"The Resting Place" - Fiction

This is a fictional piece that I wrote on euthanasia. It was fun to do the research on pianos as I had never realized there were so many.  

The Resting Place –

He remembered that it was in Tokyo that it became clear. He had performed Liszt’s “Grand Galop Chromatique”, which he considered one of Liszt’s more technical pieces and sat on the stool as the applause grew from the audience. The emperor had come to the Opera City Concert Hall to hear him play and they had brought in a Bosendorfer piano just for him. He had performed here many times and had many people who loved his interpretation. But he felt something was different as he reached for his crutches and stood to acknowledge the applause. He took three bows then moved to the wings. His wife was waiting and when he looked in her eyes he could tell that she knew. It had been six years since he learned that he had diabetes, but now it was clear that they both knew it was affecting his performance.

They had met years ago when he was playing piano in an Inn for his college tuition. He remembered when this girl had put her rum and coke on the upright and leaned there listening. What he saw was dark brown shoulder length hair, blue eyes, clear skin, a pale blue sleeveless sheath, long legs and high black heels. When he finished the song she leaned down and kissed him right on the mouth. He had this straw boater with a hat band that read, “Kiss me if you like Cole Porter songs”. This was the first time it had worked. He decided to take a break and moved over on the bench to make room for her. She sat, back to the piano facing him with their hips warm and touching and said her name was Sarah. They talked till the calls from the crowd lured him back to playing. He had done a gig for her sorority and she had come up weekends. In August they were married.

He moved on to the conservatory and started touring. Figuring their life on a poor musician’s earnings they decided against children. He gained a reputation and she was with him as he toured Madrid, Paris, London, Berlin, Milan, Moscow, Cairo, Cape Town, New Delhi, Beijing, Tokyo, Lima, Buenos Aires and around the US. It had been a good life as he played for enthusiasts, princes and politicians. But it had not been good for his health. Treated as a celebrity there had been cocktail parties, galas, fetes, elegant dinners, good wines, and stays in fans houses where they were pampered and stuffed; it had all been difficult to resist. His habits turned gluttonous and sybaritic and over time he added seventy pounds. They stayed late at post concert parties and had little time or desire for exercise.

He began to notice advancing fatigue, a strong thirst, and then more serious was some blurred vision. It had taken some time before he got help and learned about Type 2 Diabetes and been told he had to change his habits. There would be blood sugar tests, blood pressure and cholesterol monitoring, many smaller meals per day, even warnings against pedicures and a recommendation not to go barefoot. He fought the control and the need to change his lifestyle. He bought a meter, but hated pricking his finger as his hands were so vital. A callus developed under his big toe, but he didn’t really feel it so ignored it. Later he would remember they had said to take special care of his feet; to check them daily and to use a mirror to scan the bottoms and your hands to feel for hot or cold spots, bumps or dry skin. He hadn’t had the time for that so the callus blister grew and festered. At a regular check up they found the infection, but it was too late and the only solution was amputation. They warned him that people with diabetes and peripheral vascular disease were at major risk, but he had defied the odds and stayed alive. They gave him medicine to treat his diabetes whose side effects were later found to affect vision. He had dropped it as he noticed his vision fading.

On the concert tour, years before the Tokyo concert, the evenings had been busy but the days open so they started to walk the back streets and bazaars looking for people’s art. The walls of their Fifth Avenue apartment filled with pieces their friends loved, so Sarah started “Alignments” in a small gallery in Soho. It had been a huge success with her openings each fall being the must for the glitterati. She added fabrics; beautifully colored African pieces, soft tweed from Ireland, brilliant silks from India, subtle designs from Japan, rough weavings from Peru. They expanded twice and as his concert career slowed made dedicated buying trip to dozens of countries. This shared project with comfortably combined individual tastes had brought them discovery, excitement, fun, and renewed and strengthened love.

