FIVE YEARS LATER
The thunderous final chords of the Rachmaninoff piano concerto resounded through the concert hall as Schroeder, focused on his performance, pounded the keys with abandon. He knew nothing but the gorgeous Steinway grand piano before him and the wonderful music that emanated from within. For one moment, an image crept into his consciousness: that of a young girl named Lucy van Pelt. It seemed to Schroeder that as he wrapped up his triumphant recital that this girl was looking at him from across the other end of the piano, her hands propping up her head, her elbows on the shiny ebony surface.
Lucy, is that you?
It had been a long time since the day when Lucy, Linus, and Rerun had said good-bye and left the neighborhood. Lucy had been true to her word. This time it was for real. There was no second thought of returning. Schroeder had not seen Lucy for five years.
The apparition vanished from his sight.
When Schroeder thought about Lucy, he felt a bit of chagrin. He felt… how did he feel? What was the word he was looking for? Guilty. Yes, he felt guilty for the way he had treated her, insulting her and insisting that he would never love her unless she were the last girl on earth.
"HOPE!"
That's what she'd said when he'd told her that. He never forgot the absurdity of the moment, and it made him laugh to think about it.
Sometimes, Schroeder wondered what might have happened if he had reached out to her and become her friend. The idea had seemed so repellent at the time. Hang out with a girl? Gross, what an unwholesome thought. But Schroeder was thirteen now. He had lost none of the good looks he'd been blessed with as a young child. Schroeder's grandmother exclaimed every year that he had grown more handsome. The girls at his school took notice of him. They said he was cute, and they pursued him. But none of them interested him. They were all either unattractive, or uninteresting, or both. Schroeder had not forgotten the first girl who had loved him. There was an indescribable charm attached to the one who was the "first."
The audience in the crowded concert hall erupted in applause. Schroeder smiled as he stood up and took a bow. He gestured to the orchestra in acknowledgement. He could hear the voices in the crowd, all lavishing praise on him, proclaiming that he, Schroeder, was a genius, a prodigy. The teenaged girls in the audience gave a collective sigh in smitten admiration.
* * *
Schroeder made his way around the post-concert reception, thanking the well- wishers and admirers. He had become something of a town celebrity for his piano playing. This was his first large-scale public performance, and he had pulled it off brilliantly.
"So talented, and so young!" someone exclaimed.
A girl about his age approached him. Schroeder looked up, ready to smile and shake another hand, when he was astonished by the face before him. There was no mistaking Lucy, even after an absence of five years.
"Hello, Schroeder," Lucy said with a shy smile. She held out for him a bouquet of roses.
Dumbstruck, Schroeder silently accepted the roses. He did not know what to say to her.
"You were wonderful tonight," Lucy said.
"Thanks, Lucy," Schroeder said.
"Is this how you act around your childhood friends? Come on, give me a hug," Lucy said, opening her arms to Schroeder. They embraced.
"It's nice to see you again," Schroeder said. He forgot about everyone else in the room. For all he knew, it could have been only him and Lucy in that reception hall.
The two separated.
Schroeder looked at his watch.
"Hey, it's only 10:00," he said to Lucy, "want to hang out someplace?"
Lucy smiled. She fidgeted for a few seconds.
"Um, actually…"
Another boy, the same age, approached Lucy and Schroeder. Schroeder turned and saw a guy he had never seen before.
"Schroeder, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Schroeder. We used to live down the street from each other when we were little kids."
Schroeder and Jimmy shook hands congenially. Schroeder tried his best to conceal his disappointment that Lucy was not single. He hid his feelings beneath his smile.
"Listen," Lucy said to her boyfriend, "I'm going to hang out with Schroeder tonight and catch up. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
Jimmy nodded.
* * *
"I didn't expect to see you at a classical music concert," Schroeder said to Lucy as the two ate their ice cream sundaes at a table in the diner.
"I listened to you play Beethoven's entire repertoire," Lucy said.
She raised her eyebrow at him. "Didn't I?"
Schroeder laughed.
"Come on, you didn't listen to me because you were interested in the music."
"Oh, so that's how it is. I just wanted to be near you, is that right? As a matter of fact, I've grown to like classical music," Lucy said. "When I read that you would be playing Rachmaninoff's piano concerto #2, I got so excited because I hadn't seen you in so long. I knew the music would be great, and that you would be brilliant."
