you," talk that two people engage in when they first meet.

THE WOMEN

Helen, who had intentions towards Jeremy, had been taken aback when she first saw Ericka. She instinctively saw competition. Erica was older, but very good-looking. Sexy, in fact. She relaxed when she heard Jeremy describe Ericka and her husband as 'friends'. But not too relaxed. She noticed how Ericka would touch him on the shoulder or his hand, in gestures that seemed very intimate.

But she could hardly complain, because she and Jeremy had no romantic or intimate relationship. Yet, she corrected herself.

Ericka, who knew she shouldn't be jealous, but was anyway, was watching the way that Helen looked at Jeremy. She noticed when Helen would 'sweep' her hair out of her face while looking Jeremy in the eyes. And Helen's little touches when she was talking to Jeremy didn't escape her notice either.

The only one impervious to this subtle warfare going on was Jeremy himself. Men! Oblivious! Only in this care, Jeremy wasn't as oblivious as they thought; he just was keeping quiet and letting things settle out for themselves.

JEREMY

When we finally got down to business, we started by looking at the pieces that we could get down on video the quickest. Ericka had an idea, since the weather had been gray and dreary, with showers on and off, that we should do Chopin's 'Raindrop' prelude first. This was our first exposure of what we were really undertaking!

We discussed what we would do, what we would wear and outlined with the finished product would look like.

So for the rest of the afternoon Helen and I practiced 'Raindrop' together, as well as several others that we had adapted for piano and cello. Ericka was busy in the adjacent room on the phone making arrangements and getting people and equipment lined up.

We ordered dinner in and ate around my dining room table (a rare occasion), but by 7:30 or so, we were all exhausted. Helen called a taxi again while Ericka had a limo coming by to pick her up.

As luck would have it, Helen's taxi arrived first, so I walked out with her to the street. Something happened that was a first: just before Helen entered the car, she turned and grabbed me and gave me a kiss on the lips — not open mouthed, but not a simple peck either.

"Jeremy, thank you for going along with me in this duet. I think that we can make it work for both of us."

And I heard her from inside the cab.

"And you be a good boy; you hear me?" followed by her laugh.

By the time I re-entered the house, Ericka had called the limo and told them not to come until midnight, and she was waiting for me naked in bed. Her eyes were a little red as if she had been crying a little.

"Helen is a very beautiful woman."

"Yes, she is. And she is an insightful musician, and plays a mean cello," I replied, as I slipped off my shirt, pants and underwear, and joined her beneath the sheets.

We came together and kissed as if we hadn't seen each other for weeks or months, not like we had spent most of the day together.

Then out of the blue,

"Are you going to ditch me for her?"

"We haven't even dated yet, and I haven't decided whether or not I want to date her, so aren't you kind of jumping the gun?"

"She wants to date you. She is really hot for you. I'm a woman. We can always tell."

"So far the only thing that I know is that she wants to play some duets with me. For all I know, she may be a lesbian who is sleeping with the second chair in the violin section."

Ericka huffed at that.

"Be serious."

"Okay. Maybe I would enjoy dating her, but I don't know if I want to risk putting in the effort to create a duet with her and then have to split up musically because we split up a relationship," I explained. I'm sorry, it sounded kind of cold, but I knew a great deal about her musical abilities, and didn't have a clue about whether we would work out as well as romantic partners.

"Well, I can tell you that she wants to get to know you better. And if you want to as well, I want you to go out with her."

I looked at her with a smile on my face.

"Please tell me: who is in bed with me right now?"

"I am," she replied.

"Then stop worrying about who I MIGHT date at some hypothetical time in the future, and let's make love in the present."

She agreed with me then; but she was in her limo by midnight returning to her hotel.

The week was busy; Ericka was a stern taskmaster.

By 8:00 AM the following morning there was a camera crew at my house filming me sitting at the window (in black and white) looking sad and depressed, watching the rain come down on the windows. There was another crew at Helen's place doing the same thing.

There was an outside scene of me walking down the steps with my umbrella in the rain with a raincoat covering the thin sweater that I was wearing. There was a similar shot of Helen in a long blue dress and carrying her cello case.

Somehow Ericka had gotten permission for us to use the stage at the Kennedy Center as our venue, with the large Steinway grand sitting in the middle of the stage, with a chair sitting in front of the piano, but turned so that Helen and I could see each other's eyes.

For the first take, we walked in from the opposite sides of the stage, slowly, looking at each other as if we had never met before. I sat down at the piano and Helen picked up her cello, and when she was ready, Helen played 4 A-flat notes in a row (which was our introduction) and we played the Prelude through.

The next time through, Ericka had brought in the NSO percussion players (in their down time they also worked as studio musicians), who added sound effects, the timpani as thunder, and various percussive instruments to mimic wind and rain and lightning! That took three takes.

Then we played it from the recapitulation of the 'A' section (sorry -- music talk), but the last time, we let the music fade out, and I got up off the bench, walked over to Helen and held out my hand. She took my hand and stood, and we walked off the stage together, as opposed to separately as we had come in.

I'm sure you can imagine what the finished video looked like. It was a short romance. Two lonely souls living bland, gray lives, who come together and find each other through the music. In the final edit, during the 'B' section, when the storm is at its max, there were scenes of the percussionists; but they were never solid, rather ghostly images in the distance.

But we didn't see the actual edited form of the video for a week. We had been brought in to approve various elements, but the final seemed perfect.

With the filming and recording done, Ericka told us that she needed to catch her flight out of Dulles and had to leave. I offered to drive her, but she told me that she had a limo taking her.

I walked her out to her limo and gave her a quick kiss (nice, but not too involved) before she got in the back seat.

After Ericka left, Helen and I went out to dinner, just the two of us. It was delightful — really the first chance for us to talk about things other than our music projects. About family, growing up, being, dare I call it, a pair of music nerds?

I told Helen about the struggles of becoming a solo/concert pianist; she told me of the struggles of getting into one of the major symphony orchestras, keeping your spot season after season, and then trying to move up in the hierarchy.

She told me how playing with me was a cause of joy and pleasure for her, and I assured her that while I hadn't had the imagination to see myself playing in a duet with a lovely cellist, I was equally happy that she had seen that we might work well together. It was clear by the time that we finished dinner that night that we had more than just musical chemistry with each other. We, at least, like each other. A lot.

We had a long day behind us, so we parted at the restaurant, each going our own way, back home. We might go further with each other, but not that night. That night was just creating a foundation for a future relationship.

My heart felt light on my way home.

When I arrived at my condo (by this time, I had purchased the condo from Tom), I noticed a message waiting for me on my phone.

Ericka, "Jeremy? Could you call me when you get home? Please?"

I got my phone out right away and called.