The Pianoplayer: A lesbian love story

21.

Two weeks had passed when Adolé headed with her bicycle unerringly towards a small unknown studio on Sylt. It was early in the morning. The autumn sun was still low and so Adolé was blinded by the morning sun.

Adolé loved this island and had made it a condition to Roswitha, as a condition of her final agreement to this final phase of work with Michelle, that she book this cosy studio to work in peace on the one track that was so important to the whole project.

Roswitha had tried to change her mind, pointed out how remote this studio was and how unlikely it was that it would be available at such short notice. In the end, however, she agreed to give it a try and promptly booked the recording studio a short time later. Roswitha immediately got down to business and booked it for two weeks. That should probably be enough.

Adolé was happier about that than she was willing to admit. She needed a certain relaxed atmosphere to be able to work creatively and Sylt was for her the epitome of relaxation and recreation. Sylt was her soul place and especially now in autumn it was beautiful. As often as she could, she tried to go to her house a little outside between Kampen and List to find distance to her crazy everyday life in show business.

She loved this unique energy on the island.

When she found the house and immediately fell in love with it, it was a bargain by Sylt standards. She didn't know at the time that Kampen had a reputation as a trendy resort that attracted all would-be residents and anyone who thought they were wealthy or important enough, like moths to a flame. Seeing and being seen was really not Adolé's cup of tea. She was therefore glad from the very beginning that this small Friesian house, hidden in the gentle dunes of the northern Sylt, had a sufficiently large plot of land including a fence.

She had fallen in love with this refuge right on her first visit. Especially the secluded garden with an unobstructable view of the North Sea was a special plus. Because it was only her holiday home for a few short days a year, she appreciated the view, the private ambience and the possibility to withdraw there undisturbed.

That paid off now, she could at least sleep in her own bed and stay in her own four walls during the stressful time in the studio. This was far more than she could claim most other times of the year. Although she loved touring and was now used to spending her time in the better homes of Germany and the world, the more precious were the moments she could spend in rooms she had chosen and designed herself. There was just nothing like a real home.

She was glad that she could at least include this compromise in her arrangement with Roswitha and that the recordings were now at least at a place of her choice. Roswitha had not been prepared to make any further concessions either, because she too wanted to bring this tiresome affair to a speedy and final conclusion without any further ado.

Although she found her original idea of bringing together two world stars of completely different musical genres and seeing what spectacular things develop out of it, still creative and surprising, outstanding and overly promising, even she had to admit that the choice of the French piano player had at least been unfortunate, if not a fatal mistake - even if one could not have foreseen this in advance. In retrospect, at any rate, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong.

Adolé had come to terms with the fact that she would see Michelle again and decided to make the best of it. She couldn't help it anyway. She would behave professionally and make these last few days as short and effective as possible so that she could finally find the conclusion she wanted - for herself and her project. Afterwards she would look ahead and devote herself to other topics. Life went on. After all, this undertaking had now lasted much longer than planned and, above all, had robbed her of much more energy than had been expected. It now simply had to be brought to an end and then each of her ways went anyway. She knew that Roswitha, too, would make three crosses when the topic was finally finished and she could concentrate on other core tasks as manager of Germany's superstar number one.

She rode her bicycle further up a long driveway lined with lime trees and a little later turned into a farm surrounded by fields. It was precisely this spaciousness, which was seldom found in certain areas on Sylt, that gave this estate its flair. Adolé took a deep breath and with one hand pushed her coat up to under her chin. It had become cool, especially here by the sea. She braked, dismounted and leaned the bicycle against the wall of the house.

The two composers and some of the musicians she knew were already standing in the courtyard. They greeted each other warmly and were honestly looking forward to seeing each other again. In one of the former barns was the studio, which, although a little smaller than usual, was one of the best in Germany. After short conversations the group started moving towards the recording rooms.

Adolé was one of the last to enter the room. At the same moment she saw Michelle, who as usual was sitting sunburnt on one of the bar stools in the back, studying a score. She looked up briefly. Her gaze remained frightened for a few moments at Adolé when she recognized her in the crowd of people coming in. Without greeting, she immediately turned back to her notes.