"Thank you," Schroeder said, looking into Lucy's eyes. She had grown more beautiful over the years. He had always remembered her as being mean- spirited and abrasive, a far cry from the gentle young woman who now faced him.
"I thought of you when I was playing the concert," Schroeder confessed after a long silence.
"You did?" Lucy blushed.
"Remember when you used to sit at the other end of my piano and talk on and on about how someday we would be married?"
"Oh," Lucy blushed even more, "you still remember that? How embarrassing. I can't believe I used to say things like that."
Schroeder shrugged.
"It was pretty funny, wasn't it?"
"We were just kids. I'm sorry if I annoyed you all those years ago."
"No, it's okay. I don't mind."
Schroeder wanted to tell Lucy how he had thought of her with regret and wondered at what might have been. He wanted to tell her that if he could go back, he would have been nicer to her. Most of all, he wanted to tell her how much he missed her at the other side of his piano, because when he looked at her now, he was reminded of a time when they were younger and carefree.
"Schroeder, I'd really like for us to be friends," Lucy said.
"Me too," Schroeder smiled. "Can I call you sometime?"
"Of course," Lucy said. "You have my number, right? I gave it to Charlie Brown five years ago. But no one ever called."
"I'm sorry I never called," Schroeder said. "It always seemed too… weird. I didn't know what we'd talk about."
"And I never called you because I was too proud. I felt like people should be calling me and not vice versa. It doesn't have to be that way, right?"
Lucy gave Schroeder a hopeful look.
The waiter came by the table with the bill. Schroeder reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Lucy stopped him by grabbing the tab.
"No, it's my treat," Lucy said.
"But—" Schroeder protested.
"No, you deserve it, and anyway, I haven't seen you in years," Lucy said. "I want to do nice things for you. Make up for lost time, you know?"
"Besides," Lucy said with a hint of irony in her voice, "you know how I am when I insist on something."
* * *
They were just two guys playing catch on the baseball field. Schroeder and Charlie Brown were alone as they tossed the baseball back and forth. It was something the two of them still enjoyed doing after all these years. The games between Charlie Brown's team and Peppermint Patty's team were no more. A new generation of kids had taken up playing their neighborhood baseball games, while Charlie Brown and Schroeder had gone on, with mixed results, to try out for their school's baseball teams.
"So I make the team," Charlie Brown said, "and they put me on second base. Second base! I wanted to be a pitcher. I told the coach but he wouldn't listen."
"And then what happened?" Schroeder said.
"We were playing a pre-season game, and they were beating us badly. It got so bad that the coach came onto the field and handed me the ball. He said, 'Okay, round headed kid, you pitch to this guy.' So I took the ball with one out. I got the first guy to pop up. Then I struck out the second guy to end the inning."
"You struck him out?!" Schroeder said in surprise. That was about as rare as Haley's Comet passing by the earth.
"Yeah, can you believe it? After that I was on the starting rotation. I was doing great. But there was one game… I just could not get anyone out. They just kept hitting and hitting… and hitting. It was getting really ugly. Finally the coach pulled me from the game, and I sat on the bench and cried like a baby. I never pitched again. I kept wondering, every game, am I going to pitch today? But the ball never came into my hand.
"Sometimes," Charlie Brown said, "I wonder what would have happened if it hadn't been for that one game. Would I still be pitching today? I miss the old days, when we had our whole gang together, and I pitched all the time."
The two friends sat on the bench in silence. They could see the ghosts on the field, as in the days of old. There was Schroeder, five years younger, conversing on the mound with the hapless pitcher, Charlie Brown. There was Linus at second base. His idea of diligent defense was to stand there with his blanket and glove, sucking his thumb. Snoopy, the canine incarnation of Ozzy Smith, patrolled his section of the infield. Far off in the outfield, there was Lucy in center field, flanked on both sides by Violet and Pig Pen.
Schroeder felt a lump forming in his throat. Where had their days of heaven gone?
"I saw Lucy yesterday," Schroeder said as the two of them sat down on their old dugout bench.
"Oh, really? What happened?"
