Loving You the Way I Do by Ron Savage

Author:Ron Savage
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Loving You The Way I Do
ISBN: 9780982636435
Publisher: Dzanc Books
Published: 2012-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Mr. Roche said, You must approach the Cello with confidence. You are the one in charge; you are her master. He said, You must be at your spiritual and physical best. There’s no other way to seduce her. No other way to coax her most beautiful melodies. That means exercise and diet, Leonard. A fat man is spiritually weak, a coward. I run five miles a day and eat nothing but fruits, vegetables, and fish. I drink no alcohol and positively no sodas. I don’t smoke, and I keep my fluids to myself. The Cello doesn’t want her smooth varnished torso imprisoned by a coward’s heart and chubby little legs. She is appalled by slovenly individuals, appalled by the very notion of them. Mr. Roche said I should model my life after the male cardinal with its muscular breast and radiant plumage and crisp cheerful song. How dull and pathetic the female cardinal is beside her master, he said. Mr. Roche believed I had to learn courage and discipline before I slipped a bow across the neck of any Cello.

I met Mr. Roche three weeks after he had moved into the building. My mother kept several extra keys for each apartment on a peg board in her office, and Mr. Roche had asked for a spare. I had gone to his apartment to give the key to him. I remembered thinking how clean he looked. His skin was scrubbed to a shiny pink. He wore a white shirt and a dark tie. His black loafers were polished. His gray gabardines had a perfect crease. He was slim and tall with dark hair cut close to his head and trimmed to bristle about the ears.

His apartment had an immaculate appearance, sterile and orderly, and it smelled of potpourri air freshener. The walls were lacquered white and the oak wood floor was polished but had no throw rugs to give it warmth. Even his furniture felt uninviting. A round glass coffee table was in front of a black leather and chrome sofa. His Cello along with a wooden straight back chair were to the rear of the living room by the window. Sunlight glared from the empty white walls and the polished wood floor and brought with it a blinding, warm feeling.

Mr. Roche guessed I was taking piano lessons. He had watched me go into Miss Sonja’s apartment on two or three occasions. He had heard my repetitive tunes on her piano. What do you think of our Miss Sonja? Mr. Roche wanted to know. Such lovely round hips, he said and invited me to sit beside him on the black leather and chrome sofa. He looked down at his crossed knee and straightened the crease of his gray gabardines with a thumb and forefinger. Then he said, And such exquisite bosoms. Don’t you think that’s true, Leonard? Don’t you think our Miss Sonja has the most exquisite bosoms you’ve ever seen?

No grown up had ever asked me about bosoms. I scrunched my brow to show Mr.

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