Duet for Solo Violin

"Where do we start?" He looked at Helena. She was always so much better at these things than he was.

"Why don't you take that corner over there. See what he has in the cabinet." Helena put her hand on John's arm. "Once you get started it won't be that hard."

John looked at wife and nodded his head, but inside he knew better. He had been through this before, when his first wife had died. He had felt like a scavenger picking his way through the remnants of her life.

Helena had said earlier that this could be very cathartic. That going through and packing up Victors things might help them fell closer to Victor and give them both some closure.

John did as Helena suggested and opened the small low-lying cabinet. As he opened the door John recalled what was inside. All of Victor's recordings, his music library. Victor hated to be without his records and paid the extra freight to have them shipped to Alpha. John pulled out the mini CD's which Victor had insisted on calling records even though there wasn't a bit of vinyl insight. He remembered listening to many of these in Victors company but others were a total surprise. It was an eclectic selection to say the least: opera, chamber music, blues, four disks devoted solely to music for contra bassoon. As John went down the stack, he was struck by how much American music was there. There were recordings of Corigliano, Carl Ruggles, Ives, Copland, Bernstein, Joplin, Ellington, Gershwin, and six different violinists performing the Barber Violin Concerto...and Elvis. John took the recording out and stared at it. Who would have thought Victor would listen to Elvis. John closed his eyes and tried to picture it. The image was too funny for John to contain and he laughed out loud.

"What's so funny?" Helena called from the desk area where she had been sorting through files.

"Did you know Victor has a CD of Elvis Presley?" John asked.

"No, Really?" Helena laughed, "Maybe someone gave it to him."

"Who knows? Victor was a man of varied tastes to say the least. We should bring these recordings to the library, give everyone a chance to hear them." John said.

"Good idea. And what should we do with this?"

John turned to see Helena indicating Victor's old beat up violin. He lifted it up by the neck so he could examine it more closely. John peered inside and saw that the soundpost was still standing, a good sign. The label read 'Anton Stradivari, cer, 1765. It was a fake, of course. Victor had bought it at a pawn shop in Baltimore, while teaching a semester at Johns Hopkins. John's musing were interrupted by Helena.

"You played as a child, didn't you? Maybe you should keep it. If you could figure it out again than you could teach the new generation."

John looked down at the violin again and was flooded by memories. Yes, he had played as a child. Every Saturday, he would leave his parents' nice brownstone in the Park Slope Section of Brooklyn to schlep to

Manhattan and take lessons. Every week was the same. He'd wait till the last possible moment to go. He'd come down the stairs and his grandmother -- Bubbie -- would be waiting. She would tell him how proud she was of him and how he reminded her of her late husband, 'may he rest in piece'. Then she'd give he a kiss on the check, which always left a smear of pink lipstick, and tell him to listen to his teacher.

John would head off to the subway at super slow speed, he was in no rush to get there. He'd walk the tree-lined street to Seventh Avenue and then turn up toward the subway station. He'd ride the F train, waiting for that moment when it emerged from underground to become an elevated. The view of lower Manhattan was never disappointing. The station at Smith-9th Streets had the highest elevation in the City. In the few moments that the train was outside, John could see all the way from the Statue of Liberty to the glass towers of Wall Street. Then the train would dive back underground, and John would have to satisfy himself with people-watching till he got to Delancey Street. He'd get off the train and make the 5 block walk to the Henry Street Settlement School. Strangely, Henry Street School was actually located on Grand Street, which put it right on the border between Little Italy and Chinatown. John would look in every shop in Chinatown as he made his way to the school. He loved looking at the exotic seafood and meats hanging in the windows. He'd make a quick stop at Ferrara's, and debate which pastry would be his treat after his lesson. He'd shuffle his feet and bang his violin case into every obstacle he encountered.

His violin teacher was named Miss Rascosovitch. She was very stern. Even thinking back about her, John was intimidated. He'd walk into the lesson and she'd smile that small cold knowing smile of her's. She'd ask 'Zo, Shzjohn,did yu pracize dis veek?' and he'd lie, 'Of course, Miss Rascosovitch.' The lesson would be torture. He'd play the same scales, the same exercises, over and over again. She's yell, "Vat is dis, yu

are sharpp, now it is fliet. Yu moost lisden." He hated it. He hated her. He hated the violin. He couldn't possibly keep this instrument Victor had loved.