"Well, this can get better. "it flashed through Adolé's mind. But she was determined to behave professionally and to perform this one piece of music with dignity and decency, even if the sight of this stubborn keyboard player made her feel like a completely different emotional outburst.

She approached them with a quick decision and greeted them coolly but politely. "Hello, Michelle. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad that we can record this last piece together," and was aware that this reception contained one or two points - that she was here and that they would record something together. Yes. At last!

Without waiting for a reaction, she turned away and left her coat at the cloakroom. Meanwhile she felt Michelle's gaze in her back, but she was not impressed. She went over to the rest of the musicians and secretly wished that Michelle would behave like a normal person once, just once, and just come over to them and exchange casually with them like everyone else did. After all, they knew each other. Inwardly she shook her head once again, resignedly. What was waiting for her there?

Of course Michelle didn't do her that favour. As always, she did not feel part of the ensemble and preferred to sit in her corner next to the piano, obviously busy studying the composition to be recorded. At least she lifted her head when Adolé came over with the musicians at some point and they slowly started to try out first sequences of notes and discussed how they wanted to put on the song. She even sat down at her grand piano without comment and contributed several key sequences to the general rehearsal. Slowly a c

ommon work developed, which worked better than Adolé had imagined.

So the morning passed, the noon with a little refreshment and the afternoon, when coffee with little treats was served with Adolé's greatest pleasure. Towards the evening, they were already a big step in the right direction.

The next few days were similarly remarkably calm and without incident. Michelle's and Adolé's eyes met here and there rather unintentionally, but Adolé refrained from further deepening the exchange.

When they were almost finished with their title piece after about a week, Adolé invited everyone to a nearby restaurant in the evening. Surprisingly, Michelle also accepted the invitation and arrived punctually at the described place. She sat across from Adolé and her eyes met again and again during the evening. Adolé could feel her pulse quickening and becoming warmer than usual for simple dinners. She hated herself for it and cursed that Michelle still had this effect on her.

Michelle occasionally even took part in general table talk. Adolé was surprised how well the Frenchwoman could behave all of a sudden.

When the cosy meal was over and the general mood was for departure, it was Michelle who helped Adolé into her coat. Surprised, but politely distanced, Adolé thanked Michelle, who smiled softly and took note of the thanks with a nod. Adolé felt something stirring in her. Shouldn't her feelings for Michelle still have become less? Adolé did not want to allow this thought to enter her mind, and he already wanted to put it aside. It had really happened enough now. Just the thought of it was ridiculous.

Outside in front of the restaurant they said goodbye loudly and emotionally. Probably this day would be one of the last they needed for their common work on the CD. Especially the two composers had finished their work and said goodbye until the next time.

Maybe there were still little things to arrange in the studio and at the end a big farewell evening with the musicians, but all in all their work and cooperation was now as good as done. It spoke for Adolé that each of the musicians took her personally in their arms and thanked her with a handshake and said goodbye to her. Adolé gave each musician a heartfelt hug. She knew that the band's skill and flexible willingness to step in had saved this unfortunate undertaking and was the only reason why they were still in the band at all. The public would believe that the main work and the greatest influence on this work was Michelle and Adolé - but there they were wrong, and Adolé knew this as well as anyone else.

So Adolé thanked each of the musicians and assured them that they would of course be booked again for their next CD. In the end the last musician had jumped into one of the taxis and so she suddenly stood alone with Michelle in front of the restaurant where they had spent this beautiful evening. She shivered when she realized that she probably had to talk to Michelle now.

She turned around and there was Michelle standing there, wrapped in a thick coat and looking at her through her tinted glasses without any recognizable facial expression. It took a while before she broke the silence and formulated a first sentence with her French accent: "The musicians obviously like you. “. Thick wafts of mist accompanied what was being said. It had become even colder.

Adolé could not leave this template unused: "Yes, even if this is not comprehensible to you: if you are nice to people, they are nice to you in return. That's a very crazy concept. You should try it sometime."