The Pianoplayer: A lesbian love story

"Hello?! That's just typical!!!", thought Adolé, who was still flashing from those blue eyes and surprised at her own violent reaction to it. She tried to stop Michelle, but when she started to call after her, not a word came out. So she preferred to continue holding on to the terrace balustrade, struggling to keep her composure. The whole spectacle lasted only a few moments, then Michelle Mimieux had left the sun deck of the restaurant with a few hasty, roomy steps and was as inexistent and surreal as ever.

What remained was Adolé, who, despite the questionable attraction to her opponent, was annoyed by the request to meet her, to have followed her at all.

7.

Adolé rolled in her bed from side to side. This strange appearance of the French stubborn man was still buzzing in her memory. She couldn't help but think of her constantly. She still appreciated her apology, to which she had had little opportunity to respond before she disappeared again like a mirage.

Yet she did not understand them. "What was that all about?!". Adolé didn't understand the artificial, calculating behaviour.

Their own behaviour was rather tangible - people said what did not suit them. And if you liked something very much, you said so. All in all, everyone had to behave honestly and authentically, or they did not need to be around them at all. This was a waste of time and a waste of precious life energy for them. She had no energy and no understanding for it.

She simply had no love for people who pretended to be more than they were. Equally superfluous to her were people who lied and cheated, who could not be relied upon and trusted. She didn't want to accuse Michelle of all this, but her whole behaviour since they started this studio project together didn't seem to be on the level.­­

At least their habitus was mysterious and opaque and Adolé just couldn't make sense of it. Michelle made it much harder than necessary for her and everyone else. Even under these unusual circumstances, working together could be good, creative and enriching. A lot of fresh blood met here. But none of this was the case here.

Nevertheless, she caught herself looking at her mobile phone far too often that morning and somehow put it aside in disappointment when there was no message on the display.

She had enjoyed last night. The location was great, as well as the food, the atmosphere and her studio band, which she appreciated beyond measure. Basically the confusing performance of Michelle Mimieux was easy to get over.

With this thought she rose and went to the shower. A few moments later she was already sitting in the taxi to the studio again. A short stop at her favourite American coffee shop later she entered the rooms she knew so well and took two steps at once on her way up.

"Good morning everyone", she greeted the already fully present troop cheerfully. "Shall we get started?".

To her great surprise even the uncomfortable Frenchwoman was there, but in her own area across the hall and with her personal sound man.

Adolé took note of it with resignation, threw herself into her own work, picked up a score indiscriminately and got going. By midday they had already had some pretty good discolic rhythmic excerpts on tape, with which they spent the afternoon working on the score.

The day went by faster than expected. The next time she looked at her mobile phone to check the time, it was already half past eight in the evening. In addition, she surprisingly looked at a new text message from the same formerly unknown number from the previous evening - she had saved it under the keyword "MM" to be on the safe side.

Adolé looked around in amazement and at the same time wiped furtively across the display to read the message. What was going on now?

As casually as possible, she glanced at the two sentences of the WhatsApp message, which left her astonished: "Feel like taking a short break? I'm on the roof terrace - again. " The end of the message was a wink.

"With all this love, who can cope with these contradictory signals," thought Adolé in amazement, and briefly considered whether she should again follow this call without complaint. When her curiosity finally prevailed, she grabbed her coffee mug without further ado, went purposefully into the kitchen, made herself and her secret date a fresh latte and turned back up the stairs in the studio stairwell.

Nobody met her until she came to the glass sliding door, which, with two coffee cups full to the brim, she could only push open with her elbow.

Again she looked around searching and discovered Michelle sitting on one of the couches not far from the pool. She walked moderately towards her and sat down beside her on one of the other free couches. Without further greeting, she held the freshly brewed coffee in front of her; Michelle accepted this gesture without further nagging and took a sip of the hot beverage. She even seemed to be happy about it.

Acknowledgingly she nodded and said softly: "Thank you - just the way I like him. Not too hot, not too cold, lots of milk and no sugar."

l"m trying. That"s exactly how I like him, by the way. So..."

For a while they looked, without saying another word, at the quietly moving water of the pool, which the moonlight threw against the house wall with a soft splashing, often billowing and silvery shimmering.

Adolé could not tell how long they sat next to each other in silence and darkness. She only noticed that she felt surprisingly comfortable around the pianist, which was astonishing, because actually they didn't get along very well. Even worse, they didn't really know each other at all. And after all, this French scratching brush did everything possible to make you dislike her. But why was Adolé so mysterious. Yet she noticed this pleasant feeling that spread through her in Michelle's company.

Finally Adolé broke the silence. "They were here early this morning..." was the only thing she could think of that was still quite innocuous. Making small talk, she added, "Not that they owe me any answers. " after the fact.

"Yeah, right. I just thought I'd give it a try, start this concept early. “

Further embarrassed silence followed. Here and there they both sipped their coffee with milk. This time it was Adolé who ended their secret meeting by slowly getting up. "I must get back to the others - before they start wondering and report a missing person," she said almost whispering.

"Yeah, sure. Me too." Again, she did not look at Adolé, but kept her gaze directed without any recognizable facial expression to the lightly sloshing water in the pool. Adolé noticed out of the corner of her eye that Michelle had a long scratch on her leg that was sticking out of her trouser leg. She immediately forgot the thought, however, when she noticed a short, restrained goodbye from Michelle.

"Yes, then." Michelle said goodbye almost inaudibly and shortly afterwards she shoved a quiet "Thank you. That was nice." after that. But since Adolé didn't know if Michelle really said that or if this almost friendly goodbye was just a figment of her imagination, she disappeared without a reply. Without turning around again, she walked in the direction of the exit, slipped through the sliding door, which was still open a crack wide, back to her musicians. No one had missed her, no one noticed how she continued to follow this encounter for a long time and feverishly pondered what this again strange meeting had already

meant.