Classically Minded
Lorey was brushing her hair when she heard the knock on her door. She deftly untangled the brush from her hair and placed it on the bathroom counter before going to answer the door. Unfortunately, Cashmere beat her to it.
“What do you want?” His bored alto voice drifted to Lorey’s ears and she quickened her step.
“I’m here for my first flute le-”
Cashmere had put up a hand to stop him. Then he turned lazily toward the inside of the house and yelled. “Sis!”
“Cashmere! There’s no need to yell; I heard the knock as well. Now, tuck in your shirt, and what have I told you about bringing your oboe to the door?” Cashmere only groaned in response and left in a march-like step. “Well, come on in, Swift. You’re a little early, but that’s fine.”
Upon entering the house, Swift immediately noticed how incredibly… in time everything was. It seemed the whole house moved at its own tempo. The clocks ticked away at a perfect 60 beats per minute, the wind chimes beat a D Major arpeggio at a slow 40 beats, and Lorey’s dress swished at 40 as well (half the tempo of her gait because they were heavy). Even Cashmere had walked away at a steady 120 (to match the clocks of course).
“Can I take your coat?” Lorey asked while she pulled out a music stand for the lesson. She had already dressed up in something a little more extravagant than her black concert dress to make sure Swift didn’t feel overdressed–curse him and his absolute obsession with lace–so she hoped he would take his jacket off to decrease the formality of his ensemble.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll wear it.” His voice came out in a lilting imitation of a British accent. London specifically if Lorey were to guess.
What a way to make things awkward was what Lorey wanted to say, but she stopped herself. She also noted that his British accent sounded forced and overly ___ but Lorey didn’t challenge him on that either. He was here to learn music, not fashion… also, the accent seemed to be employed out of respect for the way it sounded rather than contempt or outright malice. “Well then, why don’t we begin?”
~~~
The lesson was… straining to say the least. Lorey had tied up her hair in the middle to keep it out of her eyes, but she almost wished she had left it down to provide some level of cushioning between the flute’s piercing sound and her ears.
“That was a good try, Swift,” Lorey assured the boy, who was looking at the flute with some perturbation. He seemed upset that he didn’t sound like the musicians who performed in the concerts he liked so much. She meant it though. He had tried very hard and clearly wanted to do well, but nobody sounded great the first time they played. Plus, if the sounds coming from the flute proved anything, it was that Swift had gotten through the hardest part about playing: consistent air stream even when you are afraid of how it sounds.
Swift only hummed a little in response, clearly not quite placated by her praise. He quietly began cleaning his flute thoroughly and putting it away and Lorey was struck again by how determined he was to get it right.
“Swift?” Lorey interrupted him before he was able to leave once the instrument was cleaned. “Would you like to hear an oboe solo while you’re here?”
Suddenly, Swift’s face was right in front of her’s and he was nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes, of course!” In his excitement he hadn’t bothered to use his “posh” accent and Lorey could hear the faint tinge of Swedish shine through. Swift didn’t notice, but that was okay. She was just glad he seemed so passionate about this.
Cashmere was, of course, dragged over to come play the piano accompaniment with the minimal amount of grumbling Lorey could hope to get. When he began the opening refrains of the first of Schumann’s Romance, Swift was mesmerized. Swift may not have known exactly what piece it was or anything about it really, but it didn’t matter because he loved it from the minute he heard it. He was like that with most pieces from the baroque to romantic period to be honest.
Occasionally during a piano run Lorey would look up to see Swift staring wonderingly at Cashmere’s hands as they ran up and down the length of the piano.
“You both play really well!” Swift exclaimed when the last note faded out of existence. He was watching Cashmere with such intensity as he said that that Cashmere actually turned his head and blushed a little. “Your hands move so elegantly as well~~” Because Cashmere’s head was turned, he was a bit shocked when Swift grabbed his hands gently and ran his thumb down each finger. It took Cashmere a second to retract his hand.
“Ye, well, thanks for thinking that.” Cashmere wouldn’t look at Swift’s face and Lorey stifled a smile at their interaction.
Finally, Lorey spoke up. “You know, it might be nice to have a boy closer to Cashmere in age around the house…. Listen, Swift, you’re welcome in our house any time. Okay?” She was only a little surprised when Cashmere didn’t interject at all.
And… Let’s just say Swift wasn’t ever shy about taking them up on that offer.