He looked up at his wife, who had left him to his musing. "No, I don't want it. There must be someone else here who studied, and would actually use it. I'll have Nioka make an announcement on the Alphan

New, letting everyone know it's available." John put the fiddle down and went back to help Helena sort through Victor's desk.

Yasko sat at her station. She occupied herself with mindless routine work. She had plastered a small smile on her face. Growing up in Tokyo, she had learned how to carve out a private space for herself even when surrounded by lots of other people.

Yasko had heard the notice about Professor Bergman's violin. The broadcast had stated that any interested parties should contact the Commander directly. Yasko had been wondering what would happen to the old violin. She had played it many times while the Professor was still alive. He had a rudimentary grasp of Japanese, which was far more than almost any other Alphan. With the exception of the very small contingent of Japanese and her fiance, Toshiro the only American-Born Japanese Alphan, Yasko had to content herself with speaking English. She knew her English was limited and was often frustrated. No matter how beautiful, intelligent, and well thought out a sentiment she had formulated in her mind, what came out sounded childlike. That she and Professor Bergman could communicate in half Japanese, half English was better than nothing. And the professor himself was always wonderful to her. About a year earlier, he had discovered her violin training he had invited her to come to his quarters and play his violin. It had been a while since she had touched a violin and she was displeased at how she sounded. The Professor, on the other hand was thrilled. While he loved to play, the truth was that he was a terrible player. Totally self taught, he had good musical instincts but no technique to back it up. Often he would try and play pieces way beyond his ability. They had come to an "arrangement" where Yasko could come on her free time and practice a bit in exchange for lessons. At first Yasko had been nervous about this, teaching a great mind like the Professor, but immediately there was a connection. He was childlike in his glee of learning and it pushed her to recover her skills.

Yasko had mourned the Professors death, just as the rest of Alpha had. It had been a shock. She had wanted to ask about the fate of his violin sooner, but the time had never been right. Now she had to go speak to the Commander.

Unlike Professor Bergman, Yasko felt completely intimidated by Commander Koenig. He had been nothing but kind to her. He had promoted her to the Command staff and had increasingly given her more responsibility. Still she was scared of him. She had never approached him about anything personal before. She sat at her desk, rehearsing what she would say in her mind, trying to calm her nerves.

Finally her shift ended. She picked herself up and brushed her long straight hair back over her shoulder. With the greatest of mental control she made her feet walk to the Commander's office and rang his door. The door slid open and John Koenig beckoned her in. He was sitting at his desk, staring at a computer screen. Yasko immediately worried that she was interrupting him, annoying important man with her

trivial desires. Her tongue felt like a lead weight in her mouth.

"Yasko, What can I do for you?" He smiled at her.

"Commander... I want... to talk to...you about the Professor's violin. If it's all right... I think I would like to take it." Yasko was so nervous she was shaking.

"I didn't know you played." Koenig said simply. He had risen from his desk and walked around to the front of it. He let his long frame sit hanging on its edge.

"Oh, yes, Commander. I have been playing since I was three years." Yasko was standing very straight. She held her arms to her sides.

"Really, I had no idea. You don't have a violin of your own here?" Yasko nodded. "When was the last time you played?"

"Oh, about six weeks ago. Just before Professor died." She answered.

"Victor knew you played?" the Commander seemed surprised.

"Oh yes. Every week I would play for him. He would play for me, too." Yasko knew she should explain about the lessons, but couldn't find the words to elaborate. This was the longest conversation she had ever had with the Commander.

"He never said a word." The Commander shook his head. "So, you like to play, are you any good?"

Yasko studiously looked at the floor, "When I was younger, I think I was pretty good. Now I do not practice enough. But the love to play is still there." She looked up at the Commander who towered over her.

Koenig was looking at her with a curious stare that made Yasko uncomfortable. "Did you always love it? Even when you were so young?"

