The Performance

The day her grandmother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, Judith lost her journal. It was a black notebook with a soft cover and ivory-colored pages. After searching everywhere – her grandmother’s house, the practice room at school, and the cashier counter at the restaurant where she worked part time – Judith eventually accepted that the notebook was lost. When she told her grandmother, she saw a smile on her grandmother’s face: “Don’t worry, Jude. I will get you another one.”

It all started two months ago when Judith received a call from her grandmother. “Jude”, her grandmother whispered on the phone, “I can’t get up from the bed.” Judith hung up and rushed home in the night. They went to the hospital only to receive the bad news. It pained Judith to watch the nurses connect her grandmother to all sorts of strange, nameless medical appliances. They said at this stage surgery was not an option, and chemotherapy would be needed.

After taking her grandmother home, Judith knew what she needed to do.

The next morning, she did not return to college. Instead, she drove straight to a grocery store nearby and applied for a job. They told her she could start right away. In the afternoon, she sat down with her grandmother and posted pictures of the family piano online, selling it for five thousand dollars. In the evening she emailed all the instructors who were teaching her for the semester. It wasn't long before she received a message from Professor Lebedinsky, asking to meet in person in the dean’s office.

Judith went in the following day. Before she even sat down, he got right to the point: “Tell me why you want to drop out of college.”

“I cannot afford to study music anymore.”

“You can’t afford tuition?” He handed her a flyer. “There will be an on-campus audition with the piano department next month. They’re offering a full scholarship.”

“It’s not about the scholarship, Professor.” Judith asserted. “I don’t see a way around this. I need to work. And I need my tuition money back for something urgent.”

“Something more important than your education?”

“Yes sir.”

The professor stopped asking questions. Judith remained seated and looked away, waiting. A short silence fell. On the office table next to his laptop stood a miniature bust of Schubert, catching her gaze. She could see the wrinkles flowing on the cravat of the fine sculpture. Soon she would be working at the grocery store, stocking inventories and checking out customers. No one would be talking about Schubert anymore.

“Alright.” He finally conceded. “Talk to your counselor. The refund usually takes about 2 weeks.” As she exited the office, she saw him taking off his glasses, looking tired.

The process sounded simple enough. Very soon Judith would have her tuition refunded, which would cover the cost of chemotherapy. But it was no time to relax. She needed to consider nursing expenses - someone needed to take care of her grandmother while she worked. Working at the restaurant on weekends would help, but she needed more. Judith realized she needed to keep this one job that she was about to turn down.

It was the first department recital Judith participated in as a sophomore. Normally students would apply to perform in their junior year, but Professor Lebedinsky was confident she was ready. An hour before the recital, an old man in dark grey suit arrived to claim the center seat in the first row. “That’s Mr. Henderson.” A senior student told Judith. “At Julliard, he used to walk out if he deemed a student performance 'subpar’. It's worth a shot to play for him though. He has sponsored several scholarships.” Butterflies started stirring in Judith’s stomach. “Calm down.” She told herself while walking up the stage, “Grandma will be here. She will be proud of you, no matter what”. The spotlight shone brightly on her, blurring out the faces in the audience. It was just her and the black and white keys, the music, and Beethoven. From the front row, Mr. Henderson watched her performance so attentively that he barely moved. When she finished playing, he stood up and applauded earnestly. “That was an excellent interpretation, and such technical integrity! How would you like to come play for me sometimes?” He asked Judith after the recital. She was caught off guard at first, but it was a well paid part-time job. Plus, there was a hint of a magnificent heirloom grand Steinway which made the offer too appealing. So Judith went, and she kept going. She had been playing for Mr. Henderson for an entire year now.

Today she was afraid to play for him. Music had been the last thing on her mind lately, but she couldn’t bring herself to call Mr Henderson and quit. It wasn’t just about the money, and she knew it. The thought of parting with music very soon and for good was terrifying. While feeling anxious, she found herself on the subway heading to Mr. Henderson’s mansion. The commute was about 30 minutes. Sitting down by a window seat, Judith laid her head on the glass, feeling totally worn out. The colorful street lights flashing through the windows started to melt away. She closed her eyes and let herself drift away with them.

A seven year old Judith was standing in her grandmother’s house, holding in her arm a plush hedgehog. There was a beautiful lady dressed in red talking to her grandmother in the hallway, back turned towards her. “But she’s your daughter!” Her grandmother cried out. The lady shook her head, and suddenly turned around. Judith couldn’t see her face. A plain white cloth draped over her whole head like the female lover in René Magritte’s painting. She paused at Judith for a second before hurrying out the door, and somehow Judith knew they would never meet again. “Go back to your room, Jude.” Her grandmother smiled, but Judith could see her tears. “I have something for you under the bed. I hope you like it.” Judith unwrapped the gift - it was a small black notebook. On the first page it said: “Happy Birthday Jude. With Love, Grandma”.

