They decided to meet later at six o’clock for the first guitar lesson. He would return home at five as daily, read philosophy and begin a nervous wait. He would wonder if he was in love. And then laugh at his absurd thought. But nothing Spinozov said would make much sense till she came.

Shimona had stepped out right after lunch when the air was warm but delicate. It complemented her summer dress of white cheese cotton that was trimmed with a knitted white lace that ran just below her bust. The dress flowed from that trimming and stopped at her upper knee. Its neck had a draw string that she had set loose so that it fell off her shoulders to reveal the secret of her shocking pink Victoria which matched her toe-nails and lips. She dressed like it was easy and yet there was always a method. Sometimes great art had that quality of deception. But then, she was art’s darling child- exquisite because she had emerged from the depths of deep suffering. And the artist too, mixing as she was her life’s colors to give the observer her peace instead of her pain. For Shimona believed that the finer lessons of life slipped right between good fortune’s big teeth and that is why people who had them missed the best flavors because they swallowed.

She would soon call her husband and tell him about Evian; of its natural beauty and how the gardens held photo exhibitions, about her meeting; of its success and the complimentary treatment, about her friend’s brother; of his fine house and strange personality. And she would assure him that she was just fine while yawning into the phone in the relief of their comfort.

Shimona found a cafe to watch and think life. When thoughts of Fabrice finally came, it was clear he was a good man who hadn’t swallowed life’s lessons but in fact, chewed them too hard. That is why perhaps, she already liked him in a way she wanted to know more. There was attraction in the loneliness of him. Yet, she was afraid of attractions. They had power over realities and beliefs. She knew it was wrong of her to even think such thoughts as a married woman. It was the conditioning she carried from her country where sitting in a cafe deepened one’s mind, while an inch of coffee in this one sucked the depth and spread it wide. In this part of the world, a relationship took its course like the river. They didn’t call it an affair- as if were cheap. They called it passion. They even called it love. And it had nothing to do with principles.

When Shimona returned to the apartment a little before six, she was fine. The thoughts had come and gone as they did when she meditated. Now she connected to her core and the first guitar lesson could begin. They settled in the spacious balcony of his room that had a beautiful wooden deck. Shimona tuned the guitar to her satisfaction. Then she let music flow to let her student know he was in capable hands. Her confidence shrunk his years. He had known nothing while she had played like a master. He was a student now.

“So what is difficult about this?” she asked him, pointing to the instrument.
“Chords changes” he was quick to answer and to the point.
She handed him the guitar and asked him to hold the chords as she named them.

“C”
His fingers struggled.
“G7”
He fumbled.
“A minor”
Easier.
“D”
He managed.
“E”
Not too bad.
“B 7”
And his fingers took forver.

She took the guitar back.
“I don’t see the problem. You know your chords Fabrice.”
Fabrice shot his eyebrows. “Do you call that ‘knowing’?! Did you not see how I can’t get my fingers to even hold B7?!”
“Oh, but you do know because you know where they are! It’s only your mind that fools you and won’t let you hold B7 or any of them faster....here, let me show you.”
She asked for a blank paper and a pen and drew a string board. She placed the drawing before him and asked him to place his fingers on the chords she called. It took him a second for each chord.
“What are you trying to say here Shimona?”
She handed the guitar back to him.
“Now play as I call them.”
He did, twice faster than the last time.
“Mais c’est pas vrai! C’est impossible!”
He was clearly shocked and she was smiling.
“What’s happening?” he asked her seriously. “I should understand your ‘mind’ theory. I study philosophy. And yet, I can’t come to think how this sudden change!”
“Oh, that’s simple again, Fabrice. You don’t understand the change because you are the change. When you move your fingers on the paper you aren’t looking at a guitar. The guitar is your mind-block. You see it more than a simple instrument. You see it as something that obstructs. But your action is intact and so is your mind.”
He kept looking at her as if she was a ghost, his blue eyes alive.
“How old are you?” he asked.
“36. But I had a good teacher, Fabrice.’
“And you learnt well.”
“So I did! Now let’s see how well you can learn...should we try that again?”
And it worked better each time. She asked him not to concern himself with the sound.
“Don’t worry about strumming. Just concentrate on your left hand and play the chords.”
He played the chords for 30 minutes, each time faster, each time clearer.
“Ok, wer’e going out for diner,” he said atleast, when they couldn’t get any easier. “And you madame professor are going to tell me more.”
“About what?” she asked crinkling her nose.
“About anything. Everything!”

