by Olivia White
i had a family but they died, or at least i said that once and i was told to stop being so dramatic. i just don't see them any more, which is some small blessing i suppose. There was a mother and a father and a taunting, leering brother who was rough and he prodded and pulled. i heard, once, some wife was saying "they're pretty much the perfect family, two great people with two adorable kids" or something equally saccharine and tailored to ironic foreshadowing. The other 'adorable kid' was a sister, but she was too young to know better, basically a baby but a bit older so not quite as disgusting. Maybe she was like two or three or five, she wasn't old enough to be in school. She's also pretty irrelevant.
One day they decided i wasn't part of the family any more, and i suppose i should've seen it coming and only have myself to blame. i never really made an effort to fit in with them or their regime, so i guess it was kind of inevitable when one day they threw me out. You'd have thought they might have visited at least once or twice though, see if i was settling in okay, at least the brother who sometimes regarded me with a hungry curiosity, which was more than any of the others did. i think they stopped trying because i never really tried with them so like i said, my own fault.
Some of the people here say i shouldn't take so much upon myself, that it's 'part of the problem' and maybe they're right. So that's enough about the matter for now, and onto the now in and of itself. i'm here in a room, which is devoid of any remarkable characteristics, it is sterile and white and a fairly typical hospital room. You kind of imagine rooms like this to be padded cells, thick with misery and hopelessness. Not so. It's just alright, kind of nice, and i'm allowed to keep books, a few at a time. They tried to get me to take books rich in pop culture and contemporary edge, and why is that, i said, and they never really had an answer.
What i'm reading about is the Swedish composer and painter Hugo Alfvén, i have the third volume of his autobiography, and the fourth. He's interesting to read about because obviously nobody else here gives a shit, the books are barely touched even though pretty much everyone's heard that Rhapsody one he did. i really want an instrument. Not a guitar. Anyone can play guitar. Then, what, we'd all sit around in group singing Kumbayah while i stroked out a few out-of-tune chords and prayed for a lobotomy? No, what i want is a violin, because violins are dignified and classy and no fucker plays the violin any more. Yes, i accept they sound like shit if you can't play very well, which i can't, but that's why i need one, to learn and get better.
It's always a no, though, they say there just isn't one but i'm pretty sure it's because violin strings are sharp, like cheese wire. Imagine garroting someone with components from a Stradivarius. That doesn't hold any appeal for me, not even in an ironic way. At least i can read about old Hugo, and listen to some form of music on the rare occasion i get alone time with the radio.
There is another patient here - no, sorry, we call them guests - who gouged his own eye out with a spoon. i was there, and i saw it, and for a while the doctors thought it was me even though both of us denied everything. He said the Devil made him do it and if it wasn't for the fact he told me he was lying, i'd have believed him. It's not a stretch to assume the Devil walks among us, especially here. The thing with my friend is, and let's call him by name since he has one, Theo, he's perfectly sane. He gouged out his eye because he didn't need it. He reckons people will pay top dollar for an eye but the doctors confiscated it so we never got to find out if that was true, and Theo isn't willing to give up his other one.
i like Theo, he's funny and pretty smart and (now) he wears an eyepatch. i don't get to spend much time with him because we're segregated and sometimes i'm locked in for days because of bad behavior like yelling and shit but that only happens when i start thinking about the family a lot and how they acted.
You know what? Fuck them. i waste far too much of my time thinking about those reprehensible human beings. i bet even the sister doesn't miss me. i used to play with her, like once or twice. She had this doll but the brother set it on fire in a hilarious display of teenage rebellion, and sometimes i think boys will be boys but then i remember he's a fucking high school senior and surely he should know better? And seriously what gives, he's never once come to visit even though he can drive and the father bought him a car for doing well on his SATs. Fuck fuck fuck him and his stupid ideals.
I'm in the Day Room looking for Theo, but he's not here. Instead there's some seeping idiot rocking back and forth in the corner, dribbling into his oatmeal. He keeps looking at me like i'm supposed to say something, but what? Mental, vacant expression, then i remember he probably actually took his medication, unlike me. i'm palming the pills and tucking them into the hole in my sleeve, saving up the day's supply to take all at once tonight, because i feel like getting off my fucking face and just doing that thing where i zone out with the Alfvén book then lie in the dark all wrapped up. i can get away with things like this because nobody really checks.
