She straightens her shoulders. "Then I'll go say goodbye to Sophia," she says and immediately runs up the stairs at a pace as if she had to escape from a wild animal.
It's over.
Finally.
An overwhelming fatigue washes over me. I'd love to sink into one of the green leather chairs and close my eyes. But I can't afford that. So I drag myself through the living room toward the music room. After what feels like an eternity, I finally reach where the medicines wait for me, which I so desperately need for my pains.
"Um, Josh?"
Even without turning around, I know Maya is standing behind me. I take a long breath and take my hand off the doorknob. "Yes?"
"Sophia would surely be happy if we all ate dinner together tonight. Her mother should stay, too." I hear the cheap fabric of her skirt rustling as if she were fiddling with the hem. "She needs it to settle in here."
A shared dinner? That's impossible. "Marlene probably doesn't have time." I pause for a moment. I really don't want to say the next words. "And neither do I," I say anyway in a steady voice. There's simply no other way. Even if I try my best to make my right hand do nothing, it would inevitably happen. Just one careless move. Or a distraction that makes me forget. And I would be found out. The risk is too high.
"You should, though." I hear steps approaching me. The next moment, Maya glides past me and standsbefore me. "Sophia urgently needs attention. Everything here is foreign to her. She's scared."
A crushing guilt spreads within me. It penetrates every corner of my body, robbing me of breath.
What kind of father am I?
Despite everything burdening me, I should be there for Sophia. I should love her, hug her, and play with her. But the truth is that I don't know how to do that. For all her life, I never had time for her. And when I observed her tantrum out of the corner of my eye today, I felt more helpless than ever before.
I can't do it. I'm a cursed failure with a head about to explode.
"For Sophia's well-being, you're responsible. Just do the job you're paid for," I say, and hate myself a moment later for my own words. This injury turns me into a monster, and I lack the energy to change that. I clumsily open the door to the music room. "Excuse me, please. My piano is waiting for me."
"But..." Maya says, but I close the door behind me so quickly that I can no longer understand the rest.
Frustrated, I take my medicine, step up to the piano, and spread out the sheet music of my current composition in front of me. Then I place my hands on the keys and play as well as I can. But where the sound of the music usually touches me deeply, a big black hole exists today that absorbs the melody before it can make my soul resonate.
