TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

Jaroslavas Melnikas

for sheet music, the small, decorated table where my father’s violin lay. And, lit by the sun which streamed through the large windows, the composers’ portraits gazed at me. I had barely touched the keys when somebody knocked quietly on the door. ‘Am I disturbing you?’ ‘No, come in.’ ‘You were away for so long, I thought . . .’ ‘No, everything is fine,’ I said to her. And I felt such a sense of joy at that soft, half-forgotten distance that was present between us. ‘And you? Have you been to your dressing room already?’ I needed to reassure myself, though it was perfectly clear. She was about to leave the room. ‘Lucy.’ I took her hand. ‘Tell me, do you remember anything?’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘You...’ I stepped a little closer to the grand piano. Beethoven’s bust had a glued scar on its forehead. I touched the glue line and hastily removed my hand. ‘It’s fine.’ I forced a smile. ‘See you at lunch?’ ‘See you at lunch.’ She smiled back, as she left the room. _____


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