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Zoey's Lesson
by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com
It was almost six thirty as Zoey shut the front door of her house,
again she checked her watch. To be early would mean an uncomfortable
time standing in the vestibule while the piano teacher finished
watching Ironsides on television. As she walked west toward the
teachers house, she started imagining things again. It was more
exciting pretending to be something or someone else, anything
was more exciting then being just Zoey going to a piano lesson.
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching her closely,
Zoey started to hurry along. As she walked quickly past the row
houses, each one with a set of marble front steps and a hand railing,
Zoey imagined she was running along a train platform and that
the train she needed to catch was starting to move. She had to
hurry to make her connection. The houses moved faster and faster
on her left. She could see it now, the hand railing she needed
to grab. Would she make it or miss the train? Would she be stranded
in a city far away from home? Grabbing the hand railing, just
in the nick of time, she hopped safely on the marble steps. Grinning
that she made it, she glanced at her watch again. Drat, not six
thirty yet.
Zoey took a deep breath and checked again to make sure she had
her two music books and that her fingernails were clean. She remembered
his rules clearly, clean fingers on his piano, being on time,
and practicing during the week. Zoey knelt down and pretended
to tie her shoe. She imagined the slight breeze that blew her
skirt gently against her leg had came from the movement of the
train.
A man turned the corner near the mailbox and started walking toward
her. Zoey switched positions and pretended to tie her other shoe.
The man was walking slowly and Zoey realized that either she would
have to tie both her shoes again or knock on the door. This time
when the breeze blew at her skirt, Zoey couldn't pretend it was
the rush of the train, since that man was walking right on the
tracks. The man smiled at her and she smiled back. Zoey wondered
if he could tell she was pretending. She also wondered if he had
ever run along the marble steps chasing a train.
Zoey picked up her music books and knocked on the door. Immediately,
she realized something was different. Mr. Martin's shirt wasn't
tucked in and he didn't have on his tie. He told her to come inside
and tossed the two dollars she handed him onto a small table in
the hall. Zoey stepped up into the living room and waited under
the archway. This was when she saw the glass of white wine on
the end table, and that he wasn't wearing shoes. On the TV she
saw Raymond Burr in a suit and wheelchair busy getting a confession
out of a crying man on the witness stand. Zoey realized that she
came right at the climax of the TV show and felt bad.
Standing there quietly she started thinking about how all the
row houses she had ever been in were very different. This one
had a step leading up from the vestibule like her grandmother's
house, but the living room was much wider like her own house.
She would love to explore it.
Zoey often fantasized about everyone in the world just disappearing,
not dying really, but disappearing, so she could go anywhere,
live anywhere, play anywhere, explore anywhere without finding
dead bodies. She would be able to drive a car down the highway
or roller skate down the middle of the street. She would live
at the school, she had that all planned, because it was really
like a mansion, three stories tall and one room even had French
doors with high arched windows and a grand piano in it. She also
loved to play pretend school and she knew she would be able to
arrange the desks in straight rows and see what it felt like to
stand in the corner or be banished to the cloak room. In real
life Zoey would never be brave enough to misbehave.
Mr. Martin chuckled as Ironsides continued to grill the poor man
on the witness stand. Zoey returned for a moment from her thoughts,
then stared at the piano bench. She wondered if what she imagined
to be inside the piano bench was really in there, the black leather
strap. Perhaps, if Zoey came to her piano lesson with dirty hands,
she would find out. She would be placed over the arm of the couch,
her skirt would be lifted up, her panties lowered, and Mr. Martin
would lecture her about following rules as he opened the piano
bench. He would take out the strap and test it once on his hand.
One hand would hold her in place with a gentle firmness while
the other reddened her behind with swift sharp licks of the strap.
Zoey wouldn't cry, not till after he was done. She would bite
her lip and close her eyes and hear his disapproval and the repetitive
sound of the strap as it snapped on her bottom.
Mr. Martin pointed at the piano bench, and Zoey was slightly startled
then smiled and took her seat. He told her to play what she had
been practicing all week. As she played the simple piece from
the exercise book she could feel that Mr. Martin was behind her
watching over her shoulder. He told her to slow it down a bit.
Zoey tried to play the piece slower, but by the end she was speeding
along again. His piano always made her go fast, the keys just
kind of bounced back at her unlike her piano at home that was
soft and mushy under her fingers.
He then pointed at the spiral book and Zoey flipped to the back
where he had been giving her waltzes to practice. This week she
had practiced Apple Blossom Time and she was anxious for him to
write the ending. He scooted next to her on the bench and repeated
the part she already had learned, then started playing the rest
of the song. As he played the song his arm would reach in front
of Zoey to get the deep notes and his unbuttoned sleeve would
flap against her leg. His sleeve flapping against her leg made
her feel uncomfortable. It tickled her upper legs. Zoey slid a
little left but reached the end of the bench. She watched as he
penciled in a few notes, tiny dashes on the page, then continued
on with the song.
The front of her spiral notebook was filled with scales and chords
and something he called harmony. He was also filling her book
back to front with waltzes. Zoey wondered what would happen when
the front and back of the book met. She also wondered if he would
notice that she had ripped out a few pages to practice writing
notes. Her practice notes always turned out round and fat and
crooked.
Flipping to the front of the book he told her to play her harmony.
Zoey suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She was hoping he would
forget about it this week like he had last week. She blinked and
stared at the pointy straight notes and hoped her fingers would
know what to do. Funny, all Zoey could think about while her fingers
fumbled over the chords was a cat she knew named Harmony. It was
a big fluffy white cat with green eyes. She use to think it was
a beautiful name for a cat.
