Chapter 6
Josh
The earth trembles.
"Josh!"
I try to open my eyes, but I can barely manage it. Just for a fraction of a second, I see Jasmin's round face hovering over me. Her skin color reminds me of November mist, her lips unnaturally red.
"You have to wake up, Josh." Is that panic in her voice?
Once again, I'm shaken forcefully.
An uncontrollable groan escapes my mouth. I try to lift my arm to stop her. "No," I manage to press out. At the same moment, sirens wail, and light flickers behind my closed eyelids. Jasmin immediately takes her hands off me. Where they were just lying, it becomes cold.
"Thank goodness, the paramedics." She exhales in short bursts. "I'll be right back, hang on."
I should nod, but I can't. Once again, I briefly open my eyes and catch a glimpse of her rushing away in my peripheral vision. Her footsteps vibrate the parquet floor. The shaking weakens, and an eerie calm settles in.
I try to feel my body. First my hands, then my arms.
All good, fingers are movable. The right shoulder and neck ache, but not too strongly.
Next, I command my legs. They respond as theyshould. My heart beats. Breath flows. I smell the scent of old books. I already know that my eyes and ears are functioning.
I'm okay. Nothing serious has happened.
Finally, I can breathe a sigh of relief. A tension I hadn't even noticed leaves my body.
When the paramedic enters the music room, I've almost managed to sit up.
"Good day, Mr. Friedberg." He kneels in front of me and sets down his medical bag. "How are you feeling?" He takes a small flashlight and shines it into my eyes.
A series of examinations follows, where I have to count fingers and rate levels of pain. He bends all my limbs, then I'm allowed to stand and take a seat in the much more comfortable armchair in the living room. From there, he examines the wound on my temple.
"You were lucky in your misfortune," he finally says. "I can treat the scrape right away. The extent of the concussion seems minor, but it still needs to be monitored."
"No hospital," I manage to utter. I can't afford the resulting media frenzy or the forced pause it would entail.
Jasmin, who has kept herself in the background until now, steps closer. "I'll take care of him," she assures with a vehement nod.
The paramedic looks thoughtfully between Jasmin and me.
"If there are any problems, I will certainly call you immediately." My housekeeper seems to have everything under control.
For a moment, he presses his lips together, then he nods. "I'll leave some medication for your headacheshere." He rummages in his bag and pulls out four packs of pills.
Jasmin's lips curl up as she takes hold of my medication. She repeats the dosage instructions from the paramedic multiple times. He patiently explains to her what she should watch for concerning the concussion, then turns back to me.
His gaze from his friendly brown eyes turns serious. "You should take these immediately."
Anything to help the headache. I reach for the pill.
"Rest for at least five days. That includes both physical and mental rest. Your brain needs to recover."
"Of course," I say even though it's already clear that I'll hardly be able to manage it. A break is out of the question; time is ticking.
He studies me for a moment longer than necessary. "Very well," he murmurs finally, closing his case. The sound feels like a lightning strike in my head. "If you feel unwell, experience further symptoms, or don't recover within a few days, seek medical attention."
