He was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Yes," he finally admitted. "I guess I've just been ...afraid."
"There's nothing to be afraid of," Vera said, for she knew that he had lost confidence in himself. "You can start off little by little, taking baby steps, and gradually build up your strength ...and your courage." She looked at him. "Just a little bit at a time."
Misha smiled. "You're not going to let me get lazy, are you?"
"Nor will I allow you to indulge your fears," Vera said. She took a sip of her brandy and set the glass down on the table. "Why don't you try something now?" she said.
"Now?" Misha said, his eyes widening. "But ...but Vera, I ...I—"
"But nothing," she said. She looked at him with a mischievous smile. "Your fingers can move quite nicely, I've noticed."
Misha grinned. "Do you think ...?"
"I know," Vera said. "Come on. Get up. Let's go to the piano." She stood and extended a hand to him.
Misha set his drink down and took her hand. He rose slowly to his feet, and together they walked over to the big Steinway grand. He sat down on the stool, adjusting it slightly, and looked at the piano, then up at Vera.
"Where do I begin?" he asked.
She stood at his side, one hand on his shoulder. "Play something for Serena," she said. "A quiet good-bye, Misha."
He looked down at the keyboard, his shoulders slumped. "I don't know, Vera," he mumbled. "I just don't know ..."
"A nocturne," she said. "Play a nocturne for Serena."
"Serena hated nocturnes," Misha said. "They made her sad."
"It's appropriate," Vera said. "A simple nocturne. She would understand, I'm sure. It's a good way for you to start again. To work your hands."
Misha looked at her doubtfully, then looked back down at the keys again. He sat for a moment, silent, then slowly positioned his hands over the keys. Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, he began to play.
Chopin filled the vast living room with its sweet sadness, its melancholy strains a fitting good-bye, a reminder of what once was but could be no more. As he played, tears began to fill Misha's eyes. Tears for Serena, tears for himself, for Vera and Nicky and their families.
When he finished, he sat for a moment in the flickering light of the fire, then got to his feet and put his arms around Vera, his head resting on her shoulder, and she cradled him there, stroking his raven hair silently, feeling his grief, his pain, sharing with him this sad goodbye, yet revising to give up hope for tomorrow, for their family, for their love, and for the joy of life itself.
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