“Nice piano," I said. "Do you play?" "oh no, but Edwart does!" Eva Mullen said."A little," Edwart said sheepishly."Go ahead, play!" Eva said. She picked up the triangle that was lying on the piano and handed it to Edwart. He started banging on it. It sounded like construction work very early in the morning. "Whoops. I messed up. Let me start over," he said.He started banging again."Wait. Uh. I haven't practiced in a while. Let me start over."Edwart continued to bang the triangle. Eva closed her eyes and raised her arms, swaying rhythmically to Edwart's music. Edwart held the triangle up high, in what appeared to be a grand finish, but then he brought it down hard, hitting the top of the piano. He continued to bang the piano, putting the entire force of his slim body into each smash. The piano shook. The room vibrated. When he finished I subtly removed my hands from my ears. "I wrote that for you," Edwart murmured, drawing me close. "It's called Belle's Lullaby.”

“After dinner, Edwart took me upstairs to see his room. At the top of the stairs was a giant wooden cross."Ironic, huh?" Edwart said."Why?" I asked with trepidation, imagining that, at any second, Edwart would turn into dust, which I would then sweep up and disperse over my furniture so he would always be with me."Because we're Jewish, of course--nonpracticing.”

“As soon as we were inside, Edwart's family rushed to greet me. What seemed like thirty people circled me, chattering away. "Oh my god, you smell good.""Good smell, good smell.""(she really does smell good.)""do you mind if I put my nose right on you? Right on your arm?""More smelly smelly please.""If I could destroy every part of my brain except the part that smelled your smell, I would do it. I would do it in a second.""Let's go, Belle," Edwart whispered and grabbed my hand. We pushed through the ravenous vampires nad out the front door."So that went well!" I said outside in the U-HAUL. I sniffed my hair. I did smell good."No, no, that wasn't my house," Edwart said, starting the truck. "I don't even know those people! Sometimes I get addresses confused.”

“At the end of our visit, Fleisher agreed to play something on my piano, a beautiful old 1894 Bechstein concert grand that I had grown up with, my father's piano. Fleisher sat at the piano and carefully, tenderly, stretched each finger in turn, and then, with arms and hands almost flat, he started to play. He played a piano transcription of Bach's "Sheep May Safely Graze," as arranged for piano by Egon Petri. Never in its 112 years, I thought, had this piano been played by such a master-I had the feeling that Fleisher has sized up the piano's character and perhaps its idiosyncrasies within seconds, that he had matched his playing to the instrument, to bring out its greatest potential, its particularity. Fleisher seemed to distill the beauty, drop by drop, like an alchemist, into flowing notes of an almost unbearable beauty-and, after this, there was nothing more to be said.”

“I noticed there was garlic above the doorframe. Edwart held a stake in one hand and a 'Team Jacob' shirt in the other.”

“Muurp," muurped Edwart.”