Into the Night

She got up and went over to the piano. Leaning over it standing up, she took one finger and started to tap out the notes on the keyboard. She shook her head dizzily, as if to clear it of the disharmony, and started over again. Shook her head again and stopped.

“What’ve you got here?” she growled. “This stuff doesn’t even jell.”

A sudden thought occurred to her. “Maybe I’m holding it upside down,” she remarked, and reversed it on the music rack. Then she turned it back again. “No, the clef signs are all pointing this way.”

She gave Madeline a long, skeptical stare. “Didja ever study composition?” she demanded.

“Not exactly,” Madeline said. “All my friends say it comes naturally to me.”

“Oh it does?” Adelaide snapped. “Well, take my tip and send it right straight back again. I don’t know what it is you’re getting, but it sure isn’t music. I think it’s the Morse code in Slovakian.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you don’t know the least thing about music,” Adelaide snapped. “You think all you have to do is throw a handful of notes on the page and they come out a song. That’s not the way it works, any more than you can throw paint on a canvas and get the ‘Mona Lisa.’”

“I worked hard on that song,” Madeline protested.

“Oh yeah? The way it looks to me, you don’t know what hard work is. I knew a man once who was a physics teacher. He said there’s a formula for work. I said sure, two parts elbow grease and one part sweat. But he told me the formula and it stuck. You know what it is?”

Madeline waited.

“Force times distance. In other words, it’s not just how hard you push something. It’s also how far you move it. If you push with all your strength against a wall, and it doesn’t move an inch, you haven’t performed any work And this” — she brandished the score sheets — “this doesn’t move anything. It certainly doesn’t move me.”

“I don’t understand,” Madeline said. “When you talk about walls—”

“You’re beating your head against one,” Adelaide said briskly, “if you expect to get anywhere with this. And you’re wasting my time.”

It’s your song, Madeline told herself. You’ve got your whole life tied up in it and this woman just told you it’s no good. This is your chance. If you can’t win her with the song, win her with the way you feel about it.

She willed her face to sag in disappointment. “I’m very sorry,” she said stiffly, reaching to gather the score sheets and take them from Adelaide. “I certainly had no intention of wasting your time.”

She walked to the door, turned the knob, drew it open. She turned, looking on the verge of tears. “Thanks anyway,” she managed, her voice breaking on the second word, and then she was through the door and drawing it shut behind her.

A moment or two passed. She heard the knob start to work around, as the door was about to open once more. She quickly planted her forearm against the wall and buried her face in it, in an attitude of crushed, heartbroken youthful despondency. She even made her shoulders quiver a little, as if with soundless sobs.

The door opened, and she knew Adelaide was standing watching her.

“Kid.” Adelaide’s husky voice softened a little. At least, insofar as it was capable of softening. “Sorry I was so rough on you, kid. Forget about it, and come on back in. I won’t buy your songs, but I’ll buy you a drink on the house. It’s a lonely, dreary Tuesday afternoon.”

Madeline slowly prepared to unearth her face and turn it, giving herself time to form a timid, tremulous smile on it. But underneath she was exultant. She was In.

Women can often form friendships with one another far more easily and far more quickly than men can. For one thing, their egos are less brittle, less ready to take offense and bridle at some misconstrued word or action. Once the pact is a fact, has been accepted, they are less inclined to stand on their dignity with one another, they show far less reserve toward one another. That is because a number of the precipitant factors producing this are lacking. They are seldom if ever financially jealous of one another per se, and by the same token are apt to be more trustworthy financially with regard to one another. The throat-cutting urge of business is lacking.

It was pity that opened Adelaide to the possibility of friendship with Madeline, pity combined with the guilt she felt over her outburst. But pity and guilt can only sustain a relationship for a certain amount of time before the object of pity becomes the object of resentment for having burdened the other party with an unpleasant emotion. In this case, the two women moved quickly past the stage of pity and guilt to the foundation of a deeper relationship.

Madeline realized, as she came to know Adelaide, that she filled a need the other woman had for a friend. She was someone to talk to, someone to confide in. At the same time, she was someone to lead and to instruct, someone to whom Adelaide could feel superior.