I was reading a post today and it included a youtube video of Beethovens’ Moonlight Sonata.
I had a flashback to our piano. Our solid mahogany, six and a half-foot grand piano with real ivory keys.
When I only had my two oldest daughters, I wanted them to take piano lessons. It never quite took for #2, but #1 took to it like a fish to water. She would sit at that piano for hours.
Loser could play the piano but he got annoyed when I would ask him to play. We were at his mama and daddys’ house once and I was being ignored because R*** wasn’t quite drunk enough to start abusing me. They had a piano.
I asked Loser to come play “fur Elise” so I could learn it. You would have thought I had asked him to defend me or something. He was clearly annoyed and he didn’t try to hide it. After all, I was asking him to take time away from the only people who mattered to him….then.
When my daughters were young, they weren’t allowed to sit in front of the television all day and there were no computers, so they entertained themselves and did it pretty well. Sometimes when they were bored, #1 would look at #2 and say “I know what. Let’s check our toes.”
They would crawl under the piano, take off their shoes and socks and look for “toe jam.” It is one of my fondest memories.
I can read musical notes but not with the fluidity it requires to actually play, so I “play by ear.” I heard Moonlight Sonata once and it took me a few hours to “pick it out” on the piano but I did. I would play it over and over, while waiting for Loser to come home.
When I finally perfected it, I wanted to play it for him but he never had time to listen.
That piano traveled with us to every state. When we moved to C*********, the house was so full of boxes there was no room for it in the house. It was put in the garage until I was able to unpack all the boxes and get the furniture arranged. I did it all by myself, of course. Loser couldn’t be bothered to help. While I was crawling up ladders to get boxes that were stacked to the ceiling, he was playing golf or staying after work to drink at a bar.
The piano never did make it into the house. When I sold the house and left, it stayed in the garage. Loser never asked about that piano.
I doubt that he even remembers we had it. If he didn’t notice that an entire wall was missing in our house, why would I expect him to miss a piano?
My son brought a piece of Amethyst back from Brazil and gave it to Loser. I think my son actually thought it would mean something to him. When I packed up the house in C*********, I found it thrown in a box. I have it now. I showed it to Loser and said “I’m keeping this.” He looked at me with a blank stare and said “uh…okay.” He didn’t even remember it.
How blissful his existence must be…to not remember anything about his past because he never noticed and worse because he never cared. I wonder if he could describe any of our furniture or how I decorated the houses.
I’d be willing to bet though, that he could tell you how his WTCs’ house is decorated (although he wrinkled up his nose when he said “I don’t want to live in her house.”)
When I would actually wear one of the few pieces of jewelry I had left that my son hadn’t stolen, Loser would ask me where I got it. When I asked him if he didn’t remember, he would say “if you tell me, I bet I’ll remember.” It would have been a piece that he had given me for a special occasion.
His memory seemed to disappear as soon as he started screwing one of his WTCs’.
His memory seemed to also disappear after a death. One of his best friends all through school was killed in Vietnam. His sister gave Loser a signet ring that belonged to him. It supposedly “meant so much” to Loser.
After forty-five years, Loser had no idea where that ring was and the only time he ever thought about it was after I brought it up when I was trying to get him to return his wedding ring. I told him his wedding ring would most likely “disappear” one day and he would never know because things like that didn’t matter to him.
That’s when I asked him if he ever even thought about D**** M*K*****s’ ring.
He said he “reckoned” it was somewhere and then asked me if I knew where it was.
I just smiled and said “it’s probably somewhere” as I was thinking “yes I know where it is, you pile of shit….but you’ll never know.”
I’m sure he doesn’t even remember that conversation.
That’s Loser. The here and now. That’s all he cares about. That’s all he remembers.