What does the piano know?

One November night, I miraculously didn't have any homework to do, reading to read, or papers to write. I didn't know how this had happened, especially given my long history of bad luck, but I did know that I had to take advantage of this wondrous event. I thought about all of the different ways in which I could spend all of this time that I never knew that I had, but in the end, the decision was easy.

I decided to spend a few more hours at the Aubergine Dream.

Despite my desire to go to the Aubergine early, I did want some company. I sent a quick email to the other members of the Guyliner Club asking them if they wanted to go to the Aubergine with me, and within a few minutes, I received the following replies.

[email protected]: I'm glad to see that you're in love with the Aubergine, Ryan, but I am very busy right now. I'll meet you there later.

[email protected]: I'm also busy.

[email protected]: I have a lot of homework, so I probably won't be able to make it to the Aubergine tonight :(

[email protected]: Ryan, please stop emailing me in the middle of Feminist Theory!

I reconsidered my options, but there truly wasn't anything better to do with my time. It would be best to go to the Aubergine without my friends. If I was lucky, Brendon would be there early too. Then again, I was never that lucky. Fate often seemed to be working against me, though I knew that was preposterous. I didn't think that I had done anything to make fate despise me like that.

I walked to the Aubergine and swung the door open. The bar was surprisingly empty, but it still seemed as if I had lucked out. Brendon was leaning against a wall, wearing a simple black T-shirt and skinny jeans. He was sipping on his drink when he noticed me entering the bar. "Hey Ryan," he said, smiling. "It's nice to see you, but what are you doing here so early?"

I shrugged and said, "I didn't have any homework tonight, and I'm honestly not sure how that happened."

"Really?" Brendon said. "As a college student, that's impressive."

"Well, Professor Leopold did tell me to practice that Schumann piece, but I don't want to do that," I said. "It's a piece of art, and I should be able to decide what sort of art I want to play and what I don't want to play."

"I can understand that," Brendon said. "There are some nice classical pieces though. I like Beethoven's Ninth Symphony."

"Are you just trying to impress me with your nonexistent knowledge of classical music?" I asked.

"Yes, but at least I'm willing to admit it," Brendon said.

I laughed and then asked, "What do you actually listen to?" I do think that someone's music taste says quite a lot about them, and I was curious as to what Brendon listened to.

"I listen to a lot of different types of music," Brendon responded. "I'll listen to anything from indie rock to hip-hop to punk. What about you?"

"I'm the same way," I said. "I listen to a lot of the Beatles though."

"That's awesome!" Brendon said. "The Beatles are great."

"I just love listening to them," I said. "There are other artists that I like, but I'll always love the Beatles."

"Me too," Brendon said. He coughed and then added, "So Ryan, how has your day been so far? As you can see, I've got a bit of a cold."

"I had Advanced Piano Studies and Great People of Mathematics today," I told him. "After those two classes, I went back to Flack Hall for a little while, and then I came here."

"Do you really have a class called Great People of Mathematics?" Brendon asked. I nodded, and he said, "I can't believe that's a real class."

"I can't believe that it counts as a math class," I said as I walked towards the piano. "It's by far the best mathematics course that I've ever taken."

"Math is the worst," Brendon said. "I don't think I've ever used a day of my education, Ryan, and I doubt you'll use yours either."

"I definitely haven't used anything I learned in high school," I said, carefully tapping out a simple melody on the piano. "We'll see about my college education."

"How did you learn how to play the piano anyways?" Brendon asked as he rested one arm on the instrument.

"My mom taught me how to play," I explained. "I've been playing ever since I was a little kid, although I've never been all that good at it."

"I think you're very talented," Brendon said.

"I don't know about that," I said. "I do love playing though. I think there's something magical about the piano in particular."

"What do you mean?" Brendon asked as he sat next to me on the piano bench.

"The piano just sits here in the Aubergine all day," I explained. "It doesn't go anywhere like a guitar or even Spencer's drum kit. It gets to see every last thing that happens here, and I suspect that it's gathered up quite a bit of knowledge because of that. This piano knows something I don't know, and I'd love to find out what that something is."

"Wow, that's a crazy way of thinking about it," Brendon said.

"I'm not sure whether you mean 'crazy' in a good way or a bad way," I said.

"I mean it in the best way possible," Brendon said, grinning and scooting closer to me.

"Thanks Brendon," I said. "Anyways, I figure that if I play enough, the piano will let out its secrets."

"What do you think the piano knows?" Brendon asked.

