The Loan · The Long Way Down to Morning · Pulse Beat
The first violin had cost more than her father earned in a year, so it was not hers; it was the bank's. Her father had been a clerk at the port and signed the loan papers at a table in a hot office…
The first violin had cost more than her father earned in a year, so it was not hers; it was the bank's.
Her father had been a clerk at the port and signed the loan papers at a table in a hot office with a fan that did nothing. He read every line twice, because he read everything twice. "Eighteen thousand," he said, "and twelve years to repay. If the girl is good, it will be a good loan." And he laughed, because he never wanted her to see him afraid.
He died when she was seventeen. The loan was still eight years from done. Her mother took in sewing, and Anika played at weddings on Sundays, and nobody in the family ever said, in her hearing, that she must succeed so the sacrifice would mean something. They did not need to say it. The violin, in its black case in the corner, said it all day long.
That was the weight on the third finger. She knew it by the second week of the shaking.