playing jane

The grand piano was staged in an odd place. And, someone was playing it. Did he move it himself? We weren't quite sure. Familiar melodies came from the foyer. M and I hastened our steps, eager to find out who this maestro was. We soon discovered this was no maestro. This was Mr. Maestro. Yes, this man had the talent and the tenacity. Somehow he wheeled that grand piano from stage left (the wall) to center stage (directly in the middle of the foyer, where four doors lead to one central entry way), placing him in perfect position, viewable from all angles and entrances. Any girl was bound to fall for this feat. To add to MM's forte, his musical selection would woo any girl directly into those ivory-tickling hands. He was lulling the ladies to the soundtrack to "Pride and Prejudice." And, he was playing from memory.

Such poise! Such technique! Our Horowitz of the Hour would glance from stage left, to stage right, trying to make eye contact with any girl who might be interested in being his Page Turner For Eternity. Talk about a grand gesture! I quickly diverted my eyes from his gaze, not wanting to distract from his version of PBS's Great Performances on location at the Institute building.

We walked on to find E. She was standing, eyes closed, legs crossed at her ankles. Her coat was folded over her arms and she was leaning against the back of a chair, clearly taking in the impromptu recital. I approached. Standing perpendicular to E and with my back to Mr. Maestro, I pointed in his direction with my thumb. "Is that a guy? Is he seriously pla...?" E nodded her head before I could get to the end of my inquiry. "Yes. That is why I'm standing here. It's my favorite." She closed her eyes, lost amid the trickling scales. He had gone to all this trouble. What with the piano moving and all. Not to mention the fact that I bet his neck really hurt from all that bobbing.

In an "oh-well" moment, I looked at E, folded my coat over my arms, crossed my boot-covered ankles, and leaned up against the back of the chair next to hers. I mirrored her every action, minus the eye-closing. I wasn't about to go that far. Plus, it was too entertaining to watch this guy's head bob up and down in anticipation of The Look of Love from girls who passed.

The song ended, and our Maestro began anew; another selection from the movie's score. E and I walked out together and began to talk about something else, the subject of which is escaping me. The English waltz one-two-three'd it in my head as E and I split up and I got into my car to drive home. I piled my books on the desk and reached into my closet. Before I realized it, "Pride and Prejudice," the movie, was playing on my laptop. I fell asleep to Darcy Dialog, Georgian-era girlish gossip and triplet notes.

As much as I hate to admit it, I think his plan worked, because today, at a random moment, I thought, "I sure hope Mr. Maestro is at Institute on Tuesday. I'll even help him move the piano."