“Play it again” I say, looking at Walt through my wine glass. He looks up at me and then at the glass.

“You’re gunna drop that thing Marie, don’t ruin my baby.” Mockingly I teeter my glass close enough that the wine meets my smeared lipstick stain.

“Heaven forbid not the baby!” I say gently patting the piano before leaning back against its sleek surface. My eyes start to wander as Walt rifles through sheets of music paper that have yellowed from age. But as soon as I hear that first note my attention is all on him. I watch his hands sing a beautiful ballad. They tense as the song reaches its climax as if anticipating a big reveal. They become excited as they climb higher and higher up the keys moving so fast that if I couldn’t hear it I wouldn’t think his hands were there at all.

I hear him inhale the notes like the savory steam of a favorite meal. I bet he was holding it in, as if breathing came second to playing. His breath led the way for his piece to simmer. His hands now strolled from key to key as if he wanted to make sure each note was heard completely before moving on to the next.

“ Walt!” I jumped. Turning around, I found a stout little man with bushy brows that were desperately trying to reach the end of his nose. His stubby legs marched closer to us then said “ Walt, we closed hours ago. Help me get these tables cleared and remind me why I keep paying yuh.”

“Don’t you remember James? You hired me for my good looks.” Walt gave a toothy smile, but I think the nasty look on James’ face made him realize shutting up was the best option. Walt scurries towards the tables that the guests impatiently sign with forks and knives when waiting for service.

“Don’t give him such a hard time James, I kept naggin’ him to play.” I could tell I hadn’t made a difference and my suspicions were confirmed when he said,

“ Well now missy, so you’re saying its your fault my bar is still a mess?” Now he started walking towards me. I tried stepping back but the piano’s body just dug into mine. I could smell the alcohol coming off of his words. “Well?”

I escaped the pungent odor and raced over to Walt. James mumbled as he walked out of the room, his fast paced footsteps matching my racing heart.

“Now missy”, Walt says in a rough impersonation, “Is it you’re fault that my filthy no good bar matches the swine that gorge themselves here?” Lifting my up, he continues, “ It must be your beauty that draws all these no good fools in here, cuz it sure aint the food.” At that last sentence his voce had become his own.

Oh how can he do that! He just takes his love and can mold it into beautiful words. Those sculptures leave me speechless. I try to capture the same beauty but my lips seem to make dull designs. Awkward and flat words just sink to the floor, instead of floating up to his ears.

Over the clank of dirty dishes being bussed I ask, “ Why are you still here? You should be playing in concert halls! Not cleaning up after half drunk men.” A familiar sigh slips from his mouth as he says,

“We’ve been over this before Ma-…”

“Yes, but you’ve never given me a good enough answer.” He turns to another table and begins picking up empty baskets left with remnants of french fry grease. “ It can’t really be the money. I’ve known you for ages, and you don’t spend a dime for yourself!”

“It’s not the money” With his back still turned I head to the opposite side of the table.
Staring across from him I ask,” well, then what is it? This can’t be your dream job. Half bus boy, half pianist aint good enough for you.” I hate it. I know he hates it. At first it was fun. Just out of college, Walt loved being able to play and get paid for it. That was five years ago though, and its time he got serious.

“ It’s good enough and if I became all famous, I wouldn’t have time for you.” Showing half a smile he continues, “and how could I survive not being able to see your beauty everyday?”

With the tables cleared, I bring the bin of dirty dishes to the kitchen, but not before giving Walt an displeased glare. I’m trying to be serious with him, why won’t he talk about it?

Unable to look at him, I send all my anger at one of the empty glasses through my frustrated stare. I rub my thumbs over the smooth surface feeling the cool droplets of condensation break under my touch. Footsteps grow louder behind me. Setting down the glass, I glance around the kitchen before asking “Where should I put ‘em” trying to keep all the emotion out of my voice.

“Just leave it, your boyfriend can take care of it.” It was James. The smell of alcohol had not subsided, if anything, it had grown stronger. Surprised by his appearance, my heart starts to jump around in my chest.

“ Oh, I don’t mind helping out, it’s worth it to hear Walt play.” As I speak I try to move closer to the exit. James is usually ok, but James is usually not drinking. When there is alcohol in his system, he becomes unpredictable. Backing up towards the door, my hand clips the side of the glass that I had just set down. It falls towards the tiled floor and two pairs of eyes watch it smash as it meets the ground. Karma. It had to be karma. Why did I have to glare at that stupid glass, I can imagine its laughter, the sound of wind chimes. Unfortunately, James did not partake in the humor. His jaw locked and I wasn’t safe.

Walt walked into the kitchen. “Hey, you okay? I thought I heard…” But then he looked up. His eyes quickly scanned the situation and he began again saying, “ Hey James, I was just looking for you. I found this twenty under a table and thought it probably belonged to you? Pulling out a crisp bill that had probably never been to a bar, let alone the floor of one, he stepped in between James and I. James’ angere had been distracted enough by his greed that he no longer had any fight in him.

Taking the twenty, James leaves saying, “You’ll have to pay for that” and points to the shattered glass. As the door closes and separates Walt and me from the rest of the world, I start to cry. Not an all out bawl, but the kind where you never seem to have enough air and your eyes sting as they push out the unwanted salted tears.

“Walt,” I take a moment to grasp some air “why do you want to stay here?” He comes over and holds my shaking body. I hide my head in his chest, letting his chin rest on top of it. I feel the vibrations of his voice as he says

“ I stay for you.” He untangles his arms and fidgets with his jacket pockets. I see is fingers dance around the interior of the coat through the think fabric. He takes out a small box and holds it up for me to see. “Because when I leave this town, I want you to go with me.”