The train siren rang abruptly, awaking Judith. She looked up to find that she had missed her station – she was supposed to get off 20 minutes ago. She grabbed her score book and rushed off at the next stop. By the time she reached Mr. Henderson’s house, she was an hour late.

“You are very late.” Said Mr. Henderson, “I hope you are aware of that.”

“I’m very sorry.” Judith followed Mr. Henderson into the house.

The beautiful grand Steinway laid in the middle of the vast living room, under a giant crystal chandelier. Judith placed her sheets on the stand and adjusted the stool. She was playing Beethoven tonight. Something was off from the first note. She was shocked to learn how much she had retrograded. For a moment her mind went blank. She thought she probably had missed a few bars, but that was just the beginning. Her wrists were stiff, and the touch of her fingers felt sloppy. Then her pedal started to sound muddy, and one of her fingers landed on a wrong note, and then another, and another. The piano she loved became a wuthering monster, and the sonata turned into an unwinding labyrinth she was desperate to escape from. Finally Judith stopped playing, during the middle of the second movement. Sitting in complete silence, she wished she had never come tonight.

Mr. Henderson sat still. Behind his glasses, his eyes were so austere that she couldn’t help but look away. The silence lasted for a minute, or maybe longer, Judith couldn’t tell. Eventually Mr. Henderson spoke:

“Tell me, what happened?”

“I...I have not been practicing lately. I’m very sorry, Mr. Henderson.”

“That is not what I meant,” He leaned forward, putting his hands on his legs, fixing his eyes on Judith. Judith felt cold as if she was walking barefoot in the snow. “I mean, what happened to you?”

Judith couldn’t move. How could she answer without embarrassing herself. What was she thinking, really, coming here tonight? This was not a job that she qualified for anymore. She opened her mouth but couldn’t say a word. Mr. Henderson continued:

“We both know that was not a good performance, and I want to know why. I always like your performances. You are very talented, and hardworking. But tonight I saw a talented student losing it, and I could not pretend that I didn’t see it. I want to know what happened, and why you are giving up.”

Judith felt frozen as if she was thrown into a river in early January. She sat in silence, while Mr. Henderson gazed at her with a strict look. Staring at her hands, she heard her own voice from a distance:

“I…I don’t want to play music anymore.”

Then suddenly she started talking nonstop.

“I am sorry, Mr. Henderson. I should have called you. I can’t play for you anymore. I can’t afford to pursue music. I need to start to make a living, and I won’t be good enough to perform. I must figure out something else. I sold my grandmother’s piano, I am going to be working at a grocery store, and I am going to drop out of college. The tuition refund will help cover medical bills, otherwise I can’t afford chemotherapy for my grandmother. My grandmother,” Judith took a deep breath, “She is not doing well. She is dying, I can feel it. I grew up with her and she is all I’ve got.” She couldn’t go on. Tears fell on her hands. She covered her face and cried silently.

Mr. Henderson listened without saying a word. When Judith stopped talking, he stood up from his chair. “Stay here.”, he said, and then turned around toward his study. When he returned he brought a soft handkerchief, a black pen, and a small folder. He handed Judith the handkerchief and asked her:

“How much do you need for chemotherapy?”

“Ten grand.”

Mr. Henderson took out the checkbook from his folder. After he finished writing, he handed the check to Judith:

“Here is twenty grand.”

Judith couldn’t believe what had just happened.

“I don’t know what to say, Mr. Henderson. That is too much.” She paused, “Thank you. But I can’t take it. There’s no way I can pay you back.”

Mr. Henderson gazed at Judith with a serious look.

“I want you to take it, young lady.” He continued, “And reconsider your decision. I have sponsored a lot of talented students, and I plan to do the same for you. I hope you will decide to finish your school, and I hope you will buy the piano back.” He paused, looking at Judith’s score book, “And remember, no matter what,” He commanded, “Never stop playing.”

Ten months later, on an early spring morning, Judith arrived at Professor Lebedinsky’s office. She came to discuss the program for her first concert, and also to ask if he would let her reserve two tickets. “Of course - here you go! And I keep forgetting. This is probably yours.” He handed over a black notebook from his desk drawer, which Judith recognized immediately. On the front page was the signature she had seen a thousand times: “With Love, Grandma”.

Before heading to Mr. Henderson’s to deliver one of the tickets herself, Judith had another visit. She made a stop at the graveyard. Her grandmother’s tombstone rested under a large oak tree with rugged roots buried deep beneath the ground. She laid down a dozen white roses and the other ticket on the dark marble. Then she stood in silence, holding the black notebook close to her chest. The sun shone upon the grass. Winter had passed, and spring was here.