The Letter Inside the Guitar

Helga bought the guitar at a second-hand market for thirty dollars. The varnish was scratched, and one tuning peg was loose, but the sound was warm and deep. That night, she was turning it over to look at the label when something rattled inside the body.

She looked through the sound hole and saw a small piece of paper. It was folded many times. She tilted the guitar and shook it gently until the paper slid out onto the table. Then she sat down, and carefully opened it.

It was a letter, written in blue ink, with the date from fifteen years earlier. "Dear Ms. Selma," it began. "Thank you for lending me this guitar for two whole years. Thank you for teaching me even when I could not pay. I am moving to another city for work. I was too shy to say this to your face. I am hiding it where you will find it."

Helga read it twice. Someone had waited a long time for these words to be read, and they had never arrived. The teacher had probably sold the guitar without ever looking inside it.

The next morning, she went back to the market and found the seller's stall empty. But on the case, she found a sticker from a small music shop near the station. She took the guitar and the letter there during her lunch break.

The owner was a man with gray hair and a pencil behind his ear. He laughed when she told him the story. "Selma? Of course I know her," he said. "She taught half the neighborhood. She sold me four guitars when she stopped giving lessons. She still comes in every Friday to buy strings."

"Today is Friday," Helga said.

"Then you should stay for a coffee."

At four o'clock, a small woman with white hair walked into the shop. Helga stood up and held out the letter. "I think this belongs to you," she said. "It was inside one of your old guitars."

Selma took the paper and read it slowly. Her hand began to shake a little. When she finished, she laughed, and then she had to take off her glasses. "I lent that guitar to a boy who could hardly look at me," she said. "I always wondered if he knew how well he played. And all this time, he had told me, right here."

She put the letter in her pocket. Then she picked up the guitar and fixed the loose peg with two quick turns. She handed it back to Helga. "Now," she said, "would you like a lesson?"