For the next hour and some minutes, Roderich struggled to continuously explain the basics of holding the instrument and the bow. His pupil was eager to learn, but stubborn to admit when he was wrong. This became more and more of an issue as the lesson went on, as the mistakes Gilbert were unwilling to own up to piled upon one another. Roderich swore he could feel his hair turning gray.
The professor glanced at the clock from the corner of his eye, relieved that it was now exactly one o'clock. This was only the first lesson, he reminded himself. Gilbert would be back next week for another round of bashing their heads into the wall.
"Well, that's our time for today. A good start." Roderich said, feeling confident that he hadn't lied but hadn't been rude.
Gilbert grinned, staring down the neck of the instrument. "I feel like I'll get it really fast." He pulled the bow across the strings, rocking between the four of them loudly with a swift, broad motion.
"I'm sure you will." Roderich stated, returning to his now empty coffee. That statement, he felt, was a bit closer to a lie.
"So what's my homework?" Gilbert asked, beginning to strap the instrument to it's place inside of the case.
The professor turned, leaning against his desk. He pressed his lips against the thermos, more out of habit than expecting liquid. "For this week let's just start on open strings, we need to get you comfortable with the instrument."
The pupil groaned. "That's it? I can't do anything more fun?"
At his wit's end, Roderich put the thermos back down. "If you don't have the basics down, you won't be able to do anything fun at all."
"Fine…" Gilbert snapped the locks shut. "But I don't have any more homework?"
"Do you want homework?" Roderich scoffed.
"You're a professor, that's what you do."
"I hope I encourage learning and the importance of music in one's life, before I assign homework." He took a seat behind his desk, leaning back in the chair.
Gilbert took a seat across from him, much to his annoyance. "Yeah yeah. I guess I just want to know what else I can do!"
Looking up at the ceiling, Roderich wondered for a moment. "Well…" He looked down, shuffling around in the drawers of his desk. He found a small, half-sized notebook of staff paper, and a pen. He wrote in enough notes to fill the page, and labeled one of each. "Here." He slid the notebook over to Gilbert, leaning forward. "Cellists primarily play in bass clef, and here is a guide to reading the notes you'll eventually be playing."
Gilbert raised his eyebrows and the corners of his mouth sank, looking immediately overwhelmed. "I can barely read English now you're asking me to learn a new language."
Roderich smiled. "Music is the universal language. You must master this language, and speak and read it to fluency," he pointed to one of the notes he had labeled. "Besides, there are only seven letters. A-B-C-D-E-F-G. I've even used the American version so that you can more easily find games on the internet to help you learn."
His pupil blinked slowly. "The American version? How many versions are there?"
Roderich sighed. "Just worry about this for right now. But if you see 'H' anywhere, that's just 'B'." He closed the notebook. "Fill in the rest of these by next week and find some internet games that help you practice note-naming."
"There's an 'H'?" Gilbert said, exasperated.
Roderich laughed. "Don't be overwhelmed. Now, I'll see you next week." He stood up and opened the door, hoping to rush the man out of his office. He was not anxious for his return.
Gilbert stood slowly, holding the half notebook in one hand and dragging his cello in the other. "Uh, alright. Now that you've dropped the bomb on me."
Roderich held the door open, raising an eyebrow. "You can email me with questions. Or consult google."
"Okay…" for once speechless, Gilbert rolled his case out and around the door. "Well, see you next week Professor."
"Yes, yes, see you next week." Before Gilbert had a chance to reply, Roderich closed the door and plopped down into his chair, leaning back with a groan. He couldn't draw the line between where Gilbert wanted to play cello and where Gilbert was willing to learn. Perhaps he would show enough initiative and responsibility to figure out the instrument, but his stubborn nature was only going to keep him from progressing.
Cursing silently, Roderich toyed with the hammer once more. He hit the key as hard as he could, but the note was still muffled. He returned to the piano bench, unhappy with the situation and his day in general. Max, Gilbert, and now his piano were all working to make his life as difficult as possible today.
