Piano Lessons

Living in the Mundane

The clock chimed seven times in every home in the bustling, industrial town of Kenworth, Massachusetts. Ben set his pencil down in sudden realization of how long he had been awake. His uncle's slow footsteps came down the hall, and Ben rushed to collect the scattered sketches and open notebooks that littered his floor. He took comfort in knowing that he could run and stomp as much as he needed to, and his old, deaf uncle would never hear him. Just as the rickety metal of the door handle jiggled, Ben jumped into his bed and threw the comforter over his head.

His uncle's voice was loud, always a shout, "Ben, it's time to get up!"

He threw off his covers and looked up at the old man, "I don't feel like going."

His uncle's expression was blank, "I didn't hear a word you just said."

Ben hated that joke. He huffed and swung his legs over the side of the bed and touched his feet to the cold wooden floor. Grabbing a pencil and a notepad, he scribbled a few sentences.

He handed it to his uncle who always read Ben's notes out loud, which Ben hated, "I feel sick. I don't want to go. Don't make me go. Stop telling that joke."

His uncle looked up, "It's the last day. It's not my fault you stay up too late doodling, and yes, I know about the doodling. You're going."

Ben knew his uncle couldn't actually make him do anything, but he would feel bad for causing him trouble. It would disappoint his parents if he did.

He stared at his uncle and enunciated so that the old man could read his lips, "Fine. I'll be home for lunch."

His uncle took a moment to process before saying, "I'll be out today. I'm going to check on the factory. Make sure you actually go back after lunch. Believe me when I say that I will know."

Ben couldn't get away with anything. It was as if since his uncle had lost his hearing, God had given him an all-powerful knowledge. Ben wished that God would have given his parents a job instead. His uncle didn't need any help with anything. The piano assembly factory he'd started had made him richer than sin. Only rich people could afford pianos. Ben hated pianos. Ben hated the rich. They ruined his family.

Entrepreneurship ran in his family. His father had owned his own auto shop that boomed as automobiles slowly began to grip the country. His grandfather went from working in a factory at age nine to buying the factory out. His mother started her own beauty salon. His uncle handcrafted pianos before figuring out that he could assemble them faster if he opened his own factory.

Failure ran equally in Ben's family. His father's auto shop got shut down by the government for suspicion of smuggling alcohol inside it after work hours during the height of the Prohibition. His grandfather was murdered and robbed by union activists in a bloody strike before his children could finish their childhood. His mother's shop was bought out by a greedy man who thought it wasn't a woman's place to be running her own business. Then, of course, his father and mother had bought on the margin to bail themselves out in a grand scheme, the stock market crashed and left them without a home, a penny, and now, a child. His uncle hadn't failed at business yet, but he had served in The Great War and lost his mind and his hearing after standing too close to an exploding shell.

Ben felt bad for his uncle. His one joy in life had been music, but war had made him a bitter man. He also hated his uncle for being rich enough for his parents to send Ben to for safe-keeping and stability.

His uncle left the house and walked down the street. He had enough money for a car, but he didn't believe in using them. Ben threw on his threadbare shoes, tousled his raven hair, gathered his precious sketches and writings in his old, leather bound folder, and trudged to his final day of his eleventh year of school.