I didn’t want to hide my father’s infidelity from her, she didn’t deserve it.
MY FATHER, THE MUSICIAN BY ALEX TORNAI 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 31
The gray morning dragged a blanket of dense fog over the city, but that didn’t stop my father from whistling in the shower. His bravado echoed throughout the apartment, reaching the kitchen where his girlfriend was cleaning the dishes. She wasn’t a whistler. When she tried it sounded more like air leaving a flat tire. My father was a musician and played with several groups which met for practice at different times during the week. On this particular day, my father’s mood was unusually upbeat, considering the disdain he had for the group he was meeting for practice.
His girlfriend, Elizabeth, and I were planning on meeting him at a party later that day where he was to perform once he finished practicing with the other, less desirable group. I asked him why he didn’t like this ensemble and he replied “Because there aren’t any Hungarian musicians! Only Swiss and Germans, they’re not patient enough!” This seemed odd to m…