Home   >   Feature   >   Piano Teeth

Piano Teeth

By on March 3, 2022

By Amanda Racanovic

Grandmother, fat and homely in her floral cotton shift, her double chin stubbled, her netted hair in curlers sat comfortably at the piano, her fingers lightly dancing over the keys. A smile sat on her lips and she allowed her eyes to close peacefully, prayer-like, her body moving
expressively with the music. Little Lola sat at her feet watching Grandmother operating the pedals in her pink satin slippers, all the time wondering if they’d slip off or get caught underneath. A quick press of the pedal now, a longer one now. The notes sank into the
floorboards and up into Lola’s small body. Lola looked up at her, azure-eyed, beguiled, and felt what must have been happiness floating along on the melody, before Grandmother abruptly stopped playing and began rifling through her music for something different. She did
this often: a quick change of mind as her mood changed, and Lola waited for her to begin again. She settled on an upbeat number from South Pacific, in stark contrast to the nocturne, and let out a little giggle.

‘Do you like this one, Lola?’ Grandmother beamed, her eyes twinkling mischievously, remembering something that only she could. She had an elephant’s memory, Lola’s father often remarked. She could remember things that otherwise would have been buried in the obscure pages of history. ‘My favourite,’ she said, pressing her dry lips together, when Uncle Donald, stiff-haired and sullen, skulked past and Grandmother switched quickly to The Wizard of Oz, singing loudly at the chorus of “If I Only Had A Brain”. She giggled again as Uncle Donald grunted sadly, and looked at Lola gleefully, her teeth small and childlike – perfectly straight and neat. Uncle Donald disappeared from the room and Grandmother switched back to South Pacific.

Lola knew the room well. Carpeted and warm from the sunlight that poured in through the windows, the pool table in the middle, the old Beale piano upright against the wall. It adjoined the laundry and the kitchen, and at the other end was the glass sliding door to Uncle
Charles’ room, as mysterious and quiet as Uncle Charles himself.

Grandmother dedicated each room to a thought, an idea that for some reason or another tickled her fancy. This was the moon room, because at night the moon would pour in through the windows in a glorious white puddle of light. Then there was the blue room, filled with tiny Chinese porcelain statues of little fishermen and petite geisha, along with an array of fairies and angels and all the pretty things that Grandmother deemed sacred. Lola sometimes imagined Grandmother sitting at the piano, singing La Bella Luna and Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, her music lit by the glow of her fairies, the white keys illuminated by the moon.

Seemingly tired, Grandmother sighed loudly and levered herself off the piano stool and shuffled to the kitchen. ‘Come on, then. Let’s have some afternoon tea.’

Lola got up and followed along behind, then sat and watched from the dining room table as Grandmother took some strawberries from the fridge. She beckoned to Lola, a bowl  of white sugar on the bench-top. Lola skipped over to the kitchen as Grandmother dipped one of the fresh strawberries into the sugar and handed it to her by the truss of the fruit, then took another for herself, dipping it delicately before bringing it up to her mouth and devouring it, sucking the little bits of green. Lola lifted the strawberry to her own lips and tasted the sugar crystals, hard and sweet against the softness of the juicy, plump strawberry. She felt the juices run down her chin as the sweetness filled her.

‘Delicious!’ Lola put her hand out for another and Grandmother handed her a strawberry. This time Lola dipped it into the sugar herself and it tasted even better.

‘It’s a fairy tea party, isn’t it? Just make sure you brush your teeth,’ Grandmother told her, and Lola grinned. ‘Look at your pretty smile. Oh … such beautiful teeth, Lola! You have to look after them.’ She patted Lola on the head. Uncle Donald lurked behind and Grandmother waved her hand at him, trying to repel him from coming any nearer. ‘Go and do something, Donald, will you?! Go away!’

He mumbled under his breath and sauntered away, and Lola grinned.

Grandmother giggled again and then chattered her teeth together.

‘What I would give for my own teeth back again,’ she said. ‘You are such a lucky little girl.’ ‘You don’t have teeth?’ Lola leaned forwards, trying to see, and Grandmother pushed the teeth out of her mouth with her tongue. Lola’s eyes widened in horror, and Grandmother pushed them back into her mouth again and giggled cheekily.

‘My Daddy got them pulled out when I turned eighteen.’ Grandmother poured the remainder of the sugar into the sugar tin and put the strawberries back into the fridge. ‘His wedding present to your Poppy.’

‘Wedding present?’

‘No more dentist visits. That way Poppy didn’t have to pay for me to get checkups.’

Lola ran her tongue against her teeth and tasted a tiny sugar crystal and she looked down quietly.

‘Let’s go and play one last piece.’ Grandmother led Lola back to the piano, her cheeks rosy red, her breathing heavy. ‘He was not a nice man, my Daddy. Never let me get piano lessons when I was a girl. But Aunt Tryphena – she used to play. She gave me lots of music. Mozart. Chopin. Bach. Brahms.’

‘Did you learn to play from her?’

‘Oh no! I taught myself.’ She smiled smugly. ‘Can’t read a note of the music, but can play by ear well enough.’

She eased herself down onto the piano stool and began playing Praeludium and Lola watched her fingers pressing the keys delicately, as light as fairies making beautiful music. Grandmother closed her eyes, and Lola felt herself disappear with her to a place of no place – of no time, where little girls with dreams danced and sang and smiled, their teeth like pearls, shining in the sunlight.

 

********

 

amandaAmanda Racanovic lives in Melbourne, Australia, with her two daughters and husband. She works with women and mothers of young children and is passionate about self-care and women’s wellbeing in nurturing and raising children mindfully.

You can connect with her on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/amandaracanovic.

About simply...woman!

We encourage spreading the message of knowledge and wisdom. We appreciate and thank our featured partners for their articles. All information provided on Simply…Woman online magazine is for reference only; the content is based on the authors’ experiences and therefore is not intended as a substitute to the services of a fully qualified professional. Although every reasonable effort is made to present current and accurate information, Simply…Woman makes no claims, promises or guarantees about the accuracy, completeness or adequacy of the information.