Luke: Part II

My brother and I took piano lessons for eight or more years, and, though we enjoyed making music, we hated attending the annual recitals. For our certain piano teacher, the recital would fall every year in December on our mother's birthday. None of us wanted to spend that day (or any day) sitting around for a couple of hours in stuffy clothes listening to a little kid plunk out the notes to "Swing Low Sweet Chariot". Our teacher was also a classical voice teacher, and you could be sure that some young girl would be singing "Wouldn't It Be Loverly". All of this was endured for only ten minutes of Luke and I screwing up a song we had practiced perfectly for months just because our hands were shaking.

Our story takes place on one of the recital days, and...needless to say, we were dreading the night. Luke and I had just finished some class of ours, and our only choice was to change into our suits in the bathroom because there was no place to change at the Steinway Hall where the recital was being held. As I walked out of the stall (looking fabulous in my spotless suit and pink tie, I might add), I heard a sharp gasp from the other stall.

"Oh, no..." Luke muttered, "Mom is going to kill me..."
"Did you drop your tie in the toilet again?" I asked.

With a sigh, Luke stepped out of the stall, complete in his suit--but with a frown on his face. Before I could ask, he pointed down to the ground, and I laid my eyes upon the horror of his suddenly incomplete outfit. He was missing a sock. Mom was going to kill him. I tried to act like no one would notice, but his dress pants were too short, and his barefoot-dress shoe look was quite obvious as compared with his other lone sock.

"What are we going to do?" he asked me, aghast with remorse.
"We? We are going to go to the recital. Don't worry, mom won't notice."
"Do you know our mother?! It's all over, Matthew!"

After much complaining, I got him into the car, and he drove us to Steinway Hall in a pensive silence. He acted as though he was driving to his own execution. When he parked, he took one look down at his sockless ankle and looked back to me as I reached for the handle to my door. Just as I was about to open it, the locking sound of the car doors reverberated in the small space. I glanced back to Luke, confused, but instead observed a strange and wild look in his eyes.

"Okay--here's the plan," he began.
"What? What plan? There's no plan!"
"No, no, just listen to me. Be cool. I have an idea."
"For what? Your sock problem? It's not a big deal--"
"You don't know what's at stake here, man!"

He immediately cleared his throat as a family walked by our car. They tried not to look at us, but we knew they had heard him yell. When they (and the awkwardness) had passed, he continued:

"Here's the plan: you give me your sock--"
"I don't like this plan."
"Listen! We've seen the order of the show, and I go first. So, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to walk up there with two socks, and when I sit back down, I'll inconspicuously take off your sock and hand it back to you for when you go up."
"That's a terrible plan!"
"Mom will never know! If we pull this off, it could be the greatest story to tell!"
"A sock escapade? That won't make a very good story."
"Just give me your sock--"
"I'm not giving you my sock, don't punish me for your bad attention to detail--"
"You'll get it back! This can work!"
"People will see us switching socks!"
"No, we're in the audience, remember? The students sit in the first three rows of the audience so everyone will be busy watching whoever is on stage!"

Eventually, the argument was harder than the act of taking off the sock so I finally gave it to him. He chuckled like a villain with a master plan as I realized that I looked very ridiculous with only one sock. Who was I kidding--mom would notice, and Luke's plan might just save us both. As we stepped inside Steinway Hall with only three socks between us, we found something a little different than what we were expecting. The students' seats were not in the first three rows of the audience like we had anticipated but...on stage--directly perpendicular to the audience where they would be able to see our ankles. I immediately looked at Luke.

"It could still work," he said instantly.
"Give me my sock."
"Our sock. And no, we're going through with the plan. All we have to do is be even more careful not to draw any attention when we're making the switch--"

Just then, we had stepped up to the stage, and we found our name plates on our seats. Mine was directly on the end of the row nearest to the audience where I would be in plain sight. Specifically my sockless ankle.

"It could still work," he said again, anticipating my words, "You just need to switch your sock so that the sockless foot is the one hidden, and then I can slip it to--"

Then, he noticed where his name plate was. Unlike the previous years where Luke and I had sat together, I was on the front row, and Luke was not behind me but on the third row.

"It could still work--"
"Give me my sock."
"The game is the most dangerous when you're closest to succeeding!"
"...what does that even mean?!"
"It could still work!"
"Give me my sock!"

We hushed our voices as a young girl took her seat in between us on the second row. I looked back at Luke with a vengeful look in my eyes as he so obviously proposed solutions in his head, staring only at his (and my) socks. Eventually, the girl left to go to the bathroom, and Luke immediately leaned forward with a--

"It could still work. All we have to do is get the help of that girl."
"What?! You don't know her!"
"Even better! There's no trail back to us! I'll just get her to fall in love with me, then she'll hand the sock to you!"
"This is a terrible plan--do not flirt with that girl! Give me my sock!"
"It could still work!"

When the girl had come back, I shot Luke death glares, hoping he wouldn't go through with his plan. However, there was no stopping Luke's plan; he already had leaned forward and cleared his throat. The girl jerked at the sound, but Luke's plan was not hindered in the slightest--he liked the element of surprise.

"So are you...new around here?" he said with a terrifying smile and a voice much lower than his own.
"In...Fort Worth?" she answered, "Uh, no, I was born here."
"Me too! That's funny!" he said right before he threw his head back with a forced, overdone laugh, "My name is Luke, by the way."
"(I can't for the life of me remember this girl's name)," she said with a hint of a smile.

Luke winked at me, and I chuckled nervously.

"You look very pretty in that dress, (I can't for the life of me remember this girl's name). I have to be honest though...I wasn't quite expecting to see someone as cute as you tonight."

She blushed.

"Tell me...do you like soc--?"
"Hey, Luke!" I shouted a little too loudly, "There's our family! Let's say hi--now! I bet they'd love to see us! Let's go over there! Immediately!"

I jumped up and pulled him off the stage as he whispered to me,

"It's working! She's putty in my hands! Now, I go in for the kill!"
"What girl would ever help you secretly exchange socks with a brother after one minute of talking?! Give me my sock."
"But Mom will see my--"
"Give me my sock!"

Somehow, just as he had convinced me to remove my sock, I did the same to him, and I retrieved my sock. I guess Luke finally realized it was hopeless, but the only thing I cared about was my sock. When we returned to our seats, the recital was about to begin, and I could faintly here Luke mutter, "It could still work." As the families took their seats, (I can't for the life of me remember this girl's name) quickly turned around towards Luke and began to play with her hair.

"So, how old are you?"
"I have a girlfriend."

Finally, the recital began, and the climax arrived: Luke played his piano pieces with one sock.

And Mom didn't notice. Turns out, she loved us enough to not worry about what we looked like, but instead, she joyfully listened to us play. We hadn't calculated love into the equation. That Mother outsmarted us again. Thank you, Mom, for coming to our recitals on your birthday.

Now that I think about it...why didn't we go to a store to buy a sock? We arrived at the recital early. We certainly could have. But I suppose that wouldn't have made a great story.

Oh--and we screwed up our songs anyway. Our hands were shaking.