After they had been married for thirty five year Sarah was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. He had lain besides her comforting her in her pain until Hospice had come to take her through the final hours and he had stood by helplessly. It had devastated him, he missed their morning planning sessions, their brushes as they passed during the day, their nightly review before sleeping and her soft skin, warmth and measured breathing when he woke during the night. They had grown so close. He then had sold the business, cleaned out the warehouses and moved to a smaller apartment with just a few of the pieces to remember her by. For five years he had battled loneliness, the problems of the loss of his foot and most of his eyesight from advancing diabetes. There was an emptiness he could not fill. It left him depressed and confused as to what to do with the rest of his life.

He had been surfing the internet looking for answers when he found “The Resting Place” and it seemed to be just what he was looking for. It was in the Berkshires which brought back good memories of classes he had taught at Tanglewood for a couple of summers. He called and talked with their “Procedures Office” and arranged for a cottage with a concert grand piano.

There were so many truly great pianos that he had found in concert halls all over the world; Steinways, Baldwins, Bosendorfers, Yamahas, Kawais, Grotrains, Becksteins; each with its own particular power, tone and feel. But when playing Liszt in Berlin on the Bosendorfer he knew that he had found the piano to match his technique. The “Imperial” with its full 97 key keyboard and rich tone was pure and solid and his fingers just seemed to glide on the keys with perfect harmony. It was the highest quality concert grand, but would they supply one for his cottage? Imperials new were over $175,000 (an American Glass artist had one specially built for $1.2 million) and the rental was for more than $1,000 per day. But they worked it out; one was sent there and brought in through the double doors of the small living room in the cottage. Playing it again would be perfection; just what he wanted to do one more time in his life.

Now he had come there to stay. When he saw the piano he ran his hands lovingly over it, lifting the lid and testing the sound. It was just what he had remembered. He wanted to play Liszt once again, but knew his hands were not up to “Grand Galop Chromatique”, the “Three Funeral Odes” were too somber, but he thought he could do pieces of “Sonata in B Major”. He considered it Liszt’s supreme masterwork for the piano although it is said that Brahms fell asleep while listening to a performance.

He heard them coming down the narrow stairs of the cottage. He pushed the wheel chair to the concert grand ready to play. His eyes were not good enough to read new music, but he had a hundred scores in his mind. Though he sensed more than saw that they had entered the room he began to play the sonata. He knew they would just stand patiently waiting. The music swelled and bounced off the walls to surround him. Immersed he kept on to the final coda and only then sat back contented.

“How are you today, Sam?” They always used the personal rather than the more formal Mr. Fisher”.

“Fine.”

“Do you find yourself ready now?”

This was what he had come here for. It had been a full week of preparation. He had talked to his few remaining relatives and friends. The accountant had transferred the $100,000 service fee; the lawyer had completed all the necessary documents. He had met with their psychology and religious counselors. Every step had been reviewed and his desires had been fully respected. It would happen here in the cottage with only two members of the staff present. Notifications were ready for the press with specific contact names and numbers listed for each. Logically, all was in place, but still he hesitated in front of the piano. Should he play one more piece? Should he go outside one more time to breathe the fresh country air? Should there be one more phone call? He decided “No”, but yet he did not move and they waited for his word.

Then he answered, “Yes.”

He felt hands on his wheelchair, gently turning it toward the bedroom. Now they would follow the steps in what they called, “The Completion Phase”. He had thought that to be a little inhuman, but had searched for a better name and nothing came to mind. They had put so much thought into all the rest, perhaps even they had to push down the emotions at they participated, thus forcing this sort of scientific description.

They lifted him and placed him softly on the bed. Soon it would be over. Images floated in his head of those who would receive the news, how they would react, was there really life after death? He had long ago discarded that idea for an “ashes to ashes” approach, but still found himself wondering. He wasn’t exactly nervous, but his mind was not yet settled. He took in two deep breaths in the thought that that would lead to the mood he wished to achieve. There was no hurry; they were just standing by ready with the needle for the anesthetic to put him to sleep and then a second to end his life as he knew it.

Again, two deep breaths and without looking up he said: “Proceed.”

I had once met with friends to throw around an idea of what an euthanasia clinic would have to be like so this is some of what we came up with. I have him here at the last moments without any relatives or friends as this is such an intensely personal decision, taking great strength. Would love your comments.