– You'll get used to it, rookie. Now put your right hand right here, pluck with your index finger.
For the first time strings sang under my hand, even though it sounded as if a kindergartener decided to touch a harp.
He felt my fear with his insides again.
– Why so unsure? Let me show you how you do it.
He stole the instrument right from under my jaw and reflected my actions like a false mirror, swinging slightly and plucking one string at a time like a fool. I didn't pay too much attention to this mockery; then it seemed very just. I understood I was very narrow in this industry and I needed to see what I did wrong.
– Put it on the table, Kamnev.
Iosif gave me a pencil.
– Iosif Seraphimovich, what's that for?
I shouldn't have opened my mouth.
– Is everyone in your family as stupid as you?! – His face got filled with blood and cooled down as quick as it got hot. He stared into the floor and went silent for a few seconds, then exhaled calmly, – first you learn it on a pencil. This is an important step, Kamnev.
I grabbed the writing instrument.
– Here you put your thumb, your middle and ring finger here, you feel the weight with your pinky. – I obeyed. – Do you feel how heavy it is?
– I do, Iosif Seraphimovich.
I felt nothing.
Someone knocked at the door.
– Come in! – Iosif yelled cheerfully.
An angel came to us from the heavens. From the first glance I could say she was about fifteen. A light dress, rusty hair gathered into a ponytail, a pretty-looking hard case.
The teacher tapped on his little apprentice's shoulder and took a couple of sheets from underneath a pile of books.
– Hello, Iosif Seraphimovich. – She smiled.
– Hello. Would you like to play this today? It's just for your level.
While observing this gentle scene, I cursed myself inside and tried to give my pinky strength just to feel the weight of the pencil.
– Iosif Seraphimovich… Why is such a grown person learning to play?
He turned around to look at me.
– Don't worry, he isn't here for long.
I felt chills on my back. Iosif laughed again, then coughed and turned his eyes away. While he popped his knuckles in awkwardness, I noticed that they shivered frequently. How could I forget about his hands?
The heavenly creature opened her oblong box, and I heard magical double sounds again. Iosif put the sheets on a weird stand and let his apprentice make a beautiful song flow. Inside I moaned, dying; I knew I'd never play like this. I thought about just one thing – they're blessed, the children who wake up to copy scales.