Chapter 44
Josh
I stare at my own reflection, captivated. The pale neon light makes my skin look ghostly, my eyes appear frantic. Wrinkles crease my forehead, blending perfectly with the dirty gray concrete wall behind me.
In the distance, I can hear the orchestra musicians during their soundcheck. Soon, I'll have to step onto the stage for the final rehearsal. In front of the magnificent backdrop of the Colosseum in Rome, I will perform one last time before tomorrow, the day that will determine everything.
I try to swallow down the nerves, not wanting to feel the weight on my shoulders. But it's worse than ever before. Just the thought of what could happen on that stage makes my neck muscles tense up. My hand trembles so much that the movement extends through my entire arm.
My father will be in the audience at the awards ceremony. If there has ever been a moment when I must deliver, it's tomorrow. And today, I must lay the foundation for it.
I know deep within me that I won't be able to do it without vodka. The way my hand shakes, I'll need more than just a few sips.
My God, maybe I am addicted after all?
I need the alcohol. Not the warmth in my stomachor the dull feeling in my head. I could do without those. But I depend on the way it relaxes my muscles.
Desperately, I run my hands through my hair. Then I gather my strength and stand briskly. I quickly walk to the dresser next to the metal entrance door, rummage through my bag, and retrieve the bottle of vodka. I unscrew the cap.
I shouldn't do this. It's wrong.
For a moment, I gaze at the bottle. It wobbles along with my hand. The vodka sloshes over the edge. I can't perform like this. I can't even play a final rehearsal like this. I stare at the bottle of vodka in despair.
"I hate you," I say harshly to it. Then I put it to my lips and take a big gulp. Bitingly sharp, the liquid runs down my throat.
I have to wait a few minutes for the effects to kick in. It's different every time. Occasionally, it takes more, sometimes less, to steady my fingers, and I always drink only what is necessary.
The clock on the wall above the leather loveseat ticks too loudly. I watch as the minute hand continues to move. Then I form a fist.
The trembling is still there.
Resigned, I take another drink. Barely have I forced down the vodka when there's a knock on the door.
"Just a moment, please!" I quickly call out and stash the bottle away. I wipe the corners of my mouth and pop a piece of gum into my mouth. Even though you can't smell vodka, it's better to be safe. I force a smile onto my face in front of the mirror. My eyes stare at me reproachfully.
There's another knock, more urgent this time. I tear myself away and rush to the door to open it.
I didn't expect this visit. It's not just my parents standing in the hallway, but also a cameraman. What is he doing here?
Tamika must have hired him to document my glorious success.
Just what I needed.
"Hello." I should invite them in, but time is running out. To ensure everything goes smoothly for my performance, I have to stick to a defined schedule.
My mother embraces me with joy. I can only hope her keen nose doesn't notice anything about my drinking. "Hello, my dear." She sounds as she always does. That's good.
"Joshua." My father nods at me distantly.
I squint at the camera, its light blinding me. "Um... what are you doing here?" Perhaps the question isn't necessarily polite, but it's just too important that they leave right away.
My mother laughs as if I made a joke. "We just wanted to wish you good luck for the final rehearsal."
"How kind of you. Thank you." I clear my throat, my gaze darting to the clock. Three minutes since I took the last sip. "Please don't be offended, but I need to prepare now," I say quickly, apologetically shrugging my shoulders.
"Of course." With raised hands, my mother takes a step back. "We'll leave you to it." She hooks her arm through my father's and pulls him toward the door. The cameraman follows them.
Suddenly, my father turns around. Immediately, the cameraman has him in focus. "Don't disgrace me, son," he grumbles skeptically.
