Mrs. B's Studio

I think it's happening again. I could have sworn the ink was dry and the divorce was final but yet again,...She asked and I could not decline. This woman is like a (grand)mother to me! Besides I do still love him (even though I can't stand him sometimes, I mean, most of the time).

I stuck my head into the door of the barbershop hoping not to be bombarded by the lustful stares of a room full of old men. To my surprise, there were only two people in the room. (Well, it was after hours, now that I think about it.) The men who obviously were engaged in a conversation they didn't want to share quickly stopped talking and turned to face me. So, I smiled and said, "Hi. I'm looking for Mrs. B. Is she here?"

The chubbier of the two responded, "Yeah, she's upstairs in the studio. Go back out, around, and up the stairs on the side."

I turned and frowned once I was sure the men could no longer see my face. Shoot! It's cold outside. I thought to myself. And I'm already sick! The cold air hit my face like a brick before I'd even cracked the door.

I scurried around the building and almost tripped up the uneven and poorly assembled stairs when I was met by a man and his wife. He looked at me as though he was trying to hold in a laugh.

"These stairs'll get you if you're not careful!" was my feeble attempt to save what was left of my 'cool.'

He nodded in agreement and chuckled to himself while his wife flashed a toothy grin as they passed me. It seemed like the stairs went on forever but I finally reached the top and turned the knob. I was greeted by what seemed like fifty young children but in actuality, was only about ten. I found Mrs. B sitting by one of the ten scolding him for not practicing. She looked up just as I thought to sneak by the door so I could get a better look at the studio.

"Hey! I'm so glad you came! This is Ms Nikki, children. She came to help us! Aren't you glad she's here?" she exclaimed to the nine. The tenth had found something more interesting to entertain himself with (the spider that crept from under the piano he sat in front of). She called to a little boy sitting quietly near the back of the room. "Vic, grab you book and come with us."

We turned down the short corridor and she continued. "You can take Vic in the practice room and work with him until it is time for his lesson. He'll show you what page he's on." I smiled in an effort to conceal my true feelings. 'Okay. Here we go.' is what I thought but, "Okay! Works for me!" is what I said....

Eight students later, I realized something. I had been drafted...again.

Mrs. B turned to me with delight all over her face. "Have you ever thought about teaching piano lessons?"

Stunned and perplexed, I paused because I knew the truthful answer to that question. "Yes, I've thought about it but not too seriously I suppose."

She grinned. "See, now I can take on more students and let you branch off with some. You can charge however, whomever, and whatever you want! You can make money!"...

I told Musik, he could have everything-- the house, the car, the time share, and even the kids! But he's apparently the 'If I can't have you, no one else will.' type of guy. I've done all I can to seperate myself from him (figuratively and literally) but...

I shut off the lights in the studio's back room and we made our way towards the door. Mrs. B was just about done telling one of her many stories about life as a piano teacher and Mr. B followed closely behind. We made our way down those troublesome stairs and before we departed, I reassured her.

"Thank you, Mrs. B! I'll see you at the same time next week!"