What’s the Limit?
29 Nov. 2022
23:02
I always enjoy the hum of voices in a crowded venue. It tickles the ears with a low pur, yet it keeps you alert with occasional jumps in volume. It certainly keeps things lively here, that’s for sure. I don’t know what I would do without this atmosphere. Heck, I kind of need it since I play the piano. I don’t play very well, but I get by all right and I am often helped by the (mostly) indifferent patrons of this fine establishment. They have all that they need, the piano be damned. Good borscht and good company. Now that is good living.
The piano keys are both warm and worn as I play out a series of chords. Like I said before, I don’t play very well, and the concept of dynamics eludes me some days. Occasionally, a patron or two might shoot me a puzzled look, but a moment later their eyes are turned back to where they were looking before. Believe me, it used to be much worse. I have the chords to thank for getting me out of those messes, but I’m not sure the piano appreciates it as much. Worn keys and not much variety leaves her a tad downtrodden. I hope that she knows I’m grateful for her all things considered. Armchair critics with borscht in their mouths were the least of my problems. I lost a pretty lucrative gig, and with a daughter to raise on top of it, I was fortunate enough that this piano took pity on my “situation” of sorts. Every bottle of grape juice I own, I drink to her.
Tonight remains like any other. A group of old-timers at the bar sharing stories of good times; a few here with friends murmuring about their weeks; and the couple going out for a first date. It brings a smile to my face; their conversations keep the environment relaxed and lively at the same time. Surely, it saves me the trouble of having to compensate for everyone else! I continue to play my piano, the keys mixing softly and gently with the ringing of voices both vibrant and melancholy. Smiles can be detected for those most observant, but I can’t say I’m one of those types. My mind is either on the piano or something else or another.
30 Nov. 2022
01:59
The club is quiet now, with only the footsteps of patrons littering the room with sound. As soon as everyone exits, I take my leave; usually the other staff members take care of any final housekeeping measures. I say my own goodbyes, waving as I exit the establishment. Turning my head to the street, a few lights are on, but one flickers ever so slightly. It wouldn't be an unusual sight if it weren’t for the man sitting underneath it. His back is turned to me; his gaze seemingly stoic, almost transparent. I don’t do it much these days, but once upon a time, I could read people like a book. It was something I did all the time back then. With my curiosity now piqued, I make my way toward the man and sit a couple of feet away.
“Hey, what’s on your mind?” I wave almost stiffly to the man. The man turned his head to face mine, eyes as lost as the wind. He looked at me for a few seconds as if assessing a threat before turning his attention back to where it was just moments ago.
“N-nothing, really,” the man murmurs. He continues to gaze forward. After a moment or two of silent reflection, I craft a slapdash response.
“Nothing, huh? Hard to call it nothing when we’re sitting on the sidewalk past 2AM.” A laugh escapes through my teeth. I suppose I developed a bad habit of laughing aloofly at things. Ultimately, the man turns back to me, likely puzzled by the laughter. With a more sincere eye, he makes eye contact with me.
“I-is that so?” the man chuckles lightly. “...d-do you think there’s more to life than this…?” I recoil slightly, but breathe out a sigh.
“What do you mean?” I inquire.
“Well, like, um…” the man takes a few moments to respond. Both of us begin tapping our feet. “You see, I just got through a bad breakup, had trouble holding down a job and things just went south, one right after another. Couldn’t feel lower, to be honest!” The man coughs out a chuckle, but there is a gleam of sorrow in his eyes.
“Aah, yeah, I see,” I say. “Life has a way of throwing up foul balls sometimes. We either hit one and live another day, or we strike out.” My eyes look down. I’m kind of embarrassed by the comment. I didn’t intend for it to sound profound. Fortunately, the man didn’t seem to bat an eye.
“Huh,” he remarks. “So you’re a baseball guy?”
“Hardly,” I retort quickly. “I’m a piano man myself.” This time, he is much quicker to respond to me.
“Yes, I heard you. You’re not very good, are you?” he teases. I am definitely caught off-guard, but it’s sobering to hear someone else say it aside from me.
“Ah, so you noticed,” I laugh more heartily than before. “Guilty as charged, I suppose.” The last few words begin to sting me somehow. I can’t quite put my finger on it. “You know, piano was never my first option. A few short years ago, I was involved in a more noble profession, or at least some might call it that. Poor judgment on my end led to that opportunity being shelved among other things. So, to answer your question, I would say no. There isn’t necessarily more to life than what we’ve got. Sometimes, we just have to use the hand we’re dealt.”
Those words also begin to sting me, but fortunately enough, the man has been listening intently to have a response at the ready. I would like to say that I too was all ears, but my mind has other plans. Half-listening and half-pondering, I attempt to listen to the man’s words.
“...they used to tell me when I was a kid that the sky’s the limit. That we could do anything if we were set on accomplishing our goals. It seemed so true back then, but now, it’s almost as if the sky is looming over us and closing the doors we want to open.” The man looks up as he speaks, and then turns his attention back to me. “I want to feel that sense of endless possibility again. Even if I can’t have my life back, I want to be able to build something. Something that will at least stand for a little.” After rattling out his last statement, the man fell silent and turned himself back to the apartments across the street from him.
“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like the sky is cruel!” I smile. “You’re right. Some doors close that can never be opened. I don’t know if I can ever go back to do what I did, but there is some joy in a new start. I may not be good at the piano, but I try to do right by my kid, and I think that she appreciates that. So perhaps we both have been looking at this all wrong. We’re the kind of guys who have our heads in the sky hunting for some ideal when the real possibilities are right in front of us.” I watch the man shift his weight back and forth as if letting out some nervous energy, but he does not say anything to me. We both watch the sky, stars of silver and gold eyeing us equally. I then look over at the man and stand up.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for,” I nod. He then turns to me and nods back. I wave back to him with a slight accompanying nod, and leave him alone.
Walking home, with the early morning breeze caressing my face, I can’t help but be happy. It is a route I take every day, but even though the dark still dominates the sky, it feels as if the light is merrily waiting for an opportunity to shine. Day and night, the sky’s two performances, are daily viewings for all of us. We can’t move past it, but we can live in it as the performers look upon us. When I finally reach the door, I can only think about one thing.
I hope that her magic practice didn’t make the place too messy.
