Perhaps you don’t understand where you are.” The audience murmured in agreement. Margaret Rothschild, Aerys to a banking dynasty and the foundation’s principal patron, whispered to her companion, “How rude. Someone needs to teach this generation some manners.” David remained motionless, but something in the way he held his cane changed subtly.
His fingers were no longer trembling. On the contrary, they were completely relaxed, like those of a surgeon before a delicate operation. “Vincent,” interjected Dr. Harrison Webb, conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Perhaps we should continue with the main program. No, no, Vincent cut in now clearly irritated by the perceived insubordination.
Young David here seemed to question the sophistication of our guests. I think it’s only fair that he demonstrate this musical superiority he’s implying. Vincent walked over to the piano and played the first few bars of the partita with exaggerated almost theatrical movements. You see, David, this is a piece that requires not only technique, but emotional maturity, something that takes decades to develop.
Are you sure you want to expose yourself like this? What Vincent didn’t know was that David knew every nuance of that performance? For the past 8 years, since he lost his sight in a car accident that also took his parents, he had devoted every free moment to music, not as a hobby or because of natural talent, but out of necessity.
It was his only way of processing pain that words couldn’t reach. His aunt Deborah, who worked as a cleaning lady at the city’s music conservatory, had gained access to rare recordings and braille sheet music. David had memorized hundreds of pieces, studying not only the notes, but the historical interpretations, the regional variations, the emotional contexts of each composer. Dr.
Sterling, David said, deliberately using the wrong title. You played the first few bars in D major. Partita number two is in C minor. An icy silence descended on the room. Vincent felt the blood rush to his face. He had deliberately changed the key to test whether the boy really knew the piece, but he hadn’t expected to be corrected in public.
Obviously, it was intentional, Vincent lied, his voice losing its polished smoothness. I was testing his basic musical ear. I see, David replied with a calmness that made some of the guests shift uncomfortably in their chairs. Then you must also know that Bach composed this parta after the death of his first wife, Maria Barbara.
