Of all the times for the air-conditioning unit to give out, the middle of June was better than July or even August — or at least, that was Schroeder's reasoning when his mother suggested he go to the public pool or to a friend's house to play instead of spending the hot afternoon at his piano.
"Beethoven did not have air conditioning either," Schroeder consoled himself over and over. As sweat dripped down his blond head, he pictured Beethoven at his piano in Bonn or Vienna, enduring despite all outward discomfort in order to follow his passion.
His mother had already called a mechanic to come repair the air conditioning, and Schroeder could certainly survive for a day or two. Maybe if he could tap into those little moments of his hero's life, like enjoying a bowl of macaroni or going a whole day without using electricity, it would help him to understand Beethoven's life even better than what a biography could reveal to him.
To help him ignore the heat, however, he played songs which he knew had premiered in winter. Imagining himself at one of Beethoven's December concerts, with snow falling outside and an icy wind whistling among the chimneys, made the heavy air a little lighter, and he could almost forget the hot breeze barging through the open windows like a hair dryer.
Amidst the reverberating melody, familiar footsteps sauntered toward him, although Schroeder did not immediately perceive the noise until the newcomer almost reached his toy piano. On principle, he refused to look up, but whether or not he acknowledged Lucy Van Pelt made little difference. She would chatter and annoy him regardless, and on the rare times he showed a hint of (platonic) approval, she took it as a sign that he returned her infatuation.
He did, however, stiffen when she laid multiple items on top of his piano. His protective instincts slowed his fingers, and he lifted his head to see she had pulled from a paper shopping bag a pair of plates, a single cupcake, and a pint of vanilla ice cream with a scoop. The ice cream, Schroeder noted with a flare of indignation, dripped with fat beads of condensation, moistening the painted top of his faithful instrument.
"Ever heard of coasters?!" he demanded, two seconds away from yanking his piano out from under her offending items like a reenactment of the famous tablecloth trick, but the thought of what his mother would say about cupcake and ice cream on the carpet stilled his agitated hands.
Lucy calmly acquiesced to his complaint by fishing out a paper napkin which she had retrieved from the shopping bag. Lifting the pint, she wiped the piano surface, but not before Schroeder saw, with horror, a ring of cold water. He sputtered, frantically rubbing the paint with his index finger to make sure the blemish was not permanent.
"I heard about your AC problem," Lucy sang, placing the carton on the napkin, "so your sweetie brought you ice cream to help you beat the heat."
"No, thank you," Schroeder answered stiffly, his narrowed eyes still scanning for lasting water damage. He would have gladly dealt with a whole summer in sweltering conditions if his piano remained safe.
"Actually, I was going to come anyway," Lucy hummed, pulling out another napkin to fan his drenched face.
"Big surprise," he deadpanned.
"I originally wanted to bring you just this cupcake. It's a special occasion." Lucy batted her eyes. "Can you guess which?"
If it's 'our anniversary' or some other nonsense, then I don't want to hear it, he almost said, but with Lucy, it was better to slip back behind his defense of total silence than to let her bait him.
Satisfied that the paint was safe, Schroeder's hands went back to the keys, and Beethoven's Missa Solemnis, Op. 123 was his only response.
Lucy proved undaunted. She put out a plastic knife and busied herself by cutting the cupcake into halves, laying one on the second plate.
"Can you guess why this mid-June day is special?" she lilted, carefully pulling off the top of the pint. The vanilla ice cream had started to melt, and the scoop dipped into the soft, white mass with ease.
Despite his determination to weather her visit in silence, he spotted an opening to demonstrate his disinterest.
"It's ten days from the anniversary of when Beethoven first performed the Allegretto for Piano Trio to the Brentano family."
To accentuate his snark, he played a few of the opening notes.
Instead of looking miffed at his sarcasm, Lucy brightened.
"Oh, you're close," she beamed. "You're really close. It does involve Beethoven!"
That caught him off guard. He stopped playing, looking up in bewilderment (and a little curiosity). She pushed one half of the cupcake à la mode toward him.
"Can you guess why you get one half of the cupcake while I get the other?" she twinkled.
Schroeder sincerely hoped she would not pull a bait-and-switch by declaring it represented how he was her other half, or that she wanted to reenact the spaghetti scene from Lady and the Tramp with a pastry, or anything else that would turn his stomach. She repeatedly tricked Charlie Brown with that football gag, after all, but on the other hand, she knew how much Beethoven meant to Schroeder. Deciding to test the waters, he tried to remember bits of Beethoven trivia regarding June, but what he knew did not seem to be the stuff which Lucy would have divided a cupcake over.
"I am almost ashamed to say that I don't know," he answered at last.
"Think about it, Schroeder," she hummed. "Half a cupcake. Half."
"I honestly can't imagine what you of all people would think is worthy of celebration."
She slid his plate back toward her, scowling. "If you're going to take that attitude with me, Mister, maybe I won't celebrate Beethoven with you."
"Let's not be too hasty," he answered quickly. For once, Schroeder did not want her to leave his house in a huff. Despite her aggressive pursuit of his affections, Schroeder could reluctantly admit that Lucy was always the first to take his reverence toward Beethoven somewhat seriously, even though she did not fully understand it.
Fortunately, Lucy did not need much to be appeased. A sincere look of interest from Schroeder chased the storm clouds from her face. She pushed the plate back toward him. The ice cream was already soaking the soft yellow cake.
"When was the last time I brought you a cupcake, Schroeder?" she pressed. "A whole one?"
"That's easy," he said, perplexed. "December Sixteenth, Beethoven's birthday."
"And what's today's date?"
He thought it over. "June Sixteenth. …Oh!"
It clicked, and joyful light shone through his mind. It was six months after his favorite holiday, which meant it was—
"Beethoven's HALF-birthday!" he cheered.
"Bingo!" She laid a fork on his plate. "You can be the first boy in the world to celebrate his half-birthday — thanks to your sweetie, I might add."
He had a wild impulse to jump to his feet and hug her, but he restrained himself. Instead, he finally accepted the soggy cupcake and half-melted ice cream. Right then, it was a treat for a king.
"Maybe for this great occasion, I ought to play Beethoven's works halfway through," he mused cheerfully.
Lucy formed a coy smile, leaning against his piano. "And give the girl you love most half a kiss! Or a whole one."
"Don't push it."
THE END