Twelve Stories About Devotion Read online

very nice suit your wearing and the tie matches perfectly. Tell me, who helps you with your clothes?"

  "I guess the wife does," I admitted hesitatingly. So there it was! Now she knew that I was married. Would it make any difference? My response to her question seemed to have had no immediate effect

  "Where shall we go for lunch?" I asked.

  "Anywhere is fine," she said. Somehow, it had not occurred to me during the week that it might have been a good idea to have decided ahead of time where to go -- and possibly, to have made reservations.

  "Normally, I drink my lunch," Susan added. This seemed a strange remark. Was this young woman a heavy drinker? I wondered. Did she want me to take her to a place where drinks were served?

  I was a light drinker and was not familiar with drinking places. My driving became aimless. "Would you like to go somewhere to have a drink?" I asked.

  "No, I was just kidding. Let's go to Sherman Park." Now that was more my speed. At least, I did know where the park was. It took only a few minutes to get there and we found a parking place next to a rail fence. I stopped the car and turned in my seat slightly so that I was facing Susan.

  "I'm divorced," Susan began it was an emotionless remark. "My husband and I are still very friendly."

  It struck me as curious that she had used the word husband instead of former husband.

  Normally, I listen more than I talk. Therefore, as Susan spoke, my only comments were "uh huh" now and then, or "is that so?"

  Susan had had a wonderful man as a husband, she told me. His name was Vernon. They had been married since she was sixteen. Susan was thirty-four now. There were two daughters -- Sheila and Teresa. Sheila was fifteen and Teresa was ten. A coincidence was the fact that Susan's birthday and that of my daughter, Dorothy, were on the same date, -- August first.

  One of the men that Susan had known since she was separated was named Jimmy. Susan didn't say what Jimmy's last name was. It seems that Jimmy came from a very wealthy family. As a joke, at a card game one day, Jimmy had offered to give Susan a diamond ring that had as many diamonds in it as Susan had years in her life. She had accepted.

  Susan showed me the ring that she wore on the ring finger of her left hand. It was gigantic with diamonds superimposed upon diamonds. The most descriptive word that I could think of to characterize it was monstrosity. I did not verbalize this description.

  "That was a funny kind of joke," I commented "no pun intended."

  "Yes, but you've got to remember that Jimmy comes from a very wealthy family. His parents own a ranch where they raise horses. Probably, to him, a ring with thirty-four diamonds on it has about the same value as five dollars would have to an ordinary person." It sounded plausible, but I didn't completely buy the story.

  Susan continued that she was estranged from her entire family. She said that she preferred the relationship this way since the members of her family were of a lower class that she. Besides they just could not understand the fact that Susan went with doctors, lawyers, business men of various kinds and others in the professions. I felt flattered that Susan had consented to go out with me. Could it be that she considered my status to be equal to that of those she had mentioned? I had authored some textbooks that had sold all over the world, and which had been translated in various languages. Upon reflection, I convinced myself that an author was a person with as much status as a doctor or lawyer.

  Susan did most of the talking; I, most of the listening. Shortly after one o'clock, we decided it was time to go back to work. About ten minutes later, both of us were back at our desks.

  Susan was a most unusual person, I pondered. There was much that was strange about her, and there was much that was unusual about the things that she had told me. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it all but decided that I wanted to be with her and talk to her again.

  That evening, after dinner, I decided to have an important chat with myself. What was I doing? I was on the track of being unfaithful to Kathleen. Was this me? I had always felt that being faithful to a wife should be a given in any marriage. This encounter with Susan had not been a good example of my keeping that conviction.

  I questioned why Susan had introduced herself to me the way she had. I was an instructor, and instructors should not have unprofessional relationships with students. In having gone out with Susan, I had violated this important tenet.

  An unfaithful relationship could only result in pain to Kathleen, my children, and my mother. What kind of person would I be, if this consequence was not important to me?

  I had to make a decision. The time for it was now. Too much had already occurred that should not have.