So this guy is staring at me like i'm a religious epiphany and, thankfully, Gloria comes over and takes my arm even though we're not really supposed to make physical contact and she guides me to a table and i sit down and realize i've been carrying my lunch tray. "Hello," Gloria says after we've sat down and i nod and smile and don't say anything, but I do rattle my sleeve so she understands. i chew my lip, a sign of nerves apparently, and Gloria picks up on it.
"You alright?" she asks. I am. I nod again, and start eating my mashed whatever. Don't make a mistake here, we are allowed to eat solid foods. It's just that this thing, whatever it is, happens to be mashed. It's not potato either, or at least i don't think so, which makes me a little anxious because at least if it was, it would be approachable.
"Nice?" Gloria queries.
i realize it is actually kind of nice. Maybe it's swede.
"So here's a thing," i say to Gloria. "Have you noticed anything strange lately?"
Gloria laughs, looks around, back at me, shrugs. i'm not oblivious enough that my comment wasn't deliberately intended to amuse.
"No, you dopey shit," i say. "Like strange beyond strange. Wolves in the walls strange."
Gloria shrugs again. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"At night," i say to her. "There's a terrible banging sound coming from everywhere."
"I haven't noticed," Gloria says. She tells me they have her on sleeping meds. It makes sense. The first week i was here, i barely slept cos Gloria screamed the place down. Night terrors, the doctors called it, although i later found out it was simply because she wanted sleeping meds. Guess that plan is backfiring now, then. Although not if she sleeps through the creaking.
"Where's it coming from?" she asks. i tell her i don't know. i point out i can't exactly go investigating.
"It might be from the corridor," i suggest. Gloria shudders.
"Let's just eat."
That's fine by me.
The thing that really made me pissed about the brother was his insistence on doing really well at everything. He was the type who would never let you forget that he did really well at everything, and you didn't. He couldn't play the violin though.
Alfvén could play the violin. By all reports he was rather good at it. What was nice about Alfvén is that he didn't rub your nose in it. He was all, yeah, I'm okay at the violin I guess, how about some tea. That's what i imagine him to have been like, anyway. i don't think Alfvén would have gotten along well with the brother.
i have all the pills here, and some water in a paper cup. It's dark out, and moonlight spills through the high window. i'm already calm, already floating, and it's time to make that extra push. i put the pills in my mouth, one after another, then take a huge swig of water and swallow. i love the way they feel like they're fighting for space in my throat. i can feel them go down, rattling against one another like little teeth in a beaker. Then, i wait and count and it's ten minutes, more or less, before i can feel them starting to work. There is music playing, somewhere, and i know there shouldn't be because it's far too late for the
radio, but there is. i expect it to be Alfvén such is the theme, but it's Strauss, Johann the second, and someone's cradling me in their arms, rocking me in the Viennese Blood and i keep my eyes closed because it's more beautiful this way. Cold moonlight touches my skin, and i'm on my back, floating in this sea of blood, ivories striking with the ebb and flow, strings like the wind, trill trill trill. Someone is on top of me and it's pleasant and reassuring and we drift together, me and my shadow, and i bet, you know
I bet my mother, and my father and my brother couldn't even appreciate, couldn't even begin to appreciate moments like this. Completely out of character. Do you think Hugo and Johann would have been friends? Hugo and Richard, definitely. Imagine drifting off in a funeral boat while an accordion plays. These kinds of things, I don't think my brother would ever think about something like this. Don't think he's ever listened to Pyotr and dreamed of strapping on those pink satin shoes, or pictured himself waving a baton in front of a symphony orchestra.
i do that now, my eyes still closed, blind as The Bat, eighty-odd people under my command, obeying my every wish. i'm a magician, a trailblazer, shooting stars across the sky. Tracer fire inside my eyelids, crescendo leads to staccato, then a brass band march, i lead, they follow. Then moving on, i'm caught on a swell, directing the Danube, my beautiful finale and the cracks begin to appear. Cracks, creaks, groaning and rattling pipes, this old building's falling apart. The water drains away, replaced with ice, my back tenses and i push my spine hard against the mattress to crack it. A moment's relief, i open my eyes, there's a fucking man standing over my bed. Or, more accurately, he's facing away. He's hunched over, and i can see he's shaking slightly. There's a bald spot on the back of his head and it catches the moon. i'm paralyzed with fear, and the drugs are preventing me from shouting. Not sure i even want to. What's he doing? The man is making a low, throaty noise. At first i am under the mistaken assumption that this is something sexual, but it's soon clear it isn't. Pain? i jump with fright as he takes a lurching step sideways, and even though i say 'jump' i'm still frozen in place, i can't even move my arms from their folded position. The man still has his back to me, he's shaking violently, lurching and swaying from side to side. And then he turns, and i want to yell at him to stop, i don't want to see, and i try to close my eyes again but even my eyelid muscles have turned against me now.
