The Right Key

Ed was dizzy.  Fuzzy.  Insulated as if his whole body was sitting in cotton.  His head felt like a stone hanging from his neck.  Beyond the circle of light he could see nothing.


“What’s happening?”


He remembered going to lunch with Cedric in the afternoon.  Cedric was his gay brother.


“I want you to meet Sam,” Cedric said as they munched on stir-fry at Penang’s terrace in Soho.  Is was October, and New York was resplendent in her autumn colors



“Who’s Sam?”


“A friend.  One of my gay friends.  Absolutely, the greatest pianist I have ever heard.  Makes Horowitz sound like a beginner.”


“How would you know?  When did you become like an expert on pianists?  If you heard a recording on Horowitz and this Sam, could you tell them apart?”


“Yes.  There is a sound, almost like a fingerprint.  Mozart is like that.  Play twenty different composers and Mozart will stand out because of a sound.  A Mozart sound.  Unlike any other.  Sam’s that way.”


“How was I so lucky to get a fag brother?”


Cedric bit into an egg roll and looked at his brother with disdain.  “God has his plans,” he said.


After lunch Cedric led Ed north to Houston Street.


“He lives on the fourth floor,” Cedric said after they reached an imposing high rise.  “Unfortunately, it’s a walk-up.”


“Great,” Ed said.  “And, why am I doing this?”


“Because you fag brother asked you and you want to hear some fantastic piano music.”


“Two very vague reasons.  I just think I’m crazy.”


The apartment building smelled of dust, but the higher they got, the smell abated.  Cedric knocked on door eight.  A very tall, thin, almost emaciated man opened the door.


“Ah, Cedric,” he said in a whisper.  “You’re right on time.”  He was bald, and had no visible hair on his face, eyebrows or eyelashes.  Dressed in a dark red kimono with a deep black sash, he wore white tabi socks.


“Sam, this is my brother, Ed.”


“Ed.  A pleasure,” Sam said and opened the door wider.


Ed could see that the apartment was dark inside and an odor like an unwashed body floated out.  Stepping through the door Ed saw only a concert grand piano and three chairs.


“I play,” Sam said.  “I order take out for food.  Please, come in.”


It looked like a stage set to Ed.  A pin light hanging from the ceiling cast a circle of light onto the piano bench.  Three folding chairs faced the piano, and as far as Ed could see, nothing else was in the apartment.  The rest of the room was in dim shadows that melted into pitch black.  Drifting also in the air was the distinct smell of cannabis.


“Uh, Sam,” Ed said.  “Where do you sleep?”


“At the piano when I feel tired.  I don’t sleep much.”


“Sam is obsessive,” Cedric said as he closed the door.  “Playing piano is his life.  His only life.


“Sit down,” Sam said.  “Let’s smoke a bowl.”


Ed did not use marijuana.  He drank too much, but pot had never attracted him mainly because it was inhaled.  For several years he smoked cigarettes but always thought it was stupid.  He quit, one morning about three o’clock.  Just threw a full pack away and never looked back.  He’d always been astonished at himself for doing it.


“Far out,” Cedric said as Sam disappeared into the blackness.  “You always have the best grass in the country.”  Cedric flopped in one of the folding chairs and looked back at Ed.


“Great,” Ed said.  “What’s better’n a bowl on a sunny afternoon?”


Sam appeared in the spotlight with a huge meerschaum pipe.


“It’s big, man, just for parties,” Sam said as he lit the pipe and inhaled deeply.  “Drink to the future.”  He passed the pipe to Cedric and sat in a folding chair next to Ed, who knew he was gay, but gay people had never made advances to him, and he figured Cedric had told him he was straight.


Cedric drew an enormous drag and passed the pipe to Ed who took a drag.

                                                                    ###


“Oh, sweet Jesus,” Ed whispered to himself.  Trying to see beyond the circle of light, he realized he was sitting at a piano  “Sam’s piano?”  Then he thought: Why am I at Sam’s piano and where are Sam and Cedric?


Then, he remembered the meerschaum.  “Dear, God, what was in that?”
 

He struggled to his feet, very woozy.  He found a wall and started moving along it to find a light switch or a door.  He felt along and found a door.  Pushing and pulling on the knob he yelled, “Help me.  Let me out.”  Nothing.  No sound, the door didn’t give.


“How the hell do I get out of here?”  He glanced back at the piano.  “That’s it.”  He walked back to the piano and the circle of light.  “All I have to do is find the right key.”