“That was the worst part, watching them take Mom’s piano away. Dad cried when they loaded it onto the truck. I’d never seen him cry before. He said he was so sorry, that he’d get me another piano someday. But we both knew that wasn’t true.”
She wiped her eyes with the tissue, her hands shaking.
“We moved to a tiny apartment. Then we had to move again when Dad lost his job. Then we moved here a month ago because he finally found work. Every place we lived was temporary. We never had space for a piano, even if we could afford one.”
Mr. Rodriguez leaned forward, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
“Lily, when did you last play a real piano before today?”
“14 months ago. Before we sold it.”
“14 months?”
He looked shocked.
“But you played today like you practice every single day.”
A small, sad smile appeared on Lily’s face.
“My dad drew me a paper keyboard. He measured it all out to be the exact size of a real one. He used a ruler and drew every single key. I taped it to the table in our apartment, and I practice on it every night. I do all my finger exercises. I play through all the pieces Mom taught me. But there’s no sound, just the tapping of my fingers on paper.”