"Oh Commander that was the best time. When I was little, my mother, Tomoko, would take me two times a week to music class. My teacher, Mr. Ikemiya-sensei would teach me and my mother, and then my mother would teach me again at home. Then we go to group class too. There would be thirty, maybe more students, all levels there. And we would play all different pieces we knew. And sometimes we play games with the violin. Once a year many students come from all over Japan to a big festival in Tokyo. We would have huge concert with hundreds of students..." Yasko stopped herself and returned her eyes to the floor. She was sure she was boring the Commander.

"Did you stop taking lessons at some point?" Koenig sounded genuinely interested. He had pushed up from the desk and taken a step towards her.

"As I got older it became harder and harder to find time to do everything. I had so much school work. Also as I got older my mother did not help me with my music work so much. The music became more difficult. My teacher's were still kind, but as I improved, they expected more. By the time I was eleven I knew there were other subjects I like too and that I didn't want to be a professional musician. Still I loved to play so I kept studying until I was 13. Then my mother's company transferred her to San Francisco for two years. Going to school in America was very difficult. My English was not so good then. So I play just play violin in the school orchestra but did not take lessons anymore."

"I had forgotten that you lived in the States." Koenig had wrapped his arms around his chest. "You didn't start again when your family moved back to Japan?"

"Oh no, Commander. By then I was in High School and there was way too much school work and examinations."

Koenig looked at Yasko and flashed her a big grin. "Well at least you have happy memories. You probably didn't know that I took lessons when I was a child." He took another step closer to Yasko.

"Professor Bergman told me." The words fell out of Yasko's mouth before she could stop them.

"Victor told you?" Again the Commander seemed surprised, almost annoyed. "What did he say?"

"Oh, Commander, just that you did not like the violin and that you had a very mean teacher. He said you that you think you are tone death."

"I am tone deaf," John said with a laugh.

"No, Commander, that is silly."

"Believe me, I am." the Commander said taking yet another step towards her.

"No, really. Your ears are just untrained." Yasko giggled. Embarrassed by her display, Yasko covered her mouth with her hand.

"Perhaps. Anyway it seems like you should take the instrument. I'll give it to you with three provisos. One, if anyone else comes to me and also wishes it, you share it." The Commander had started to walk

towards a closet in the corner of the room.

"Of course, Commander."

"Second, that you try and teach some of the new generation how to play."

"I will try, commander. I have only had one student before. I do not know how good a teacher I will be." Yasko said honestly. She turned so she could still see the Commander.

"We all will have to learn how to teach soon. I'm sure you'll be great. The last proviso is more personal. Victor loved the Barber Violin Concerto. Could you learn that piece?"

Yasko's eyes grew wide. "I do not know Commander. It is very difficult. I have never tried anything that complicated. It may take me a very long time."

"There's no rush, but I believe it would have made Victor happy." The Commander had reached the closet and picked up the violin case. He took a few steps back toward Yasko and extended the old black case to her. "Now take the fiddle. Enjoy." He put a hand on her shoulder.

Yasko looked up into the Commander's face. He was smiling widely at her. She took the case and smiled back. "Thank you, Commander. I will take good care of it." With that, she took her prize and left.

Yasko had just gotten outside the door. It slid closed behind her and she took a moment to catch her breath. Her heart was still pounding in her chest. Yasko looked at the case and smiled. She couldn't wait it to show Toshi. He was always chiding her for being too passive. Now she would be able to tell him how she spoke up for herself. He'd say some ridiculous thing to her in his Californian, slang-filled Japanese, but underneath he'd be proud of her.

The door slid shut and John shook his head. He had known Yasko for years now, and yet he knew so little about her. Victor, John thought, had taken the time to form a relationship with the operative. John thought about his old friend and smiled. He spied a pile of mini CD's and went to them. John picked up the first disk and put it in the player. The sound of the solo violin entered seconds after the orchestra. The melody was surprisingly simple. John remembered fondly how Victor had loved this work. He could discuss its intricacies for hours. John closed his eyes and let his mind drift. He was sure the violin would have a good home with Yasko, but more importantly John knew that the instrument would be used. It was what Victor would have wanted.

 Ina Litera

July, 1999