When I got up Monday morning, I was feeling extremely nervous about my recital appearance. It was actually bad enough that I had decided to skip my morning classes and just relax until time to be at the hall. Unfortunately it seemed that my plan wasn’t helping because by the time I had to get ready and head for the performing arts center, I had worked myself into a frenzy of nerves that made sure I couldn’t even keep anything in my stomach.

It was during one of these waves of nausea that Cindy got back from her morning classes and came by to check on me. I was just coming out of the bathroom as she let herself into my apartment, took one look at me, and came running to my side. She held me for a few minutes, neither of us saying a word until I managed to pull myself together and finally told her, “Thanks.”

“No need, but I’m curious. Why so nervous? I mean, you know this piece backward, forward, upside down, and inside out,” she said trying to ease the tension with a little humor.

I looked her in the eye, took a deep breath, and finally responded, “I’ve always had problems with my nerves before a performance. And this time it’s worse.”

Confused, she asked, “Why is it worse this time?”

“Because I’m wearing a bra.”

“Oh, that!” she grinned. I wasn’t sure I understood what she was grinning about. She then continued, “I promise you’ll be fine. Heck, if anyone did say anything about the bra, just tell them that I asked you to wear it. Tell them it turns me on. It’ll probably make them jealous because you have a girlfriend and they don’t!”

She then gave me a kiss, and my nerves settled a bit. Maybe I’d make it through today performance after all. Another hug and kiss and I was almost normal. Well, as normal as I could be standing there wearing a bra and panties under my suit anyway.

Around 11:30 we left for the performing arts center arriving with over twenty minutes to kill before the start of the recital. I looked at the program and found that I was last one on. While in some ways that news should have eased my nerves…the last performer generally has the easiest time with the audience because while they’re more alert than they are for those in the middle of the program they also tend to be less critical…it only seemed to compound things for me.

Playing last meant I had that much more time to stew and fret about every little thing that could possibly go wrong. Instead of sitting out front Cindy stayed with me backstage and tried as much as she could to help me calm down. Since we couldn’t really carry on much of a conversation while standing right behind the curtain, she was holding my hand, stroking my arm, staring into my eyes, and doing pretty much anything else she could think of to take my mind off my impending performance.

About 12:30 it was my turn to go on. I looked at Cindy one more time and kissed her before heading onto stage. Unlike last time, I didn’t seem to have any trouble remaining cognizant of where I was and what I was doing. I was however just distracted enough by my bra straps rubbing on my shoulders that I was able to just play instead of thinking too much.

So what did that mean? Mainly that again I couldn’t really recall too many of the minute details of the performance, although I was at least conscious enough to know that I was giving a soulful performance.

I was stunned by the intensity of the crowd’s response after I played the final notes. Usually these recitals had moderate attendance with little or no acknowledgement at the end. This however was different. Yes, there were quite a few who were gathering their stuff and heading toward the exits, but for each of them there appeared to be someone offering up applause with more fervor than I was used to in that type of setting.

The resulting buzz I felt ensured that any doubts I might have still harbored concerning whether this whole androgyny thing was working or not melted away as I thought back on the performance and compared what I could remember of it against some of my less androgynous practice run thrus. When I was once again backstage Cindy jumped into my arms and gave me a big kiss.

Dr. Caroll came up as we broke that kiss and said, “Kyle! Outstanding performance! I’ll have the recording for us to review later, but I can tell you right now that whatever you’re doing, you need to continue doing it. You’re quickly becoming one of the best students I’ve ever had.” She shook my hand and nodded to Cindy before moving on to some of the other performers so she could touch base with them as well.

On our way to the student union cafeteria to grab a late lunch, Cindy held onto my arm tight and said, “That was brilliant! I can’t imagine anyone ever playing that better!”

“I thank you, but somehow I think you may be biased.”

“Doesn’t matter. You will one day be a star.”

“I hope you’re right,” I said as we entered the cafeteria and proceeded to pick out our lunch.

