Dark Eyes and a Skeleton

Digging around in my father's house for treasures. He has objects stockpiled. Gifts from parishioners, useless trash, and things recognizable from my girlhood.
I sneakily try to make off with a nice blue porcelain gongfu set, a jar of chutney, and some parts from a sparkly mobile. He's so stingy, I have to be careful. He'd rather throw something away than give it. contrary to this assumption, he's actually quite open about everything, ready to get rid of everything he has and make a new start with his new house/object collection.

My brother is there, too, and it seems were are in a rush to leave the old house. I don't want to make him uncomfortable by forcing him to be alone with dad, but I simply must retrieve my bicycle from a girl's house that I was friends with at age 12. I go to her house to find not only my bike, but a dashing gaunt Ukranian pop singer in need of a fiddle lesson.

Of course it makes me nervous to give a lesson to someone so attractive, foreign, and relaxed. So I feign a familiarity and tell him all about how i'm feeling at the moment: Missing my hometown, nostalgic thanks to the visit with my dad, excited for the music of the future, etc. then suddenly 'let's get down to business. play something for me.'

He takes out his violin and bows a sobbing 'otchi chernye' with all the emotional prowess of ... well, a Ukranian pop singer. I fear for a moment that I have nothing to teach him. I pull out my fiddle, and the tuning is stubborn and strange. It is fixed after some manipulations, and I dazzle my student with a flashy Hungarian number. 'you can learn it in to time, you're a natural. only thing is, it's mostly in third position.'
'Whaat ees theyrd pozishen?'
Sigh.
I draw him a chart of the strings of the violin and ask him to fill in the notes on each string. He writes in complicated jazz chords, and I realize that this will take a very long time and my brother is waiting... so, I must go. Goodbye, cute Ukranian! Hello, tiny bicycle!

Returning to my father's house, my brother has collected his stockpile. Dad's old purple Harley, the skeleton of his long lost newt, his geode collection and some family photo albums. Diego, my old chihuahua, is there too, having been graciously returned to me from an ex-lover. It seems all the dear things of the past have been obscured from us until now. Although it is nice to have the things back, it is clear that we are both on a new path and that the journey along it cannot be begun soon enough.

In a rare display of generosity, dad suggests that we all go get last minute chiropractic adjustments. We consider it for a moment, but turn him down. We're eager to get on the road, plus there's nothing he can really do to fix the spine of our family anyway.