Zoey stopped in the middle of the music frame, her fingers hovered
over the keys and suddenly she realized she was lost. This happened
a lot to her when she thought about other things while she was
practicing. Suddenly, being able to read the notes became very
important and she broke out into a sweat. Mr. Martin said calmly
that the note she was searching for was a sharp, but Zoey had
no idea even where she was on the page. She picked a spot and
started over, but the moment she did, her ears told her she was
not in the right place. Mr. Martin chuckled and pointed to the
place she had been before she got lost. Unfortunately, that didn't
help at all, because Zoey couldn't start right in the middle like
that. After a long pause, Mr. Martin sat down next to Zoey and
explained to her why he wanted her to practice the harmony.
As he talked Zoey could feel her face turning red. He knew she
hadn't practiced. He flipped to the back of the spiral book and
played the waltz but instead of playing it the simple way Zoey
had learned, his entire hand filled in the melody with different
notes. He explained that this was how she would play the song
after she learned the harmony. Then he asked Zoey a question.
He wanted to know if there was a song she would love to learn.
Without thinking Zoey said The Flight of the Bumble Bee.
Zoey often said things without thinking. As soon as she said things,
she could tell right away that she shouldn't have by the look
on someone's face. Mr. Martin had this look on his face right
now. He told Zoey to get up. He sounded like he meant for her
to get up fast, so Zoey hopped off the bench and watched as he
opened it and reached inside. For a moment, Zoey was certain he
was holding a black leather strap.
After swallowing and blinking she realized it was a large blue
music book. He told her to sit down and then opened the book of
piano sonatas. The notes seemed very tiny and each measure contained
tons of notes. Mr. Martin took a pencil and marked a measure half
way down the page. He explained that if next week she got to that
spot, she wouldn't have to work on harmony anymore. He played
the section he wanted her to practice and marked different places
with names of chords. Then after passing the place where she was
to reach, he continued playing the entire sonata, even turning
the pages. Zoey listened to the music and watched his hands glide
along the entire piano. His shirt sleeve flapped against her knee
and his stockinged foot pressed the left pedal. Zoey knew this
wasn't the Flight of the Bumble Bee but it was fast and full and
beautiful.
Mr. Martin snapped the book shut and handed it to Zoey saying
it was hers and that she didn't need to pay for it. Before she
realized what was happening, she was back out on the marble front
steps. Walking home slowly Zoey looked at the price of the book
in the upper left corner. It cost as much as five lessons. Zoey
felt very strange, guilty, and anxious.
As she was about to enter her house she took a deep breath. Zoey
always took a deep breath before entering her parents house. Exhaling,
she imagined she was much older than thirteen. Zoey pretended
she was now in college and her parents and brother were merely
the people from whom she rented a room. She entered the front
living room which was bright, sunny and had green carpet and was
seldom used. Her parents were arguing in the middle room of the
house. As Zoey passed by the upright piano and turned to go up
the center staircase she glanced into the middle room. That poor
man, his wife was always yelling. Zoey smiled at him and he smiled
back. She noticed his crutches had scraped the wall paneling.
That was what the landlady was yelling about.
The middle room was dark and brown. Zoey wondered why a scrape
on the wall would matter since the room was always dark. The man
was sitting in his spot, the end table near him had the radio
that sometimes was on and when it was, always filled the house
with classical music. Zoey looked forward to showing the man her
new music book, and playing that first sonata, maybe tomorrow.
He wouldn't mind that she was just learning and had to repeat
a lot. When the woman was home, Zoey seldom practiced, unless
she knew the piece well. Zoey smiled again, thinking that she
wouldn't have to play the harmony anymore, the woman had called
it depressing. Its important to keep the landlady happy.
Zoey went into her room still carrying her music books. She wanted
to look at them and not hear the voices from downstairs, so she
turned up her record player. She placed the books on her desk.
Her room was the middle room of the row house and didn't have
any windows. It was easy sometimes to pretend she was deep in
the ground and that the skylight above her desk was her only escape.
Zoey glanced up at the skylight because she heard a pigeon walking
on it. Though the frosted glass, she could make out its feet clearly
and a blurry shadow that was its body.
Zoey shut the door to her room. She felt very guilty that her
music teacher had given her a gift when he should have punished
her for not practicing. She knew she had to be punished. She put
her arms behind her back and pretended to be waiting for the principal.
She was waiting in his office, not touching any of the things
on his desk. Zoey shivered with excitement and fear.
The principal entered the room and Zoey could imagine how he would
seem, angry yet controlled, tall and menacing, as he lectured
her about practicing everyday. He also told her that this wasn't
the first time she had misbehaved and he needed to make it very
clear that she would be taught her lesson this time. Zoey nodded
and kept her eyes down and promised in a whisper that she would
practice everyday.
Zoey watched as her own hands opened her bottom desk drawer and
took out the brown leather belt. She kneeled beside her bed and
her upper body rested on a pillow she placed at the edge. Her
skirt was lifted and her panties slid down. She reached back and
smacked herself with the belt, the sting surprised her and she
bit at her lip. She continued to feel slap after slap of the belt.
Her body rocked with the impact and she pushed against the pillow
for comfort.
She could hear the lecturing of the principal as he continued
to spank her. Zoey dropped the belt, and covered her eyes with
her arms to hide her face, warmed with shame. She imagined the
spanking continuing as she found solace pressing her body into
the pillow. His final thrust of the belt caused Zoey to shudder
and yelp out a small gasp. Her entire body shivered and sighed.
Zoey lay there a moment imagining his hand gently stroking her
hair. She heard him say that he trusted she would be well behaved
from now on and that she was a good girl. Zoey sighed with relief,
her body thumping to the rhythm of the belt.
© 1999 by zprymantis@smilingwithteeth.com, not to be reposted or distributed
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