He turns to face me, and I see he's in his fifties maybe, although it's hard to tell. His face has a sick, waxy sheen and there's a thin film of drool over his chin. His tongue, fat and wet, lolls from the corner of his mouth. And down his face, mostly on the right side, there are livid gashes, like he's been all messed up somehow; they're uniform, straight down his face, i can't tell if he's even got an eye left there. i'm trembling involuntarily as he stumbles over to me, and i wonder just how in the fuck he got inside my room, because they lock the doors at night.
The man is over me now, and i still can't move, and he's chewing his tongue and mumbling and i want to be sick. i try and force a scream, something, anything, and a tiny, high-pitched squeak is all i can manage, nasal and pathetic. He turns to look at me proper, his eyes flicking back and forth from my head to my feet, and for a moment it looks like he's about to reach out, he's flexing his hands impotently, fingertips against palms. i let out that pathetic screech again, and try my best to edge myself along the mattress, to press against the wall, something. The man grunts at me, and i see his lips are shredded too. Then he turns and lumbers off, past my head, to the door. i feel my muscles loosen and i can move again, sitting up on the bed, turning around. i'm more curious than scared now. He's at the door, and it's ajar, and he pulls it open and walks out. Light spills in from the corridor. i think about lying back down, pulling the sheets over my head, but i know i'll be for it if they come round to find my door open, and besides, i haven't had a night-time adventure in what seems like forever.
So i get up, bare feet against the freezing linoleum, and realize it is very, very cold indeed. i'm shivering, and i follow the man out into the hallway. There should be a nurse or someone i can talk to, tell them what's happened, ask them to please be a little more careful in future. But the man's by the nurse's station, and it's odd because nobody's trying to stop him. He's turning the corner, down to the day room and i'm pretty sure i can hear the noise of the TV from there, and that definitely shouldn't be on. It's just white noise, the sound of static, but as i turn the corner i can see the haunting glow it casts across the room, and i don't like it. i look around for the man. At first, i don't see him, then a shadow shifts on the far wall, by some of the threadbare, ratty chairs. He's sitting down, his back to me, shaking his head from side to side. i can still see into the nurse's station from here. Definitely no-one. Shouldn't Scott and Mattie be on duty tonight?
i call out. Hello? Maybe it's not Mattie's shift. Maybe there was an emergency i didn't hear. i wish Theo's room wasn't back the other way. Could at least ask for his help.
i jump, letting out a gasp, when i turn back and see the man standing a meter away from me. He's staring, chewing, rubbing his hands together and scratching, hard. Is he chewing or is he trying to speak? i look down at his feet. He's wearing old, filthy slippers. They're caked in mud, or something.
Behind him, there's a creaking, the sound of metal straining, and a dull ringing sound. He turns. i want to tell him no, not to look, but i figure i'll let him make his own mistakes right now. Of course, it's coming from that corridor, and the man begins to head towards the sound. i look down at the ground, at the thin line of tape that separates the day room and that place, as much a threshold as it could be. i see the man's filthy slippers step over it, stepping outside the light cast by the TV, and just ahead of him i can see a door ajar. He moves towards it, that shambling, lumbering gait, and fuck no, i'm not touching this one, he's on his own.
i hurry back to my room, ice-cold soles slapping against the floor and i'm pretty much running. my door is still open. i step inside the room, and Mattie is there, sitting on my bed. She looks at me imploringly, shakes her head, and i try to explain but it just sounds like disjointed rambling, so she tucks me up and promises she won't tell as long as i give her my word i'll stay settled for the rest of the night. She doesn't need to ask me twice, i say. i'm going nowhere.
As soon as i lie down, it's like i never left. The violins strike up again and this time it's not Strauss but Alfvén himself, and he guides me towards sleep.
Theo is looking for me, i'm told, but i have a visitor. It's that one guy who drops by every now and then, and it makes me angry when he does. Well, i say that, i prefer seeing him to having no visitors at all, but he acts as if we're old friends and that riles me. i don't say anything though, i wouldn't want the doctors to stop his visits and leave me with nobody. It's not like the family is going to come any time soon.