"We just hung out and talked for a while. She has a boyfriend now," Schroeder said.
"You sound disappointed," Charlie Brown.
"You think so?"
"Yeah," Charlie Brown said, "if I didn't know better, it sounds to me like you liked her. You always liked her."
"Huh, well," Schroeder said, embarrassed. "Maybe I did… a little."
"Ha!" Charlie Brown cried, nearly knocking Schroeder off the bench, "I KNEW IT!"
* * *
Alone once again, Schroeder headed home after saying good-bye to Charlie Brown. On the way home, he spotted Snoopy. The old beagle was lying with his back on his dog house, his head resting on an old, weathered hard cover edition of Leo Tolstoy's WAR AND PEACE.
"How's it going, Snoopy," Schroeder said, feeling stupid for talking to a dog.
Snoopy opened an eye and gazed at Schroeder.
"Still reading Tolstoy, I see," Schroeder said.
(It's great), Snoopy thought. (I'm on the part where Nikolai Rostov meets Marya for the first time and rescues her from the rebellious peasants. How romantic! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy all over.)
"You know, I don't think I've seen you reading anything other than something by Tolstoy."
(You must have missed me when I was reading some Proust. There's a great part in the story where the hero is describing his unrequited love for the girl Gilbertte. He decides one day that he will never see her again. Secretly, he longs for a message from her, asking for reconciliation, but it never comes. He knows that he will stop loving her one day, and the thought breaks his heart, but he goes on anyway. Remembrance of Things Past. Or as the French say, A la recherche du temps perdu.)
"I saw Lucy again," Schroeder said. "You know, I never told her. I never told anyone how I felt about her. I missed her. I missed seeing her face and hearing her voice. I missed…"
(I remember Lucy. I remember kissing her on the nose.)
Silence.
"Am I crazy for saying such a thing?"
Snoopy only looked at Schroeder in relentless silence.
"I must be crazy saying all this to a dog," he said as he walked away.
Snoopy returned to his nap.
(Ah, Je comprends,) he fancifully thought to himself as he drifted to dreamland. (Tu aime Lucy.)
(You love Lucy.)
The thunderous final chords of the Rachmaninoff piano concerto resounded through the concert hall as Schroeder, focused on his performance, pounded the keys with abandon. He knew nothing but the gorgeous Steinway grand piano before him and the wonderful music that emanated from within. For one moment, an image crept into his consciousness: that of a young girl named Lucy van Pelt. It seemed to Schroeder that as he wrapped up his triumphant recital that this girl was looking at him from across the other end of the piano, her hands propping up her head, her elbows on the shiny ebony surface.
Lucy, is that you?
It had been a long time since the day when Lucy, Linus, and Rerun had said good-bye and left the neighborhood. Lucy had been true to her word. This time it was for real. There was no second thought of returning. Schroeder had not seen Lucy for five years.
The apparition vanished from his sight.
When Schroeder thought about Lucy, he felt a bit of chagrin. He felt… how did he feel? What was the word he was looking for? Guilty. Yes, he felt guilty for the way he had treated her, insulting her and insisting that he would never love her unless she were the last girl on earth.
"HOPE!"
That's what she'd said when he'd told her that. He never forgot the absurdity of the moment, and it made him laugh to think about it.
Sometimes, Schroeder wondered what might have happened if he had reached out to her and become her friend. The idea had seemed so repellent at the time. Hang out with a girl? Gross, what an unwholesome thought. But Schroeder was thirteen now. He had lost none of the good looks he'd been blessed with as a young child. Schroeder's grandmother exclaimed every year that he had grown more handsome. The girls at his school took notice of him. They said he was cute, and they pursued him. But none of them interested him. They were all either unattractive, or uninteresting, or both. Schroeder had not forgotten the first girl who had loved him. There was an indescribable charm attached to the one who was the "first."
The audience in the crowded concert hall erupted in applause. Schroeder smiled as he stood up and took a bow. He gestured to the orchestra in acknowledgement. He could hear the voices in the crowd, all lavishing praise on him, proclaiming that he, Schroeder, was a genius, a prodigy. The teenaged girls in the audience gave a collective sigh in smitten admiration.