It was the moment they got inside the car that she remarked,
“Who knew that you would take me to diner tonight? After that cold speech only this morning about how busy you were and that I was on my own?”
He managed a smile, a fond one.
“Oui, I admit, I am not your sociable types, as Stephanie must have told you. And of course, I did not like the idea of her friend coming over initially. But now I see I was wrong, and I also understand what my sister meant when she said you are easy to get along with.”
“Good. That I am.”
“Why?”
“Why? Do you mean how?”
“What I’m thinking is, why are you easy to get along with. How, I think I know the answer. You see, I generally don’t like people. You might have a good nature, but it won’t appeal to me. . .so why?”
“So are you expecting me to answer why? Ask one of your philosophers.”
He laughed a short, old laugh. Oh no, he said, he was only thinking aloud.

The restaurant he picked was by the lake but at a distance from the popular lakeside strip. It was not a bad choice, considering he had not made reservations; a charming restaurant with just the hint of sophistication that gave a place class despite its casualness. Shimona found it interesting to note that her host did not return smiles, that he ordered red wine with crushed ice in it, and that he refused to give the extra chair at their table to the man who requested it. He liked to shock their straight faces.
“Why did you not let him have the chair?”
“Because he doesn’t need mine. There are other tables that are free without people. Why take this one?”
“Hmmm. Why indeed?”
“Because they can’t stand my joy. They see me with a young and beautiful woman and they want to disturb. That is the deep secret of the mind. It does what is not evident to the eye.”
“So. . . do you have any idea that you sound a little....” She twists the tip of her index finger above her ear.
“No, I’m not saying this without thought. People make choices subconsciously. Envy is often at a subconscious level.”
“Maybe. But why for such a trivial matter, Fabrice? Don’t you trust people at all?”
“Do you trust people?”
“Yes. And no. But mostly yes. I don’t think that man wanted to disturb us deliberately or ‘subconsciously’”
“Then tell me, why did he come across two tables when there was an empty table right next to him?”
‘I don’t know. Probably because if he asked permission, we could answer and that table couldn’t. Maybe people, unlike you of course, like an eye contact, an interaction. . .”
“Aha!! My point exactly. He came here because he was intrigued by you!”
“Ok, maybe....so what’s wrong with that?”
“That’s the dirty human nature. Selfish. Always thinking of themselves. Why could he not think otherwise. For eg; Voila! I see two chairs. One is beside an empty table and one is beside a couple. Why don’t I not disturb the couple and take the other chair?”
“And that is why you refused?”
“Yes. So if ours was the only chair, you would....”
“I would have have said yes.”
“I see. Can we order? I’m pretty hungry.”

Her maincourse was vegetarian. And he thought she was joking when she said they could share the dessert. So she ordered exactly what he did when she knew she couldn’t finish it. When she gave him half of it even before she begun, he found it very generous of her.
“Don’t you share stuff?” she asked bewildered.
“But the portions are tout petit!”
“Alright. But why do you think its ‘very generous’ of me to give you half my dessert?”
“Because it is! Actually, to answer your question, no, I have never seen people sharing. We didn’t do it, even at home, unless we didn’t like something. But then we gave it, not shared it.”
“Fabrice, do you know why you learnt chord changes so quickly? It was because you opened your mind to a new possibility. The possibility that you could learn things other than the way you are used to.”
“I did ask you to tell me everything. . .” he said half-smiling.
She returned it generously.
“Monsieur, your mind, it is lonely when it teaches itself. When you learn alone, you can’t open up because your ego blocks you. An open mind melts the conditioning, even geographical boundaries.” She suggested them both with her hands and continued softly,
“Chords are chords because they are on an instrument. They would be lines on a paper and you would play them. What applies to the guitar, applies to your life.”
He kept still.
She kept still too.
“Shimona, I want you to know that I can’t express well. But I am truly grateful for your concern. However, I can’t change the way my mind thinks. I am happy, with myself and my philosophy.”
“I wasn’t trying to change you,” she said quietly.
“Maybe you were trying to help. . .I am one of those men that has help written all over,” he said wryly.
“A man who says he’s happy, doesn’t need help,” she teased him.
“But he needs guitar lessons for sure!” he said cornering her, in case she was moving away.

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