Once upon a time, in the 1970s, there was a young boy who fell in love with music. One day, his grandparents had taken him to a play in which all the songs about love, heroism and tragedy were sung by beautiful men and beautiful women in beautiful dresses and suits. The boy did not see them, did not hear them, for all his attention were focused on the perfectly tuned notes coming from the grand piano that stood on the far side of the stage. A dark-skinned, elderly man played the piano and he was smiling a smile so broad that it shone to the boy as bright as the sun.
The boy wanted the music.
Now, the boy's parents weren't rich and his mother had fallen ill due to the little sister of the boy she was carrying inside her. The boy asked for a piano of his very own the day after the play, but had to find that his mother had no ear for his wishes. So the boy went to his father that evening after the man had returned from his work and had to find that his father had no ear for his wishes as well and can't you just go away, you little brat? I swear you and your no-good laze of a mother are going to be the- The boy ran outside the room. But instead of hiding inside his room or up in the cosy tree house he had build all on his own, the boy flitted into the kitchen and got a cooled bottle of Molson's out of the fridge, climbed up a chair to be able to reach the cupboard where they kept the dishes, got a glass and brought the beer to his father. At least you're good for that, Rodney. There's hope for you yet, boy.
The boy who had fallen in love with music was seven years and eight months old and was a very bright child. He went to a special school that dealt with gifted children up in Bancroft, Ontario, but he was always so bored in class. Maths was so easy, French was boring and simple, and he already had studied all the books that were supposed to be for children five years older than he was. Music interested him!
The boy was a very bright child, indeed, and he had learned not to ask for the same thing twice, for it made his mother cry and be sad about money and then she would talk and cry at his father and Rodney had learned to better not make his father upset.
It was the week when his mother was away to give you a beautiful little baby sister, Rodney, everything is going to be better now that he went over to his grandparent's house everyday after school instead of getting on the bus and riding home like he usually did. They were his father's parents and Rodeny really loved them with all his heart, really, he did! The only thing that made him sad was that he couldn't talk to them about how he felt at home and why can't Mom and me and the baby live with you? The boy had asked his grandmother if he could have his very own piano, but had to find out that he couldn't because she and Granddad weren't rich and they all had to eat, didn't they?
And the boy was sad.
Sad because he was in love for the first time in his life and couldn't be with his love. Sad because his mother had rang him and had told him that his baby sister had been born and that her name is Jean, Rodney, and she's the most precious little girl. So tiny and so cute. Sad because his mother would be at home in five days and would bring Jeannie with her and the little baby couldn't know that life had been better when she was still protected in her mommy's belly. Sad because his father would say brat, laze, and stupid idiot, and goddamned drunken whore to his little sister like he did to him and his mother and Rodney didn't know what a whore was but ke knew that his mother wasn't one because his father lied. All the time. And he loved his little baby sister so, so, so much already and he didn't want her to have to live like him.
The boy who loved music and his sister and his mother and his grandparents was still so very sad the next day and the day after that he became ill. His grandmother was very worried about him and fed him chicken soup and gave him a band-aid on his arm even though his arm wasn't hurt. It had little duckies on it, in yellow, red and white.
The boy was still ill the next day and in the evening his grandmother sat on his bed and asked him what would make him better again. He was so very sad and loved his grandmother so very much that he told her. He told her about the music and how beautiful it was and how much he would like to be able to make music because he wanted to be beautiful, too. His grandmother said oh, Rodney, sweet. But you are. But you are, darling. and held him in her arms. She smelled like mint and flour as the boy burrowed his face against her bosom and told her about his new sister and his mother and how he loved them and that he wanted then to be happy so very much. He told her about his father and the boy forgot that he was his grandmother's son and told her about his father. The boy fell asleep cushioned on the slightly trembling breasts of his grandmother, smelling salt in the air and listening ot the hushed lullaby that was sung to him in a breaking, unsteady voice.
As the boy returned from school the next day and climbed up the six steps of the stairs in front of his grandparent's home he heard it. Heard the music.
It came from out of the livingroom! The boy raced up the last three steps, threw open the door and ran into the house. There it was! A piano! Standing against the wall next to the window! Grandmother sat on the stool in front of it and played a melody Rodney knew from her lullabies!
He must have made a sound because his grandmother turned around to him and smiled. Come here, darling, show me that music of yours, honey. Rodney skipped across the room and sat onto his grandmother's lap because she had patted it and that always meant he should come and sit down and let her cuddle him. He touched the keys and fell in love over and over again as each key made a different sound! There were black ones and white ones even!
Rodney sat for hours there at the piano and played while his grandmother held him and kissed his fair hair. Played while she told him that she had spoken to grandfather and that his mother was coming to live with them and him here at his grandparent's place for some time. Played as she told him that she loved him and that she hadn't wanted that for him. Played as she told him that she talked with his father and that he had called her bad names, too, just as Rodney had said he did.
The boy had stopped to play then and asked his grandmother if she knew what a whore was, because he didn't. His grandmother had started to cry then and the boy hadn't wanted that, so he started playing the piano again. To make his grandmother happy again. He was happy.
The next week his mother had come to live with him and grandmother and grandfather and she had brought his little sister with her! She was so very tiny! The boy felt like she would break if he held her, but grandmother had said Nonsense! And made him sit down on the couch and let him hold Jeannie. He loved her so very much, even though all she did was blink at him and blow a spit bubble. Rodney didn't get to hold Jeannie very often because all she did was sleep and drink from his mother's breasts and squall when she wanted to have her diaper changed. But once a day he was allowed to play with her, even if playing really just meant holding her and telling her stories or feeding her warm milk from the little cute bottle.
The boy knew that there were things going on with his father, but he wasn't told much. Some days his grandfather would be gone and some days his mother would. Gone to talk to him. But that stopped soon and then they had more money all of a sudden! The boy was happy, because he could now get lessons in music and his little sister spoke now! Ma-ma-ma-ma and la-la-la-la-la-la, mind, but Rodney figured that la-la-la was perfect for the melodies he learned and played for her.
The boy was happy.