* * *
Schroeder made his way around the post-concert reception, thanking the well- wishers and admirers. He had become something of a town celebrity for his piano playing. This was his first large-scale public performance, and he had pulled it off brilliantly.
"So talented, and so young!" someone exclaimed.
A girl about his age approached him. Schroeder looked up, ready to smile and shake another hand, when he was astonished by the face before him. There was no mistaking Lucy, even after an absence of five years.
"Hello, Schroeder," Lucy said with a shy smile. She held out for him a bouquet of roses.
Dumbstruck, Schroeder silently accepted the roses. He did not know what to say to her.
"You were wonderful tonight," Lucy said.
"Thanks, Lucy," Schroeder said.
"Is this how you act around your childhood friends? Come on, give me a hug," Lucy said, opening her arms to Schroeder. They embraced.
"It's nice to see you again," Schroeder said. He forgot about everyone else in the room. For all he knew, it could have been only him and Lucy in that reception hall.
The two separated.
Schroeder looked at his watch.
"Hey, it's only 10:00," he said to Lucy, "want to hang out someplace?"
Lucy smiled. She fidgeted for a few seconds.
"Um, actually…"
Another boy, the same age, approached Lucy and Schroeder. Schroeder turned and saw a guy he had never seen before.
"Schroeder, this is Jimmy. Jimmy, this is Schroeder. We used to live down the street from each other when we were little kids."
Schroeder and Jimmy shook hands congenially. Schroeder tried his best to conceal his disappointment that Lucy was not single. He hid his feelings beneath his smile.
"Listen," Lucy said to her boyfriend, "I'm going to hang out with Schroeder tonight and catch up. I'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
Jimmy nodded.
* * *
"I didn't expect to see you at a classical music concert," Schroeder said to Lucy as the two ate their ice cream sundaes at a table in the diner.
"I listened to you play Beethoven's entire repertoire," Lucy said.
She raised her eyebrow at him. "Didn't I?"
Schroeder laughed.
"Come on, you didn't listen to me because you were interested in the music."
"Oh, so that's how it is. I just wanted to be near you, is that right? As a matter of fact, I've grown to like classical music," Lucy said. "When I read that you would be playing Rachmaninoff's piano concerto #2, I got so excited because I hadn't seen you in so long. I knew the music would be great, and that you would be brilliant."
"Thank you," Schroeder said, looking into Lucy's eyes. She had grown more beautiful over the years. He had always remembered her as being mean- spirited and abrasive, a far cry from the gentle young woman who now faced him.
"I thought of you when I was playing the concert," Schroeder confessed after a long silence.
"You did?" Lucy blushed.
"Remember when you used to sit at the other end of my piano and talk on and on about how someday we would be married?"
"Oh," Lucy blushed even more, "you still remember that? How embarrassing. I can't believe I used to say things like that."
Schroeder shrugged.
"It was pretty funny, wasn't it?"
"We were just kids. I'm sorry if I annoyed you all those years ago."
"No, it's okay. I don't mind."
Schroeder wanted to tell Lucy how he had thought of her with regret and wondered at what might have been. He wanted to tell her that if he could go back, he would have been nicer to her. Most of all, he wanted to tell her how much he missed her at the other side of his piano, because when he looked at her now, he was reminded of a time when they were younger and carefree.
"Schroeder, I'd really like for us to be friends," Lucy said.
"Me too," Schroeder smiled. "Can I call you sometime?"
"Of course," Lucy said. "You have my number, right? I gave it to Charlie Brown five years ago. But no one ever called."
"I'm sorry I never called," Schroeder said. "It always seemed too… weird. I didn't know what we'd talk about."
"And I never called you because I was too proud. I felt like people should be calling me and not vice versa. It doesn't have to be that way, right?"
Lucy gave Schroeder a hopeful look.
The waiter came by the table with the bill. Schroeder reached into his pocket for his wallet, but Lucy stopped him by grabbing the tab.
"No, it's my treat," Lucy said.
"But—" Schroeder protested.
"No, you deserve it, and anyway, I haven't seen you in years," Lucy said. "I want to do nice things for you. Make up for lost time, you know?"
"Besides," Lucy said with a hint of irony in her voice, "you know how I am when I insist on something."
