Sentimental Journey

The estate sale, two days away, caused Nikki anxiety whenever she thought about it. Tomorrow, Nikki’s brother and sister would join her at the house to finish organizing and labeling their mothers’ belongings.

Tonight, she was alone.

She walked through the house, trying to imagine it empty. The kitchen without the bar stools or the cross-stitched sign that read, “So this isn’t home sweet home. Adjust.” The upstairs bathroom without the little cluttered shelf holding toiletries from every decade since the 1950s. The living room without the square Oriental rug hiding a scuffed wooden floor.

Nikki crossed the rug to stand in front of the piano — a 1925 Baldwin upright. It had gotten her through middle school and high school without losing her mind. It was the one thing she would miss from this house. An arrangement of Albeniz’s “Tango in D” leaned against the music stand from when she used to play for her mother. The music had soothed Mother, even in the latter part of her dementia, particularly pieces that Nikki had spent hours practicing as a teenager.

She pulled out the old bench, testing its stability first before sitting down. Nikki closed her eyes and placed her fingers lightly on the keys. She winced as she heard the first few notes — the instrument hadn’t been tuned in over a decade.

Nikki continued playing. She recalled the smooth tenor of Alex, her piano teacher from ages eight to eighteen.

“Don’t rush. Play it smooth, like butter. Not so loud there! Yes, like that. Now softer!” He would yell in a heavy Russian accent, occasionally stamping his foot. Alex’s passion had been a nice relief from the cold tension of living with Mother. Nikki had, on occasion, imagined running away to live with Alex, maybe marrying him when she got old enough.

As the tango rhythms gained momentum under Nikki’s fingers, so did her memories.

“Beautiful balance,” Alex said. “Less pedal. Crescendo here.”

“Nikki!” Mother screamed from the laundry room. Nikki stopped playing.

“Yes, Mother?”

“Nikki you come here now!” Nikki gave Alex an apologetic glance and ran downstairs. She hurried down the steps and found her mother holding a piece of blue satin lingerie.

“What’s this?” Nikki’s mother demanded. She held the nightgown by its black lace collar.

She shrugged. “I believe it’s called a teddy.”

“How do you know that?” Mother snapped.

“Common knowledge. Look, it’s not mine, ok?”

The slap of Mother’s cold hand stung Nikki’s cheek. “Don’t get smart. Have you been having sex? You have, haven’t you? Little slut.”

“I’m still having my piano lesson,” Nikki pleaded in a softer voice as she swallowed back the looming tears. She wouldn’t give Mother something else to criticize. “Please don’t let Alex hear you.”

“Why? Are you sleeping with him too?”

Pre-empting further accusations and the sob stuck in her ribcage, Nikki ran out of the laundry room and back upstairs, where Alex sat at the piano bench playing the piece they had been working on.

He looked up and saw her face. “Is something wrong?” her blue-eyed piano teacher asked, his thick dark eyebrows curling with concern.

Despite the moisture on her cheek burning the place where Mother had struck her, Nikki shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you should go. I’ll make sure you get paid for the whole hour.”

“That’s ok,” Alex said. He placed a hand on her shoulder, on top of her bright red curls. Nikki caught her breath. “You can talk to me anytime, if you need to.” Nikki shivered at the contact.

“Thank you. Please go now.”

Nikki no longer remembered what scolding or punishment Mother had doled out after Alex left the house. She did remember that after everyone was long in bed, she had fished the silky teddy out of the laundry trash container. She brushed off the lint and held it in front of her. Then she put it on and went to the piano. Thinking about Alex’s hand on her shoulder made her shiver — not in a bad way. What would it be like to be with him? To kiss him? To make love?

Of course, it was just a fantasy. He was at least ten, maybe fifteen years older. And if something did happen between them, the thought of Mother’s wrath if she ever found out was enough to make Nikki stop daydreaming.

After that night, Alex asked her at every lesson how things were between her and her mother. He insisted she call him if she ever needed to talk, but Nikki just said, “Everything’s fine. She’s just strict.” She knew that her eyes must have given her away when she said it, because he never seemed to believe her.

In her senior year of high school, Alex told her he would help her get a music scholarship at the Boston Conservatory, where he had studied. Nikki knew Mother wouldn’t like it, but she wanted to go. Her siblings had both left already — her brother to college, and her sister to marry her high school sweetheart.