He sighed, closing the key cover and resting his head on it. Perhaps he should just go to bed early. He felt his phone vibrate from the top of the piano. He answered before looking to see who it was.
"Hello."
"Hi, Dr. Edelstein, it's Adelaide. Are you home?"
His neighbor rarely called him unless he had left his keys in the door or something similar. "…yes, why?"
"I've been ringing your doorbell, can I come in?"
Surprised, he turned to face his front door. "You have? Ah, sure, come in."
He saw the orange sunlight overtake the shadow and the silhouette of his neighbor appear in the entryway, and felt the thud of the door close behind her. Adelaide stepped into the living room, looking presentable as ever.
"Good evening, Adelaide. Are you headed to mass on a Thursday?" He felt rather smug, but he supposed he knew her well enough to make jokes such as this.
"And are you testing some experimental music?" She replied, sliding her shoes off and taking a seat in an arm chair facing the piano.
Roderich was confused. "I'm sorry?"
She laughed. "Well you've been banging on that one note for the last fifteen minutes, so I was just wondering what the cause of that was."
"Oh," he turned to look at the open lid, feeling discouraged. "Some of my upper notes are unusually muffled, and this one in particular was giving me grief. I apologize if it was bothering you."
She crossed her legs and tilted her head to the side. "Is something wrong with your piano?"
"I don't know. I certainly hope not." He opened the key cover again, playing a quick scale on the upper two octaves and scowling. "See? Does it not sound unusually soft to you? I wonder if there is something wrong with the hammers."
Adelaide raised an eyebrow. "I don't know, it doesn't sound different to me. But, I'm not a musician."
He hummed in curiosity. He looked at the piano in disappointment. "I suppose I'll have the technician come look at it again…" he turned back to his guest. "So, are you well? Are you done with school?"
"Yes, and yes, thank you. I've actually just returned from my first day at Heidelberg Printing." She smiled proudly, unconsciously straightening her pencil skirt.
"Are you really going all the way to Heidelberg every day?" He said, dumfounded.
She shrugged. "For now. I'm taking the train, and if the commute gets to be too much I might move."
He smiled politely. "I would be sad to see you go, but I wish you the best."
"Thank you, Dr. Edelstein, I really appreciate it." She stood, making her way back towards the door. "Well, I won't keep you any longer. I just wanted to make sure you weren't having a stroke at your piano or something."
He stood in reaction, making his way from behind the piano bench to the doorway. "Thank you for your concern, Adelaide. I'll stop bothering with the keys for now."
She slid her shoes back on, heading for the door and pulling it open. "Also, you might want to call the landlord about the doorbell, they fixed mine for free." She reached around the door and pressed the button, and looked confused. "Oh, it does work."
Roderich blinked. "Press it again."
She reached around again, looking back at him.
"Did you press it?" He asked.
"I'm pressing it over and over again. It's working just fine."
He furrowed his brow. "You're not playing games with me, are you?"
She returned his look. "I wouldn't do that. Can you not hear it?"
The world paused for a moment as Roderich caught up with her question. "…no."
Adelaide didn't know what to say. She brought her hands back to her side. After a moment, she looked up at the doorbell speaker in the entryway. "I bet maintenance would install a different bell for you, one that's not such a high sound. I bet that's why you can't hear it."
He couldn't exactly process the thought. He had always been able to hear it before. "I'm not that old." He said, thinking out loud.
She replied firmly. "…I'm not saying that, Dr. Edelstein. You may just not be able to hear such a high sound."
He looked down, confused. "I'm probably just getting sick again, being around so many students. Sometimes my ears get foggy when I catch colds."
She smiled softly. "I'm sure that's what it is. Well, get better soon," She stepped through the doorway and on to the sidewalk. "Have a good evening."
Quietly, he said, "Yes, you as well, Adelaide. Thank you." He closed the door slowly behind her, and stared at the wood for a moment. He certainly didn't feel sick, and even when he was, he had never not been able to hear the doorbell. He eyed the piano, feeling sudden dread wash over him. What was wrong with him?
He shook his head, and sighed. Perhaps he would head to bed early after all.