Later that afternoon as I sat in Dr. Caroll’s office listening to the recording, I must admit I was taken aback by how much better I had sounded than even my memory of the performance. She was surprisingly quiet as we listened. After all, I was expecting her to tear the performance apart over every little mistake I had noticed, as well as probably another twenty or so that I missed as we listened. Instead, when the recording ended, she sat there for a moment still not saying anything, making me even more nervous than I had been just before the recital.

When she did finally speak, she surprised me even further by saying, “Keep working on everything we’ve done so far, as well as whatever we do the rest of the semester. I think instead of the standard jury you should opt instead to do a term ending recital. Very few freshman are up to this challenge, but I think you are and I’d hate to see you take the easy route when this would be so much better for you as a performer.”

I sat there for a second allowing that tidbit to sink in before responding, “So, you want me to continue polishing the Mazurkas and the sonata?”

“As well as the Opus 10 etudes, plus the other concert pieces we do the rest of the term.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” I said, not realizing I actually did so out loud.

“It is. Think you’re up to it?”

I thought about that question for a whole millisecond before saying, “Yes.”

She smiled broadly and clapped her hands together as she said, “Good! Now let’s get to work. Next on our agenda are the Chopin opus 10 concert etudes. How many of them have you worked on so far?”

“Well, obviously the first three as well as spending a little time on all of them.”

“All right, that’s your next recital assignment. The complete opus 10.”

I looked at her with a bit of a stunned look on my face for a moment before finally saying, “Okay.”

I dug out my copy of the etudes and opened up the book, setting it on the music stand. I breezed through the first three, as would be expected since I’d been working on them previously, then started hammering my way through the rest of the set. As I paused between the eleventh and twelfth etudes, Dr. Caroll stopped me, “It would appear our time is up for today. Nice work! Now for Thursday, work on the etudes and continue going over the Mazurkas and the Rachmaninov.”

I was then ushered out of her office to make way for the next victim. Cindy surprised me by standing in the hallway waiting for me. “What’re you doing here?” I asked.

“Just thought we could spend a little time together,” she said as she looped her arm through mine and walked with me down the hall.

“We doing yoga tonight?”

“Well, it is Monday,” she replied.

From there my week consisted of classes, practice, and a little bit of sleep, not necessarily in that order. Cindy and I spent our nights together, because that was about the only way we could spend time with each other at all.

Friday arrived and that meant my folks were coming into town. I jumped out of bed a lot earlier than I normally would on a Friday since I didn’t even have a class before ten and started running around my apartment haphazardly cleaning, as if my last minute efforts could possibly make a bit of difference in the condition of the place. Cindy watched me for a while, barely containing her laughter, until I looked over at her and said, “In case you forgot, my folks are coming in today.”

The look of sudden comprehension came over her and her laughter transformed into a look of concern. It’s not that she was concerned about what my folks would think of our housekeeping skills, but rather she was worried what they were going to think of her.

A few minutes before ten she asked, “Don’t you have a class to get to?”

Looking at the clock, I suddenly panicked for a totally different reason than the one that had tormented me all morning. I took a quick peek at my clothes and hair, then after grabbing my backpack and kissing Cindy goodbye I ran out the door heading for my class, which I just barely managed to make before the professor closed the door to begin his lecture.

On my return home I discovered that Cindy had taken the opportunity to properly clean my apartment and was at that moment seated on the sofa chatting awkwardly with my mom and dad. When she saw me standing there she stopped in mid-sentence, jumped to her feet, and ran over to me where she wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a mighty kiss. To say I was enthralled and embarrassed only begins to cover the range of emotions I was feeling.

“Hi mom…dad,” I said as she released me.

As they sat there with bemused looks on their faces, Cindy said, “We’ve been talking about you. It seems there is a huge collection of incriminating photos that I need to see.”

It took me a second to figure out what she meant, during which time I’m sure I turned shades of red that had never before been seen. Once I’d managed to return to a more normal skin tone I said, “I thought you weren’t coming in until late this afternoon.”

My dad was the first to respond, “Your mother was anxious to see her baby, so we left home early.”

“Oh, John,” mom admonished.

“I’m supposed to attend a recital in just a bit. Do you want to tag along, or would you rather just hang out here?”

“We’ll come along, if you don’t mind,” dad said after a moment’s thought.

