A PUFF AT A TIME

“You’re late . ”

“Sorry, Mr . Tarr, but I…” “I don’t want to hear it! You’ve already wasted enough time . Take a seat and get out your Liszt étude . ” The boy takes a seat on the cold piano bench, struggling to find his book in the mix of things . Ugh . I know I brought it . Damn . Damn! He pulls out the book but accidentally drops it under the piano . After reaching for the book, he glances up . Mr . Tarr disappeared . “Mr . Tarr?” he calls . “Mr . Tarr, I am ready . Mr . Tarr?” Ugh, every time! Where is he? Our lesson time is running out . Well, not like it matters . He wastes the whole lesson performing his Yelling Études . Hopefully that cigarette he’s probably having shows him a thing or two . Mr . Tarr still hasn’t returned after five minutes, so the boy heads out back to the patio . He sees Mr . Tarr’s husband, Jim, gardening . “Mr . Tarr, I’m ready . Mr . Tarr, where are you?” Oh god, did I wish him dead? Did that cigarette kill him? Wait, no, no, that’s impossible . I didn’t do it . I didn’t . He’s in the 30-year club for those cancer sticks . It wouldn’t be my fault anyways . Oh, maybe a new teacher is being godsent to me…

“What are you doing there, kid?” “Nothing…nothing, Jim . ” “If you are looking for Mr . Tarr, he’s somewhere being a pain in the ass . Aren’t I good with directions?” The boy heads back to the piano room . Mr . Tarr is sitting on the bench eating a donut . “Why the hell were you roaming around my house?” “I was just looking for…” “Looking for what? Some talent?” “I won’t find any here . ” “Excuse me?”

“Nothing . ” The boy sits on the piano bench . “Well…what do you want to play first?” “What should I play?” “Just take out a damn book . ”

Ugh! I didn’t practice my Starer . Calm down…calm down…he never asks me to perform that in the lesson . “You know what, why don’t you take out your Starer . I am in the mood to hear some of your rhythmic-deficient clapping and counting . You practiced it, right?” “Yeah . Yeah . ”

The boy takes out his book . “It was exercise number…85?”

“86 . ”

“Oh, yeah, yeah . 86 . I forgot for a sec . ” “Yeah, now start damn it . ” The boy begins clapping and counting the exercise . “Stop . Stop! What did you even do this week?” “I…”

“You what? If you’re gonna say you didn’t have time, don’t bother . There are sixteen hours in a waking day . If you failed to do the assignment, you chose not to do it . Nice try!” “But I had finals –”

“I don’t want to hear it anymore . We are moving on to more important things . So, how else do you wish to waste your lesson time?”

The boy holds his tongue . Mr . Tarr leaves the room for another cigarette . The boy hears him yelling at Jim . Good god . Here he goes again . Mr . Tarr returns .

“I have a question, Mr . Tarr . ” “What is it this time?”

“Is it okay if I work on the Starer exercises with Dr . Sturgletter?” “No! What? Who’s Dr . Sturgletter?” “A professor I have been corresponding with from the Peabody Institute . ” “I’m your instructor . These are my exercises that I’m assigning you . I’m the one who is going to be teaching you this material . ”

“Uh…technically they are Starer’s exercises . ” “Don’t change the subject . I am this close to throwing you the hell out of here . Since when are you working with Dr . Sturgletter? You never mentioned that!” “Yes, I did . ” “No! Your mother told me that . You didn’t even have the decency to say that yourself!” “But, what’s the differ…” “You are destroying this relationship!” “I didn’t mean to…”

“Well, guess what? The road to hell was paved with good intentions . ”

“Because…‘civil’ engineers built them?” Mr . Tarr bolts past his living room and into the kitchen, yet still close in proximity . “You know I’m just auditing a course to get more exposure . ” “You’re auditing a course? You never told me you were taking an entire course . You don’t need to expand your horizons when you aren’t even delivering at this studio! “But I’ve been…”

“Quiet . Admit you treat this studio like it’s not a school . Bet you wouldn’t neglect to do assignments for school .” “No, but…” “I’m done . Just get the hell out of my house!” “Um…but my mom’s not here yet…” The boy exits, holding back his tears . “Jim, I’ve seriously had it with him . Did you see how disrespectful he was to me?” “What did he even do? The only thing I noticed was that bulging vein in your neck when you were reprimanding that boy . ” “Don’t make me grab a taxi and leave you for the evening, Jim . ”

“I don’t think you understand…” “I don’t understand? I don’t think anyone understands me . That’s what needs ‘understanding . ’” “I’ve had it with you . Being with you is worse than dying from tertiary syphilis . ”

As Jim storms out the door, Mr . Tarr notices a piece of paper nailed to it . The letter reads:

Dearest Mr . Tarr, I am writing to you because the occurrence this morning has not settled well with me, and I feel the need to bring it to your attention . I find myself reluctant to come to the studio because of the maltreatment I receive during the lessons, which I believe undermines mutual respect and common decency . Therefore, I am leaving your studio . I am sad things are ending this way, but it is what’s best for me . P .S: As I left your home, I noticed your remote control was out of batteries . I would take a look at that .

Mr . Tarr thinks for a moment, the letter trembling in his hands; then, he heads to bed . The next morning, a new student shows up – young, unpracticed, but not without talent .

“Good morning,” the boy says . “Sorry I’m late . ” Tarr pauses, patting the cigarettes in his pocket . “Let’s get started . ”