At assembly one day, Mrs Hanlon, our Elementary headteacher, announced there would be a new violin lunchtime club: girls and boys welcome. Here was my chance to get away from the playground where mocking my name was music to many ears. I needed new sounds other than people laughing at the fun made out of ‘Friday’.
I was attracted by the violin’s elegant body, the horse-hair bow, the curl of the head like the prow of a Homeric ship. A new destiny was awaiting this young Odysseus. That lunch time I went in search of the club and found just girls, staring at me, the only boy. I wondered if it was the wrong door. Nope, right door and no boys - none so brave or bullied. Too late to turn this ship around, I was beckoned in the divinely smiling violin teacher. She gifted me a second hand, chipped violin with the prophecy: take good care of it or you’re out. Raised eyebrow from Miss and every acolyte girl striking the same smirking chord. At home, in my bedroom, my first attempts to play sliced the air. My cringing parents closed my door, and then all the other doors. I tried for a whole weekend, the stained wood a growth under my chin. No growth in ability, just synthetic strings screeching. Then disaster: my yapping brother tumbled into my room, panting about playing outside. My semi-Cerebus relative fell and sat on the violin. In my memory a tragic epic: a crushed caldera of wood, bridge stuck out like a broken tooth, strings twanged open like sprung ribs. In reality there was a small crack, maybe a broken string, but I had to hand it back to the Oracle on Monday. I mumbled apologies, head hung in shame at my failed adventure as Miss glared at me with her cyclopean disappointment. The young sirens giggled - what do you expect from a boy? Medusa gave an orchestral sigh and ordered me to leave. I scuttled away before I turned to stone. Whenever I see someone playing the violin, I wonder if that could have been me, if I had been a little braver or quicker.
1 Comment
Joanna Studdert-Kennedy
8/25/2019 11:33:04 am
What a lovely piece of writing. Very clever how you have woven the musical analogies in.
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AuthorA poetic-essay style blog with a limit of 365 words. 365 like the days of the year - my name being one of those days! Archives
March 2020
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