The House of Silence by Blanca Busquets

would say, and we did it with my left. Up and down the scale, first with him helping me and then on my own. And next week we’ll do it with both hands; just you wait, he said.
    On that day I wished the lesson could continue. Going up and down like that, if you could do it fast, had to be a real surprise for anyone listening. Maybe it wasn’t so hard to play the piano. Maybe even a Maria could do it.
    That week a lot of important things happened. The first was that I learned, very gradually, to go up and down the scale with both hands. I was thrilled. It seemed incredible, and yet I was doing it. I was overcome with emotion as I went up and down the piano.And Mr. Karl seemed very pleased too. He would clap and say, I think we’ve earned ourselves a hot chocolate with whipped cream.
    The second thing that happened was that, at midweek, the doorbell rang and—when I opened it, the opera singer was there. I mean the one with the kisses and the sofa. Before I had time to say anything, she elbowed me out of the way and went straight to the piano room. She could hear that Mr. Karl was in there practicing his music. What do you think you’re doing? I started to say. And Mr. Karl also started to say, What do you think? And here is where it all ended—because that day there was no kiss—instead there was one of those smacks that was so loud it echoed through the whole neighborhood. Mr. Karl was shocked. And the woman had the gall to say, before leaving: So you just wanted me for the opera. And she left with her head held high, wiping away a tear that I saw, even though she tried to hide it.
    The third thing was that my boyfriend kissed me. He filled my mouth with the taste of smoke, a taste I wasn’t sure I liked—but, after all, it was still the taste of a kiss like the one between Mr. Karl and the opera singer. I felt like he was sticking everything inside me, and I didn’t know if I could breathe or not. And then he smiled at me with his two missing teeth and asked if I’d liked it. And I said yes, because there was nothing else I could say. And then he walked me home, wrapping his arm around my shoulders. And I slipped my arm around his waist. And when we got home he kissed me again before saying goodbye.
    I opened the door and I found Mr. Karl there with a strange expression on his face, one I didn’t know how to interpret. You have a boyfriend. I saw him through the window, he said. Yes, Ianswered, realizing that there was no way I could deny it. Mr. Karl passed by me before heading off to his bedroom, where he usually never went unless it was time for bed. And, before he disappeared up the stairs he looked at me and he said, because you are very pretty. Very.
    As soon as he was gone, I ran to look at myself in the mirror. Having Mr. Karl say that to me was as if there’d been an earthquake and suddenly all the birds in the trees of that park had flown over to land on my head and all started chirping at the same time. I stared at myself for a while and, on that day, I found myself lovely too.

Anna
    The first look from Mark at the start of the concert leaves me indifferent. But Karl’s first look went straight to the depths of my eyes. It hurt, and it had been a long time since anyone had hurt me. Come in, he said in that strange language he spoke, a mix of equal parts Catalan, Spanish, and German. I followed him to a room where he had his piano. Along the way we passed Mark. He was nobody, just a boy who wasn’t even thirty, who was still studying conducting and living off of his father’s success. He said hello and disappeared. I didn’t see Maria that day; she must have had it off, because when she was there you found her around every corner—like now, because that woman is like the plague.
    Karl sat down at the piano and told me to play while he played the other violin’s part, the one Teresa played, even though I didn’t yet know that she was the