“I don’t want Mother to know, or she won’t let me practice,” Nikki told Alex. “I’ll tell her if I get the scholarship.”

“You have to get away from her,” Alex insisted as they sat outside on the steps of the conservatory after her audition.

“I’ll miss my piano teacher,” Nikki said. She smiled. He smiled back.

“You will be in good hands. And I will visit you,” he said.

“Really? You will?”

“Of course. I will come to all your recitals.”

Nikki looked at the ground. “You’re probably very busy. I understand if you can’t make it to all of them.”

“For you, I can make time,” Alex said. The tenderness in his voice surprised Nikki. She looked up, found his eyes fixed on her, and felt bold. She reached for his hand and placed it on her shoulder the way he had that night their lesson ended early. She held it there and stroked his fingers. Alex pursed his lips.

“You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman,” he whispered. “And you will have a beautiful time at the conservatory. With me, your teacher, supporting you, one hundred percent.” He slowly pulled his hand away from Nikki’s. But he lingered a little longer than he should have. Nikki grabbed it back, pulled it towards her, leaned close, and brushed his lips with hers.

“This is not right. I can’t — you’re still a child.”

“I’m eighteen,” Nikki said. “And you just called me a woman.”

“I have been your teacher since you were eight.”

“And I’ve been in love with you for that long.”

That was the night Nikki finally learned what it felt like to kiss Alex.

When Alex gave Nikki the news that she had been accepted into the conservatory with a full scholarship, he asked her, “Do you want me to be there when you tell your mother?”

She shook her head. “No. That might make it worse.”

“She likes me, though,” Alex said.

“She won’t like you if she thinks you’re the reason I’m leaving.”

Nikki waited for a nice Saturday afternoon. She did all the chores and even cooked dinner for the two of them. At dinner, she took a deep breath and told Mother, “I got a full music scholarship to Boston Conservatory.”

“I see,” Mother said. “And you’re telling me now?”

“Yes,” Nikki said. Her heart beat faster and faster, waiting for the blow-up.

“Well. Maybe you’ll make something out of yourself after all.”

Nikki couldn’t believe her luck. It was only on the morning before she left that Mother said anything else about it. “You’re my baby,” she’d said. “Don’t leave me all alone. I’ll waste away.” Nikki promised she would visit every holiday and be home in the summer.

Alex kept his promise about visiting her. He came to every recital, even the short ones where she only played one piece. They made love for the first time in her college dorm one warm spring weekend. She wore the blue teddy that she had rescued from the trash.

Nikki tried to hide the relationship from her mother. It was easy to keep a secret when she was hours away from home. But she knew Mother’s need to control every situation and Nikki’s eagerness to please would bring the truth out eventually.

On Nikki’s first holiday visit home, Mother said, “You should invite Alex over. I’m sure he would love to hear what you’ve been working on.”

“Isn’t he out of town?” Nikki tried to suggest.

“I saw him in town yesterday. He asked about you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Nichole, invite him,” Mother said in her very Mother voice. The one that dared anyone to contradict her.

So she called. He came. And Mother, ever watchful and suspicious, sensed something askew. After Alex left, she asked her daughter, “How long have you been sleeping with him? Did you do it in my house?”

“I haven’t slept with him.”

“I’m still your mother and you can’t lie to me. I saw the way he was looking at you. And how you looked at him. Made me sick. I don’t want him here again.”

“Mother, I love him.”

“Get out.”

After another two years, it became evident that the relationship wasn’t going to end, and Mother had become lonely. “Why don’t you visit me anymore? Bring Alex. Your brother and sister are coming in for Thanksgiving. We can have a big family dinner for once.”

Despite Alex’s protests, they went.

“She’s a terrible human,” he said. “And what will we tell her about this?” He touched the diamond ring on Nikki’s left hand. “Do you think she’ll sabotage the wedding?”

“Yes,” Nikki said. “That’s why I want to elope.”

Her fiancé’s mouth slowly formed the broad, genuine smile she loved. “If you want, we’ll elope tomorrow.”

They played the Schubert Fantasie in F for four hands for a rapt audience of siblings, nieces, nephews, and Mother. They told the family about their plans for a concert tour together after Nikki graduated.

“Just don’t get pregnant,” Mother said. “It’ll ruin your career. Having kids ruined my life. Maybe not all of them, but definitely with my second husband. I might still be with your father if it hadn’t been for you,” she said, looking straight at Nikki.

