Read an excerpt from Beethoven's memoir, as written by Declan Gallagher, to be published when he becomes a famous pianist.
Note: Mature language and content
Now it’s eleventh grade, or I suppose Junior year, and things haven’t changed. Then came a day which began like every other ordinary, awful day. It was a Friday, and as usual I had sequestered myself in the piano room to play during lunch. It was a while before I noticed C.B. standing in the corner, but when I did notice him my stomach dropped. What could this be about? I put as much distance between our two bodies as possible, and it was then I noticed he had tears running down his cheeks. This revelation softened me, I must admit, and a conversation ensued in which he told me his dog had died recently. This revelation devastated me, and I didn’t hear most of the rest of his diatribe. That sweet, beautiful dog who used to lick my face and always wanted to sit on my lap when we were at C.B.’s house. The dog who, even after all my human friends had shunned me, still opened his mouth and lolled his tongue out at me when we would pass in the neighborhood. One more piece of my childhood, gone. C.B. waxed philosophical for a bit, I told him what he wanted to hear, and as I was making a desperate move to get back to my playing, he grabbed me by the shirt like he was Bogey and I Bacall and gave me my first real kiss. Then he ran out. I was angry. I was shocked. I sort of had a hard-on, but an angry one.
The kiss led me to tracking C.B. down the next night at a party, a situation that did not end entirely well. I’m unsure of what my intent was, showing up there. I knew I was throwing myself into the snake pit, but I either wanted to vilify C.B. for his actions, publicly, or I wanted more. Despite C.B. once again behaving like a complete dunce at the party in a well-intentioned attempt to “fix things”, we ended up sleeping together that night. It took me as much by surprise as I’m sure it did him, but it just felt right. His parents were out of town, and his sister was off canoodling for the night, so he invited me to stay with him. He was gentle, and afterward he held me all night, well into the next morning when he woke me up by shoving a piece of burnt toast in my face. He took me completely by surprise. I am still trying to process it even as I write this, and I doubt that even by the time this is published I won’t have comprehended it. C.B. showed me kindness that no one, not even when I had close friends, ever showed me. It was genuine. He was genuine. It occurs to me now that he may be the great love of my life, even if this is the extent of our dalliance. I cannot imagine what people at school will say. The rest of them don’t even know 90% of it, and hopefully it will stay that way. I wish I could live in a world where I could sit with C.B., and we could talk and laugh and he would hold me like he did last night, but we don’t live in that world. We’re in high school.
Note: Mature language and content
Now it’s eleventh grade, or I suppose Junior year, and things haven’t changed. Then came a day which began like every other ordinary, awful day. It was a Friday, and as usual I had sequestered myself in the piano room to play during lunch. It was a while before I noticed C.B. standing in the corner, but when I did notice him my stomach dropped. What could this be about? I put as much distance between our two bodies as possible, and it was then I noticed he had tears running down his cheeks. This revelation softened me, I must admit, and a conversation ensued in which he told me his dog had died recently. This revelation devastated me, and I didn’t hear most of the rest of his diatribe. That sweet, beautiful dog who used to lick my face and always wanted to sit on my lap when we were at C.B.’s house. The dog who, even after all my human friends had shunned me, still opened his mouth and lolled his tongue out at me when we would pass in the neighborhood. One more piece of my childhood, gone. C.B. waxed philosophical for a bit, I told him what he wanted to hear, and as I was making a desperate move to get back to my playing, he grabbed me by the shirt like he was Bogey and I Bacall and gave me my first real kiss. Then he ran out. I was angry. I was shocked. I sort of had a hard-on, but an angry one.
The kiss led me to tracking C.B. down the next night at a party, a situation that did not end entirely well. I’m unsure of what my intent was, showing up there. I knew I was throwing myself into the snake pit, but I either wanted to vilify C.B. for his actions, publicly, or I wanted more. Despite C.B. once again behaving like a complete dunce at the party in a well-intentioned attempt to “fix things”, we ended up sleeping together that night. It took me as much by surprise as I’m sure it did him, but it just felt right. His parents were out of town, and his sister was off canoodling for the night, so he invited me to stay with him. He was gentle, and afterward he held me all night, well into the next morning when he woke me up by shoving a piece of burnt toast in my face. He took me completely by surprise. I am still trying to process it even as I write this, and I doubt that even by the time this is published I won’t have comprehended it. C.B. showed me kindness that no one, not even when I had close friends, ever showed me. It was genuine. He was genuine. It occurs to me now that he may be the great love of my life, even if this is the extent of our dalliance. I cannot imagine what people at school will say. The rest of them don’t even know 90% of it, and hopefully it will stay that way. I wish I could live in a world where I could sit with C.B., and we could talk and laugh and he would hold me like he did last night, but we don’t live in that world. We’re in high school.