* * *
They were just two guys playing catch on the baseball field. Schroeder and Charlie Brown were alone as they tossed the baseball back and forth. It was something the two of them still enjoyed doing after all these years. The games between Charlie Brown's team and Peppermint Patty's team were no more. A new generation of kids had taken up playing their neighborhood baseball games, while Charlie Brown and Schroeder had gone on, with mixed results, to try out for their school's baseball teams.
"So I make the team," Charlie Brown said, "and they put me on second base. Second base! I wanted to be a pitcher. I told the coach but he wouldn't listen."
"And then what happened?" Schroeder said.
"We were playing a pre-season game, and they were beating us badly. It got so bad that the coach came onto the field and handed me the ball. He said, 'Okay, round headed kid, you pitch to this guy.' So I took the ball with one out. I got the first guy to pop up. Then I struck out the second guy to end the inning."
"You struck him out?!" Schroeder said in surprise. That was about as rare as Haley's Comet passing by the earth.
"Yeah, can you believe it? After that I was on the starting rotation. I was doing great. But there was one game… I just could not get anyone out. They just kept hitting and hitting… and hitting. It was getting really ugly. Finally the coach pulled me from the game, and I sat on the bench and cried like a baby. I never pitched again. I kept wondering, every game, am I going to pitch today? But the ball never came into my hand.
"Sometimes," Charlie Brown said, "I wonder what would have happened if it hadn't been for that one game. Would I still be pitching today? I miss the old days, when we had our whole gang together, and I pitched all the time."
The two friends sat on the bench in silence. They could see the ghosts on the field, as in the days of old. There was Schroeder, five years younger, conversing on the mound with the hapless pitcher, Charlie Brown. There was Linus at second base. His idea of diligent defense was to stand there with his blanket and glove, sucking his thumb. Snoopy, the canine incarnation of Ozzy Smith, patrolled his section of the infield. Far off in the outfield, there was Lucy in center field, flanked on both sides by Violet and Pig Pen.
Schroeder felt a lump forming in his throat. Where had their days of heaven gone?
"I saw Lucy yesterday," Schroeder said as the two of them sat down on their old dugout bench.
"Oh, really? What happened?"
"We just hung out and talked for a while. She has a boyfriend now," Schroeder said.
"You sound disappointed," Charlie Brown.
"You think so?"
"Yeah," Charlie Brown said, "if I didn't know better, it sounds to me like you liked her. You always liked her."
"Huh, well," Schroeder said, embarrassed. "Maybe I did… a little."
"Ha!" Charlie Brown cried, nearly knocking Schroeder off the bench, "I KNEW IT!"
* * *
Alone once again, Schroeder headed home after saying good-bye to Charlie Brown. On the way home, he spotted Snoopy. The old beagle was lying with his back on his dog house, his head resting on an old, weathered hard cover edition of Leo Tolstoy's WAR AND PEACE.
"How's it going, Snoopy," Schroeder said, feeling stupid for talking to a dog.
Snoopy opened an eye and gazed at Schroeder.
"Still reading Tolstoy, I see," Schroeder said.
(It's great), Snoopy thought. (I'm on the part where Nikolai Rostov meets Marya for the first time and rescues her from the rebellious peasants. How romantic! It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy all over.)
"You know, I don't think I've seen you reading anything other than something by Tolstoy."
(You must have missed me when I was reading some Proust. There's a great part in the story where the hero is describing his unrequited love for the girl Gilbertte. He decides one day that he will never see her again. Secretly, he longs for a message from her, asking for reconciliation, but it never comes. He knows that he will stop loving her one day, and the thought breaks his heart, but he goes on anyway. Remembrance of Things Past. Or as the French say, A la recherche du temps perdu.)
"I saw Lucy again," Schroeder said. "You know, I never told her. I never told anyone how I felt about her. I missed her. I missed seeing her face and hearing her voice. I missed…"
(I remember Lucy. I remember kissing her on the nose.)
Silence.
"Am I crazy for saying such a thing?"
Snoopy only looked at Schroeder in relentless silence.
"I must be crazy saying all this to a dog," he said as he walked away.
Snoopy returned to his nap.
(Ah, Je comprends,) he fancifully thought to himself as he drifted to dreamland. (Tu aime Lucy.)
(You love Lucy.)