The family gathering that Nikki most wanted to forget came ten years later. She and Alex were visiting for a few days over the summer. She had been cooking spaghetti when she heard her mother’s familiar shrill from the laundry room.

“Nikki! Come here. Now!”

Nikki turned down the pasta water so it wouldn’t boil over before she went to see what Mother needed. As soon as she entered the laundry room, the blue satin negligee from her past was being shoved in her face.

“What the hell is this?” Mother screamed. “I found it in the dryer. Little slut! I knew you were having sex, I just didn’t know who you were doing it with. Do you even have a boyfriend? Or are you screwing that piano teacher of yours?”

“What are you talking about, Mother? Alex and I are married. And what I wear to bed is no longer any of your business.” Nikki snatched the nightgown out of her mother’s grasp.

Mother scoffed. “In your dreams. He’s too old to want you. You’re just a plaything to him. And how dare you talk to me like that! Go to your room.”

Nikki stood frozen in place, unsure what to do or say. Alex stood in the hallway and asked if everything was all right.

“Who is that?” Mother asked.

“Alex,” Nikki replied.

“Oh. Are you having a piano lesson today?”

Nikki’s heart sped up. She considered her answer for a moment. Would it be a good idea to try to correct her now? “Yes, Mother,” she said at last. “But I will tell him it’s time to go home.”

Later, at dinner, Mother returned to the present, as if nothing unusual had taken place. She said to Alex, “You’re the best thing that happened to Nikki. You saved her from a lifetime of bad decisions.” Nikki rubbed her cheek. The words stung worse than any slap could have.

Alex tried to help the situation. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said. He patted his wife’s hand. “Nikki can make good decisions all on her own.” Nikki smiled at her husband with gratitude, hoping the tears welling in her eyes would stay contained.

Mother snorted. “One thing I can say about her, is she can cook. But maybe next time don’t cook the noodles so long. They’re too mushy.”

Just when Nikki had decided it was enough, Mother came into the bedroom where she was packing her suitcase.

“Are you leaving already? You just got here.” Mother frowned. She held out her arms.

“Come here.” Nikki complied. Her mother rarely gave away hugs.

“You’re my baby,” she said. “And I love you. I need you.”

Nikki gasped as her fingers slipped off the keys on a difficult rhythm. Why did I keep going back? She asked herself. Was I that desperate for her love?

She had lost Alex to a heart attack three years ago. By then, Mother’s dementia had become much worse. Nobody wanted to put her in a nursing home, nor could they afford to. Instead, Nikki moved back home. Some days were perfect, and others just another replay of old wounds.

At the funeral, everyone gave their condolences to the family, but Nikki especially.

“How sad you must be,” the family friends said. “You two were always so close.” Secretly, Nikki relished in the realization that now she might finally be afforded some freedom.

Even though tonight Nikki was more alone than ever, her memories crowded out the music. As she played the Tango, each instance of pain inflicted by her mother surfaced, and it became more and more difficult to keep from crying. Finally, she just let it flow. The tears fell from her eyes, cleansing her heart, dropping on the keys and her fingers, blurring her vision. The negligee, which still fit her slender frame after so many years, slipped down her left shoulder.

Nikki stopped playing.

She ripped the nightgown at the collar in a burst of frustration. “I hate you!” she screamed. “I love you, but I hate you, Mother!” She closed the lid to the piano and leaned head into her hands. She was aware of the rough grain of the chipped wood pressing hard into her elbows, but she tolerated the pain as she heaved and sobbed.

After she finished, she opened the lid back up, put the Tango on top of the piano, and started playing a Beethoven sonata she knew by heart. The sonata that she played at her audition.

The front door of the house creaked open.

“Hey Nik,” came the voice of her sister Joy. “I know I said I was coming tomorrow, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of you here all by yourself.”

Nikki turned around. She hoped her face didn’t look too puffy. But all her sister said was, “I used to have a nightgown like that when I was in high school. I was so worried Mother would find it and interrogate me. But she never said anything, so I guess someone just found it and put it in the trash.”

Nikki swallowed. “She did find it. She thought it was mine.”

“Well,” Joy said. “Wait — is that actually my nightgown?” A smirk slid across her face. “Wow. So she — and then you — well. You little slut.”