Lena
Lena was raised on violin lessons and minimal parental supervision. Her last three teachers lasted three weeks because she wanted to play Bowie in addition to Mozart’s concertos. By the time she was sixteen, Lena’s skills surpassed her fourth teacher, Mr. Franz. He was amused by her ferality and didn’t care about the lack of professional courtesy as long as her technique was top-notch. With tattoos running down her right arm, Lena seemed to never want a serious symphony career. Two years into their very low-key lessons, Lena confessed her attraction to the much older gentleman.
“I’m 18, tomorrow. Legal. I’ve seen the look in your eyes, Mr. Franz.”
“What are you suggesting, Ms. Ovid?”
“A celebration, a feast, a fuck.”
Franz scanned the young woman’s face, looking for a smile, a laugh, as if what she said was a joke. I’m 60, he thought. Why me?
“You flatter me, Ms. Ovid, but there’s plenty of boys who will be your birthday date.”
“Maybe, but you must escort me into womanhood. And I demand you call me Lena.”
She turned around abruptly, gazing at the rain from her second-floor bedroom window.
“You’ll forever be connected to my body and soul. That is what I want,” she said, and spun back around, locking eyes with the stunned instructor. “We must seal the deal.”
_________________________________________
Lena’s mother, Dr. Megan Ovid, has organized a recital/birthday party. The next day, a dozen people show up in her large ornate living room. Skylights and sliding doors keep the room well-lit while yesterday’s showers continue with less force. The grayish light is flattering for the guests. Lena’s older sister, Venus, sits at the Steinway and tickles its keys. She’s not a prodigy but worked hard and became competent. Lena said she envied her natural talent. It was real and divisive.
Mr. Franz holds a glass of Cabernet and watches Venus until her mother interrupts. She whispers in Venus’ ear and Happy Birthday’s notes fill the air. The group of friends, consisting of editors, writers, and professors watch Lena descend the staircase wearing a pink strapless dress with white Converse. Her tattoos, which are usually covered at recitals, are on complete display today. She smiles at her admirers until she finds Franz and focuses on him.
Lena takes a glass of red wine from a silver tray and clinks the glass against her instructor’s. The guests perceive this as a friendly acknowledgment of their professional relationship. Lena knows this is a blood vow. She swallows the alcohol and stands by her sister. Her mother cautiously waits for the chosen composition. Will my youngest embarrass me or herself, Dr. Ovid wonders.
Lena takes up her violin, nods to Venus, and the pair perform Schumann’s Concerto in D Minor perfectly. The sisters are in sync and much feeling is infused into the piece. The room fills with applause. Even Mr. Franz is impressed by the women’s virtuosity; he’s suddenly entranced by Lena’s sophistication, and is now drawn to her without hesitation. He looks around the room and wonders what kind of wrath he’ll draw should he act on his impulses.
Lena continues her mini-recital with good humor, stopping between pieces to sip wine and chat with guests. She’s treating classical music like rock ‘n roll and has the crowd in the palm of her hand. After the difficult concerto, she plays Mozart to lighten the room. Franz is focusing on her snake tattoo and the way it slithers as Lena slides her violin bow. She turns slightly allowing some in the audience to see the snake’s forked tongue touching her shoulder. Mr. Franz just sighs at the conclusion of the piece.
As Lena begins Ozawa’s Oblivion, scenarios fill Franz’s mind. Will he be seen as Humbert even though she’s far from Lolita? Still, Dr. Ovid could make his life hell if he were to act on his newly formed impulses. Luckily, the lessons are over and he’ll no longer venture into his student’s bedroom for professional instruction. He wonders if she’ll pursue him when he’s no longer needed. Will the next professor fill her needs?
Franz focuses on Venus now. She’s older by six years and seems to him more refined. Whereas Lena plays with fire, Venus lets the piece play itself. She’s the stars, the wind, content to wander where the notes lead. Franz wants to teach her, and to learn. This will make him a better teacher. Will Lena understand or be threatened?
“Mr. Franz. You’ve certainly done a fine job.”
Joyce Abbot, a former colleague, startles him. She speaks close to his ear as the music continues. Dr. Abbot forced him from the conservatory for using unconventional teaching methods, but knows he was the best instructor.
“Bartelby was a better place with you there. If only you hadn’t fucked Julie.”
Julie Rich was the star pupil who became infatuated with Franz a decade ago. She attempted suicide when he wouldn’t commit to a monogamous relationship. The entire staff crashed down on Franz, effectively ending his professional career. Freelance suits him though, and he’s thrived away from the structured institution.
“It was glorious, Joyce, and worth every minor humiliation.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t arrested.”
“She was eighteen.”
“Seventeen at trial,” Joyce whispers loudly above a soft passage of music. She’s still upset and holding on to consequences that might have been. “You’re a monster.”
Franz watches her walk to the bar for another glass of wine. Lena and Venus finish the piece and the room bursts into applause. It really was a spectacular performance. The spectators must wonder where they found the inspiration or inherited the talent. Dr. Ovid walks over to her children’s teacher.
“How did they do that? Talent takes you only so far. You must have given them some magic.”
Franz is grinning like a Cheshire cat, looking at both of the doctor’s daughters. He’s a fox in a hen house, evading Mother Goose to get to her goslings.
“My my, my dear. You gave them the magic. I just waved the wand.”