So it was that the four of us sat in the recital hall listening to some of my fellow students play major works for the piano with varying degrees of success, followed by a meeting with Dr. Caroll where I introduced her to mom and dad.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” my dad said as he extended his hand to my teacher.

“The pleasure’s all mine, I assure you. Had I known you were coming into town I would have juggled the schedule so you could hear your son perform. He’s fast becoming one of the top pianists in this school.”

“We’ve always believed in Kyle’s talent a great deal, and think he’s destined for stardom.”

“You may be right about that, Mr. Bronson. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have some students who I need to chat with about their performances today.” Dr. Caroll then left us standing there in the lobby.

“Anyone hungry?” dad asked.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

“Wonderful. What say we go out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Cindy jumped in.

We climbed into my folk’s rental car and drove to a nice restaurant, where we enjoyed a lovely meal, the likes of which Cindy and I had not experienced since we started school. We then spent the remainder of the day and well into the evening back at my apartment, where my mother continued telling Cindy embarrassing anecdotes about my childhood.

While I should have known that such a thing was an inevitable turn of events, I was nonetheless mortified that this girl whom I’d become so attached to so quickly was being introduced to aspects of my earlier life which I’d probably just as soon forget as have someone find out about.

The stories and their associated embarrassment continued well into the night, not coming to a halt until well after midnight when my parents announced their intention to “borrow” my bed for the night, forcing me to either sleep on the couch or go next door with Cindy.

My dilemma was solved when Cindy gave me a heavenly kiss saying, “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

While I would miss sleeping next to her, I knew she probably had the right idea. We were still more or less kids and to do anything else with my parents in the same apartment would probably be too brazen. So I plopped down on the sofa, curled up, and was asleep in mere seconds. It might not have been the most restful sleep I’d had in a while, but it was shuteye, nonetheless.

I was awakened Saturday morning by the sound of my mom searching my kitchen cabinets for coffee. By the time she found it and had a pot started I was awake enough to talk to her and she decided to take advantage of that.

“So how did you meet this Cindy anyway?” was her first question.

“We met down in the lobby the first week of classes. I was surprised when I found out she’s in the apartment next door.”

“She seems like a nice enough girl.”

“I’m becoming very attached to her.”

“Do you love her?”

“I think so.”

“You think?”

“Well, I don’t really have a lot to compare it to, do I? But yeah, I think I love her.”

“That’s good to know, since she’s keeping underwear in your dresser and all.”

I was afraid for a moment that I turned white as a sheet before recovering. “Yeah, well…” I really wasn’t up to explaining that most of the lingerie in that drawer was actually mine.

“Hey, I’m not a prude,” she said, trying to ease my uneasiness. “I know you’re growing up, and having grown up relationships is part of that. Just be careful, okay? I’m not quite ready to be a grandma yet.”

Much of the weekend was spent with the four of us together shopping and doing tourist type things. By the time my parents headed back home Sunday evening I was glad they were leaving. It wasn’t that I disliked spending time with them, but rather that I’d not been able to sleep well with them there and I wasn’t sure if it was because I was sleeping on the couch or because I was trying to sleep without Cindy. Either way, I was glad things would be returning to ‘normal’.

After they had gone Cindy said, “Your mom and dad are nice.”

“Well, what did you expect? They did raise me after all,” I tried to joke.

“I think your mom knows.”

“Knows what?”

“About the panties.”

“She told me she thought they were yours.”

“Yes, but that was before she went snooping in your hamper and found yours and mine, but no men’s shorts. She didn’t say anything, but every once in a while she’d look at me kind of funny.”

“Oh,” I said, quickly descending into a semi-catatonic state.

“Yeah, ‘Oh’.”

Chopin 4 Mazurkas, Opus 41
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-1-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-2-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-3-breeme...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-41-4-breeme...

Sergei Rachmaninov, 2nd Sonata in Bb minor
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-1-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-2-g...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/rachmaninov-36-3-g...

Frederic Chopin Concert Etudes, Opus 10
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-1-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-2-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-3-grant.mp3
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-4-sinadi...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-5-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-6-stahlb...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-9-kingma...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-11-levin...
http://server3.pianosociety.com/protected/chopin-10-12-kingm...

Notes: