"Anywhere. I just want to get out for a while."
"I'm sorry, but I need a destination."
I think for a moment. What do I feel like doing?
"The conservatory," I say. "I miss having a piano around. I can rent some time and go and practice for a while."
"Ok. Whenever you're ready."
I call the conservatory but they had no small sound rooms left. I'll have to make do with an empty lecture hall that has an old grand piano on the stage. I pull on a sweater and my jeans and brush my hair. Before I leave, I write a note to Frances, just in case she comes home before I return.
"Out for a bit – be back soon. XOXOX"
The two guards take up positions at the front and back doors of the building to keep an eye out in case I've been followed.
It's good to feel the keyboard under my hands again. I have to play the old stuff – pieces I know by heart without my sheet music. Alone in the empty lecture theatre, I play my entire repertory, and soon became lost in the music. Years ago, when I was younger, before my mother's death, they dreamed of me being a soloist. My father taught me for a few years when I was age three to five, but he found new teachers because I learned so quickly. Music is tied to my father so intimately that I can't play without feeling some grief for his loss to insanity.
I finish playing and rest my head on the piano. It brings back memories of my childhood and gives me a choky feeling of regret. I start to play another piece but then feel someone sit down beside me and turn only to be staring into Julien's face. Before I can react, he has a hand over my mouth and a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
I nod and he withdraws his hand.
"Sorry to startle you. Go ahead," he says and motions to the piano. "Play some more. I was enjoying it."
"How did you know I was here?"
He smiles. "Do you really think I'm going to answer that?"
I don't respond. Of course he must have someone on the inside of the SCU feeding him information.
"Why are you here?"
He points to the keys.
"I heard you were coming to play. I rearranged a meeting so I could listen."
"I already finished playing."
He points to the instrument. "Play some more."
I shake my head.
"I don't feel like it."
"Eve," he says and I can hear exasperation in his voice. "I don't want to have to force the issue. Just play something. Do you know any Bach?"
"You don't like Chopin?"
"I prefer Bach."
I play a Bach Prelude – C Sharp Minor – and he closes his eyes until the piece is over. He opens his eyes and smiles at me, but his smile is sad.
"I heard it played a few years after he wrote it," he says. "After it was published, all the students in Vienna learned to play pieces from The Well Tempered Clavier."
I shake my head.
"God, I can't imagine what its like to live so long."