  The next day was a Saturday. I went into the den at home and dialed her home number. "Susan," I said, "I enjoyed my conversation with you yesterday. Last night I had a long conversation with myself, and found myself to be less than a decent human being. I don't believe I have to tell you why. From this point, our relationship, yours and mine, will be strictly as student and teacher. That would be the only way that I would be able to live with myself. I'm making this call is to tell you this."

  "But, . . ." She began and was silent for a long time. Finally, she asked, "Are you sure you want it this way?"

  "Yes."

  "I understand," she said. "That's the way that it will be."

  I had made one of the most important decisions in my life, and I never regretted it.

  Play Moonlight Sonata For Me

  My name is Matthew Vincent. My wife's name is Matilda. We call each other by our nicknames Matt and Mattie. Were in their twilight years.

  We had our 50th wedding anniversary in March this year. We've had a happy, successful marriage, and we're still in good health with the exception that Mattie cannot use her fingers well anymore. She was a pianist as a youth and gave many recitals. I couldn't play a note but she didn't care because she could make all the music that was needed in our home. And it was beautiful music!

  The piano that she used is still in the living room. I remember when she would go there and Began playing. Sometimes she would play for hours. I would stop what I was doing and listen. Listening to her play was like taking a slice out of Heaven.

  Every once in a while I'd go to the piano and try to pick out a tune. Even a note at a time was difficult for me. Mattie would look at me and smile. Once I tried to take piano lessons. This didn't work. I just couldn't make my fingers do what they were supposed to. My mind was able to play the tune, but I couldn't transfer what was in my mind to the keyboard.

  As her arthritis became worse she eventually needed to stop playing. I could see the sadness in her eyes when she would look at the piano and make a wish. I don't think any of her wishes came true. She wouldn't complain.

  One day, as I was trying to pick out a tune, I heard her say, "I wish you could play." Her words had not been intended for me to hear, but I did hear, and my heart grieved.

  I wondered if I could do something about learning to play. One day when Mattie was seeing her sister in Albany for a few days, I visited a piano teacher. "I would like to learn how to play the piano," I said. Miss Johnson, a nice lady, replied, "learning to play for a beginner is very difficult. Do you want to do this badly?" I replied, "I cannot tell you with words how badly!"

  Ms. Johnson said, "I know a Wilma Wilson, who may be able to help you. I'll give her a phone call about what you would like to do. Here is her number, do call her tomorrow."

  I did call Ms. Wilson the next day, and she invited me to see her. "I am a hypnotist," she said. "It may be possible for me to hypnotize you in such a way that you will be able to play a musical piece as beautifully as any artist could do. The method is called, post-hypnotic suggestion. Would you like to try?"

  I responded yes.

  She asked if I had a piano and I responded that we did. She asked that she visit with me at my home to see whether she could hypnotize me into playing a musical piece. We agreed that she would come the following day.

  When the doorbell r
ang, I opened the door quickly and ushered her into the living room. At her direction, we sat together on a stool at the piano. Then she began talking to me and told me not to respond but just listen. As she spoke, I began to feel sleepy and soon I was in another world. Vaguely, I knew that she had turned on Youtube on the computer and was playing Moonlight Sonata. When she woke me, she told me that I had been hypnotized to play this tune. I would need to hear someone ask me to play using the exact words, "Matt, play Moonlight Sonata for me."

  I asked Ms. Wilson what she you would charge for what she had done and she said there would be no charge. If she could make my wife a little happier, that would be all the pay that she would need. And she said she'd be happy to do it for me again with other tunes, if I wanted.

  When Mattie returned from her trip, she excitedly told me about how she and her sister had had amazing adventures together in Albany. I couldn't wait for her to finish speaking since I wanted to see whether what Ms. Wilson had hypnotize me to do would actually work. Finally there was an opportunity.

  I asked Mattie to sit with me at the piano. She did, although she was puzzled as to why I had asked her to do this. "Mattie," I said, "Would you please ask me to do something."

  "Of course", she said. "What would you like me to ask."

  "Please ask for me to play Moonlight Sonata for you." She looked at me and smiled. "When did you begin