I won't be deterred. I don't have to play perfectly to compose, so I can continue. At least until the piece I started yesterday is finished.
I place my hands on the piano again. I want to press a key, but my right hand strongly disagrees. It feels sluggish, and the more I force it, the more it trembles.
There. A wrong note.
I jerk my fingers from the keys.
"Fuck," I exclaim aloud.
"What's going on here?" a voice sounds behind me.
Even though there's no reason for it, I immediately feel caught. I quickly interlock my hands together. My stiff neck prevents me from spinning around. I slowly turn around and spot Tamika standing in the open double doors of the music room.
In her tight leather jumpsuit, she looks like the devil's assistant. How long has she been here? How much did she hear?
Or even see?
She approaches. "Answer me, Josh." The creases on her otherwise smooth forehead don't sit well with me.
"It's the medication," I say as casually as possible. "It's clouding my mind, making it difficult for me to play properly."
"And why are you sitting so hunched over on your stool?" Her eyebrows arch upward.
"Tamika, please, don't become paranoid. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since I fell. Naturally, I'm a bit battered all around." My voice is shrill, too shrill. Even I can hear that I'm trying to hide something.
My manager squats in front of me and brushes her platinum blond hair back. "You know I only want what's best for you, right?"
"Of course." I'd love to throw my arms up in the air, but I better refrain from doing so.
With a concerned expression, she reaches for my hands. "What. Is. Wrong?"
Not only her gaze but also her words put pressure on me, too much of it. I can't tell her. Because nothing is wrong. She would just worry unnecessarily. In a few days, I'll be back to normal.
No reason for alarm.
I struggle to rise from my stool. "There's absolutely nothing for you to worry about."
"If that's the case, then you won't have a problem with getting another checkup from a doctor." She looks at me expectantly. "Just to be sure."
To be sure of what? "I just need some rest, nothing more." That's how it is, and nothing else. I demonstratively cross my arms over my chest.
Finally, she nods. "I understand," she says absentmindedly. For a moment, silence takescommand of the room, which suddenly feels too small for both of us.
"Alright, I'd like to continue now, if you don't mind." I nod toward the door, making sure she understands what I mean.
She turns away. Thank God!
I breathe a sigh of relief as she crosses the room. When she reaches the doorframe, she stops. "The trembling needs to be investigated," she says calmly, still with her back turned to me.
She did see it after all.
My upper body slumps as if suddenly drained of energy. And this one thought, which I had managed to keep at bay until now, can no longer be held back.
Not even from her.
"What if it's something serious?" My words dissipate like ethereal ghosts in the room.
I did it. I uttered the thing I fear the most in this world.
In slow motion, Tamika turns to face me. Her expression seems strangely clear. "I'll schedule an appointment for you this week," she replies, then leaves me alone with my question.
