Suddenly, listening to Lei convey the full scope of the tragedy all on his own, everything I’d glimpsed of his nature made sense.
When the video was over, I immediately clicked on another one. This time it was an aria from Puccini’s La Bohème, called “Che gelida manina.” I couldn’t stop. I spent the next hour, leaning back in my seat with my eyes closed, listening to Lei, to Wilhelm, singing his goddamn heart out. At the end of that hour, my head was filled with new names—Verdi, Berlioz, Bizet, Massenet—and I had a clear idea of Lei’s vast range, style, and talent.
This man, this phenomenal performer, was tuning guitars in the back of his parents’ store?Why? Had he had an accident? Lost his voice?
I shut my screen off and silence filled my apartment again. I was exhilarated, but tired, too. Thathad been worth betraying my principles, for sure. I felt as though I’d spent the evening with Lei after all.