Seven Touches of Music by Zoran Živković
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

An Eighth Note Rest
(Un hommage à touches musicales)

Dr. Michael had become irritated with his wife. Elizabeth had gone out again with not a word of notice. It wasn’t her bridge night. The telephone hadn’t been ringing, the usual signal of a crisis with her daughter that demanded her presence. The shops were closed at this late hour. He was understandably concerned. He couldn’t remember her ever being so,... well, so disrespectful as well as disorderly before. Lately she had been mysteriously disappearing during the day; but if nothing else Dr. Michael was a respecter of privacy. She must have developed a new interest, he thought.

As he sat with his evening tea, self-made of course given the circumstances, the front door chimes rang out melodiously, the first four notes of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. If one listened carefully, even the initial musical eighth-rest could be detected. The effect on his mood was immediate and familiar. That’s the real reason he had had them installed. They added just that tiny frisson of beauty, a sort of ritual, into an otherwise mundane event. He was proud to add just a little bit of aesthetic pleasure to the world.

Despite the hour Dr. Michael rose optimistically from his evening chair, the high-backed leather one he used for reading (he was a man of strict habits; ‘horses for courses’ was among his favourite aphorisms). Switching on the external lamp, and simultaneously turning the door handle, he pulled vigorously to reveal... well, nothing. There was no one standing in porch, no one on the garden path, and no one down the lane.

There was however an envelope on the mat. He had stepped on it as he craned out the door. It was unaddressed and unsealed. Inside was a single sheet of undistinguished note paper (‘from the local newsagent’ was his immediate thought). As he unfolded the note, his wife’s handwriting shouted at him in bold cursive: I’m off to someplace where they’ve never heard of Beethoven; someplace unpredictable. Elizabeth.

In shock, Dr. Michael could only think of one thing to do. He rang his own door bell. Then he rang it again. And again. And again throughout the night. The neighbour discovered him the following morning and called an ambulance. Not many others cared.

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