"I don't know, Brendon," I said. "I wouldn't be sitting here trying to figure this out if I knew. All I know is that it's something I don't know. That just begs another question - what don't I know? What essential piece of information am I missing here that the piano might happen to possess?"

"Who do you think you are - some sort of modern day Socrates?" Brendon interrupted.

I gave Brendon a soft smile and decided to answer his question with yet another question. "Don't you know who I think I am, Brendon?"

Brendon didn't seem to know how to respond, so he tinkered with the piano keys instead. He clearly had no idea what to do with them, but it was cute to watch him try. "I don't know who you think you are, but I sure am glad that you came here early, Ryan," he said. "I meant it when I said that you were my favorite person."

I blushed and said, "Are you sure?" I was certain that Brendon was joking when he said that I was his favorite person when I first met him. We barely knew each other back then.

"I'm sure," Brendon said. "You are definitely my favorite person, and it's not just because you're an unbelievably good pianist."

Why else could I possibly be Brendon's favorite person? There wasn't much about me for him to like so much. What did he see when he looked at me? What made him say that I was his favorite person, out of all of the seven billion people on Earth? On that note, who was my favorite person? I could list plenty of people that I loved, and although Brendon would definitely be on that list, I wasn't sure if he would be at the top. There were other people in my life that I cared about too. How could I rank people like that anyways, as if they were nothing more than objects that I could put on a list from best to worst?

I've been thinking too much, but is there even such a thing as too much thinking?

I eventually decided to respond by simply saying, "You're one of my favorite people too."

"Thanks Ryan," Brendon said. "You're so sweet."

"So are you," I said.

"Just out of curiosity, what's the point of all of your philosophizing?" Brendon asked. "What are you trying to get at?"

"In the end, I'm trying to answer one essential question, although I'm starting to think that I'll never be able to answer it," I said.

"What's the question?" Brendon asked, and the genuine interest and curiosity in his voice nearly melted my heart.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?" Brendon said. "Doesn't there have to be an ending to that?"

"Why am I here?" I asked. "Why am I alive, why does anything exist at all, and why would anyone care about a philosophical, meandering conversation between two guys at a bar?"

"Why not?" Brendon said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"It's the answer to your question," Brendon said. "Why not?"

"Nothing's ever that simple, Brendon," I said.

"Who says that it can't be?" Brendon said. He had a point. There was no reason why things couldn't be that easy, but in my experience, the easiest answer was rarely the right one. "Anyways, I really don't see why people wouldn't care about a philosophical, meandering conversation between two guys at a bar. I care, and I'm a person, right?"

"Are you?" I asked. "What makes a person?"

"I'm pretty sure that I'm a person, Ryan," Brendon said with a chuckle.

"There's no way to tell for sure," I said. "There's no way to tell for sure that you're real either."

"Now you're just being silly," Brendon said. "I know for a fact that I'm real."

"I'll trust you for now," I said, only because I was certain that my heart would break if Brendon was nothing more than an illusion. I was well aware that I could never prove that he was real and not just a creation of my mind, but my life was much easier if I could just pretend that everything around me was real.

I looked around the Aubergine, which was a little bit more crowded than it was before. I spotted Laura on the other side of the room, and Spencer had just walked in. However, it wasn't quite nine o'clock yet.

I glanced back towards the piano for a second. Something felt a little off, and I suspected that it had something to do with whatever the piano knew. However, I couldn't figure out what it was.

"Hey guys," Spencer said as he approached us. "What's up?"

Brendon sneezed and then said, "This might be a paradox, but I think that God is punishing me for being an atheist."

Spencer and I both cracked up. I then said, "That's definitely a paradox, Brendon. I do hope you get better though."

"Thanks Ryan," Brendon said.

"Are you still well enough to perform tonight?" Spencer asked.

Brendon nodded. "I'm always well enough to perform," he said. "You should know that, Spencer."

"Alright, Brendon," Spencer said. "I'm going to go set up the drum set. Can you two please help me?"

"Of course," I said. It was only right for me to help Spencer. He had always been kind to me, and I might as well show that same kindness back.

Brendon sighed and said, "Sure, Spencer. I'll help."

In no time at all, Brendon, Spencer, and I set up the drum set. While we were setting up, I noticed Frank and Gerard entering the Aubergine. Gerard gave me a quick wave, and I waved back. Although I had missed having my friends at the Aubergine over the last few hours, I had Brendon, and he was great company.

All of a sudden, the clock struck nine. Brendon finished off his drink, gave me a smile, and said, "We sure are in for a show tonight." At that moment, he grabbed the microphone, I ran to the piano bench, and the real magic began.