Narrative Intervention Practice - Keller

Keller watched the boy leave, crumpled music in hand and hot tears streaming down his cheek.

‘Good,’ he thought, ‘he need that.’

The moment Paul stepped through the door; Keller could see he had talent. Unlike his own stubby fingers, Paul’s were long and slender – any piano player’s dream. But, it was Paul’s pride that struck Keller most. It seemed to ooze from every part of the boy – from the glint in his eyes; to they way he held his music, finally, peaking, when he took his seat in front of the piano. He seemed so aware of his talent, and yet so unaware at the same time – unaware of his lack of understanding. Thus, Keller decided, that Paul needed to be re-taught. He needed to be stripped to the foundations, and built up again. And Keller would do anything to get there.

The slamming door Paul left in his wake finally stopped ringing, and Keller was once again surrounded by silence – a silence that was always polluted by the boozing and blowing that continued both day and night at Darwin’s, the Swan. Keller rose from his seat in front of the Bosendorfer, pleased with the progress he made with Paul, and made his way towards the door his angry student had just exited. On his way out, he collected his newspapers, an empty scrapbook and a grubby pair of scissors. Perching the stiff, white panama atop his glowing red face – the contrast remarkable – he turned once more towards the two instruments, and uttered it again:

‘Good. Very good.’

Closing the door behind him, Keller began his trek back to his spot on the balcony. Coffee and schnapps, newspaper ink and smudged elbows called once more. The lesson and troublesome boy a distant memory.