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– I do, Iosif Seraphimovich.

I felt nothing.

Someone knocked at the door.

– Come in! – Iosif yelled cheerfully.

An angel came to us from the heavens. From the first glance I could say she was about fifteen. A light dress, rusty hair gathered into a ponytail, a pretty-looking hard case.

The teacher tapped on his little apprentice's shoulder and took a couple of sheets from underneath a pile of books.

– Hello, Iosif Seraphimovich. – She smiled.

– Hello. Would you like to play this today? It's just for your level.

While observing this gentle scene, I cursed myself inside and tried to give my pinky strength just to feel the weight of the pencil.

– Iosif Seraphimovich… Why is such a grown person learning to play?

He turned around to look at me.

– Don't worry, he isn't here for long.

I felt chills on my back. Iosif laughed again, then coughed and turned his eyes away. While he popped his knuckles in awkwardness, I noticed that they shivered frequently. How could I forget about his hands?

The heavenly creature opened her oblong box, and I heard magical double sounds again. Iosif put the sheets on a weird stand and let his apprentice make a beautiful song flow. Inside I moaned, dying; I knew I'd never play like this. I thought about just one thing – they're blessed, the children who wake up to copy scales.

Iosif's voice returned me from the oblivion.

– What are you looking at, Kamnev? You'll do it yourself now.

– Now?! Iosif Seraphimovich, are you sure?

– Don't worry, – he handed me the bow, – you'll stroke the open strings, then I'll show you a simple piece.

I was so ashamed to hold the thick end of the bow and obey my teacher. Iosif mocked me again, and I understood why. Then he gave me my colossus back and began naming notes one by one.

– D, D, A, A, now here with your index finger. No, Kamnev, that's too high. Yes, there we go. G, G, F, F, E, E, D.

I felt like a baby bird stolen from the nest. Like a child not knowing alphabet who got forced to read. The bow became my personal devil. Before this moment I never found myself in a situation where I had to hold my fingers this way, the way seemed terribly uncomfortable and ridiculous. I could compare Iosif to my executioner, myself to an unlucky throne heir, fallen under the revolution, waiting for his head to jump off his shoulders.

Iosif repeated himself over and over for a good ten minutes and pointed at certain places on the fingerboard. I felt I sweat from my efforts. The angel played in the background, waiting for me to go.

Iosif moved away, took a sheet from his pile and wrote four notes with their names on it.

– These are open strings. You'll learn them. On the back there's a description of the parts of the instrument. Here you go. The lesson is over. Practice the piece.

I gathered my stuff.

– Goodbye, Alexander Palych, – he quipped.

– Goodbye, Iosif Seraphimovich, – I threw at him and headed to the door.

The serenade flew over me, bidding farewell to me.

At home I slept, ate quickly and began practicing a piece that felt more like a mockery. Thank goodness that I remembered the approximate places where to put my left hand on. The bow rode to the left and to the right, producing screeches.

Kesha had a musical ear, that's me who wasn't lucky. I knew for sure that I was missing the spots, and I couldn't imagine how you can't miss them on a fingerboard with no frets. The guitar was much easier when I was a school student.

My mother entered the room with a glass in her hand.

– Sasha, is that you playing? I almost choked. Play in tune, – she hiccupped.

– I'm trying, mom, – I looked at her with sad eyes.

– Play me something you know.

I began playing my new roulade with pride. D, D, A, A, B, B, A. My mother stopped me.

– Who are you hoping to become? – She slurred her words. – There's no chance at all, that you'll be better than your dead brother. Do you want to play to my grandchildren? They'll get traumatized if they have such a father! – My mother laughed, then frowned again. – Sasha, do you want to be the best? You'll have to forget about food and sleep. I'll be honest with you – I can't imagine you on stage. And, anyway, it's time to go to bed.

– Mom, – I got cheerful, – I'm sure we'll find Kesha, and I'll compete with him.

– Are you going to sleep? – She spoke a bit louder.

– I am.

I left the case on the end table next to my bed. While falling asleep, I remembered about the open string sheet and got it out. Empty circles on stripes. G, D, A, E. While looking at these marks, I thought about just how difficult my path is going to be.

–

I had a dream about me being able to play well. Something happened in the end but I couldn't remember.

I saw Kesha's music theory notebook in the closet. I decided to look through it when I get home.

I learned open strings while eating breakfast. I dressed up and went to another class.

Iosif was late, so I began reading the book I always have with me. I jumped when he arrived. He ran into the dressing room, left a note in an unknown notebook and came to me.

– Hello, Kamnev. Let's go.

I had to rush after him. We got to the closed door which he opened with a key.

– Alexander, – he was cheerful, – do you know their names?

I understood him and shouted four notes in a row.

– Correct. Today's subject is first position. Can you guess what that means?

– First position? – I hoped to guess. – Iosif Seraphimovich, are you talking about politics?

That familiar thunder laughing wounded my ears again.

– I'm going to explode! Kamnev, get it out already, – he slammed my case with his hand. – Let's get into it now.

This time I learned that positions is when your left hand is placed onto different parts of the fingerboard. Iosif gave me first position notes and told me this position was the simplest one, then he showed me it by playing in it.

About twenty minutes have passed while I was busy with intonation I couldn't catch, and the angel came to me again, when time began to feel like an eternity. She played something bright and quick several times, not once, because Iosif corrected her. I listened to it for a while and it was time for me to leave.

She looked at me for a moment and grabbed her side with her hands.

– Ow, Iosif Seraphimovich, it seems my liver is out of order! Can I leave early?

– Are you kidding? We have just begun. – The teacher looked at the clock. – Alright, you can learn this tarantella at home. Will you be able to do so without me?