The Final Refrain

The Jensen household was always filled with music.  Anna and Einar had met in college, she was a singer and Einar was a Cellist.  It wasn't exactly love at first sight, in fact the first words Anna ever said to Einar were "Get lost", though Einar would insist that was due to his social awkwardness and not out of any wrongdoing on his part, Anna on the other hand would never let him forget that the first time he ever spoke to her was when he had drained half a distillery.  Nevertheless their courtship eventually found its footing, with Anna being the dominant partner in their relationship it was always her word that would be final.  It was no surprise then when their little boy was born she refused to let Einar name him for his father, insisting on the name of Mark instead.

Mark was outgoing and filled with dreams, with creativity flowing through his veins.  Anna and Einar set about shaping their child enrolling him in countless classes, learning how to play every instrument you can think of and learning to speak English, French, Spanish and their native Norsk.  Mark grew up in Oslo, in a medium sized semi-detached house in Gyldenløves gate.  The house was perfect from the ground up.  The house had 4 bedrooms, one taken by Anna and Einar, one taken by Mark, one taken by his little sister Emilia and a permanent guest room.  As well as a study and the obligatory music room the house had two receptions, two bathrooms and a kitchen that opened out onto a small garden to the rear.  The house nestled into the street basking in the shade of several large trees whose age was a secret known only to them.  Warm in the winter and cool in the Summer it was a true family home.  It was no surprise then that Mark did not leave until he was in his early thirties.

After several years of studying, achieving a bachelors in Education and a Masters in Psychology Mark finally set out to pursue a career in teaching, the subject would naturally be Music, but Mark was unable to find a place, in the end he would become an English teacher.  At heart he yearned to teach music, and made every attempt he could to incorporate it into his lessons.  His appetite was not appeased and so he took up a part time job teaching piano.  Many of his students from school became his first music students.  Through them his reputation spread and eventually he had no need for advertisements in the local paper and flyers scattered around colleges, instead he had a steady stream of pupils willing to learn. 

One day in August Mark got a phone call from a woman in her late seventies named Mildred who had recently lost her husband to cancer.  In his absence she found her time was wasted, and set about to do something that would give her something to occupy her mind.  Mildred's husband George had left behind many things but perhaps the most impressive was a solid oak grand piano that was polished to within an inch of its life, with keys as white as snow and as black as coal.  It was his pride and joy and in his wake it had sat lonely and longing to be touched, longing to utter sweet symphonies and melodies that would entrance anyone who cared to listen.  Mark would not usually accept older students as he found them the most difficult to teach, set in their ways they would often sit as he guided them, his words going in one ear and out the other and the shrill strikes and harsh contrasts of mismatched notes piercing and screeching like nails on a blackboard.  For Mildred however Mark made an exception, partly as the student who had referred her, a young man named Peter, begged in earnest that he give her a chance and partly because he felt the sincerity in her voice, the courage and the devotion that she would give.

The first few weeks with Mildred were hard, as he had expected she found it hard to grasp many of the concepts he was trying to teach and at a point he spoke to her softly one quiet afternoon and suggested that it may not be the best way to remember her husband.  Mildred was taken aback, she protested, yet she knew that she had not given it her all.  She begged Mark to have patience and give her one last chance.  Mark set out a routine of practice that would occupy almost every waking moment of Mildred's time.  Part of him wanted her to give up, perhaps if he gave her too much she would give up herself.  What happened however was that Mildred played, day and night, surviving on a few hours of sleep.  A month passed and when Mark returned he found Mildred sitting in the sun room staring off into space.  Peter told Mark of the hours Mildred had spent practising.  When she finally registered his presence she slowly stood, without a word and moved to the piano.  She sat and sighed softly.  Resting her fingers gently on the keys she set into playing, within a few notes Mark recognised the tone and progression as Ludovico Einaudi's Le Onde.  The piano sang with such grace as the music filled the air, the room was still, Peter and Mark looking on in amazement as their hearts were cusped in the hands of angels.  The music played as Mildred sat entranced her eyes welled as a tear ran down her cheek, she looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes and she played the final note.  A moment of silence passed and Mildred fell forward slumping onto the piano the keys letting out a sudden clash of notes.  Peter and Mark rushed to her but there was nothing they could do.  As the piano fell silent, so to did Mildred.