"Hello," the man says. He's already seated when i get into the room, as it is every time. "How are you feeling today?"
i shrug and sit down. "Didn't sleep well."
"Oh." He looks concerned. He's old, like forty maybe, but appears to be a lot older at first glance. Not that this is my first glance of course.
"Yeah," i say.
"Was something wrong?"
i think about the man in my room, wonder where he is now, about the sleep paralysis.
"No, i just had amnesia."
"You mean insomnia."
"i mean what i mean," i say. It's a game i liked playing, winding him up some.
"Anyway. How are things in here? Is that a stupid question?"
It was, but i didn't say so. "Good, i guess," i say.
"We just want you to get better," he says. i was pretty sure he was a doctor. i asked him, once, but he denied it. What, then, i said, what are you? He wouldn't answer and just looked a bit sad. i suppose it was a bit blunt.
"Hey, I brought you some things," he says. i wait. No things appeared. i look at him questioningly.
"Yes?"
"Oh, I gave them to the nurse
," he tells me. "Wasn't allowed to bring them in here, you know that."
"What is it?" i ask, stringing out the words.
The man smiles. "You'll see."
i don't like surprises, but it seems impertinent to say so. Instead i act grateful and thank him.
"Carol sends her love," the man tells me. i frown, trying to remember if he's mentioned Carol before. Oh, his wife. "And Lacey and Ricky." His kids, i think.
"Tell them i said hello," i say.
"You'll have to come and visit them when you're better," the man says. i don't know why, but i get the feeling i'd like that. Even if he's a doctor, why not? i'd be happy to socialize with Mattie and she's a nurse.
We chat for a while about some things, then it's time for him to go and Mattie comes to get me and leads me back to the day room, and i look around for that drooling old man from the night before, but instead find Theo playing a card game by himself.
"Sup, Theodore," i say, high-fiving him as i sit down. He seems to be concentrating on his card game, and doesn't say much at first.
"Theo, i need you to listen to me real good," i say, and this gets his attention because i'm almost never serious about things.
"What's going on?" he asks, his one good eye opened wide.
So i tell him about the night before, the man and the corridor. When i mention the former, he cringes. When i mention the latter, he visibly shudders. i understand why. Both of us glance over to look in that direction. From here, we can't see the door, but we know it's there.
"Who was he?" i ask. "You've been here a while. Recognize him?"
"You could be talking about anyone," he said. "Sorry."
i sit with Theo a while and we play cards, then he has to go off for some session and i don't envy him at all the fact he has to walk down that corridor to get where he needs to go. i decide to go back to my room, and then i remember what the man said, the nurses have something for me. So i go to the nurse's station and they're talking, two of them, not Mattie cos she's on nights, but Scott (who i thought was on nights but obviously isn't) and someone new, a young and pretty girl who i've never spoken to.
"Is it going to be okay for her?" she says, and Scott's all saying it will, whoever she is, but that they'd better talk to the doctor first. i knock on the window and Scott comes over and he smiles at me real wide. i like Scott because of that smile. He's usually the one i like to do injections if i ever need them, him or Mattie. Plus once i talked to him at length about Chopin and he was interested, and possessed a knowledge on the subject far exceeding bullshit stereotypes (the public generally regard nurses as not being fans of classical music).
"Scottland, do you have something for me in this fine office?" i ask. A shadow passes across Scott's face. He pauses for a moment before answering.
"No, I don't think so!" he says. The other nurse comes up and starts to say something but Scott looks at her, and instead she tells me it's time for my medication. Today, i take it instead of squirreling it away, because that's not something i feel i should do often.
"Thank you for your consideration," i tell Scott with a smile. "i shall retire to my quarters now. As you were!"
The thing about the mother and the father was that they always spent a lot of time talking about the brother, and by that i really do mean a lot. He was always the topic of conversation at dinner parties, at church fetes, at high school graduation. The sister was just a baby and didn't know any better, and what is there of interest to say about a baby anyway, she's just the younger of the two, and an idiot underachiever at that point. The day they decided to put me in here and told me i was no longer part of the family, i remember the sister crying a lot and begging them to change their minds, so hmm, she can't have still been a baby then? The brother laughed, i think, or said it was for the best, and the mother and father were just happy to be rid of me. i would still love to know how things like this are legal.
i'm still thinking about the family, the father in particular, when i wake up and realize my door is open again. i look around the room, and thankfully the man's not here tonight. i get up, go outside and look around, and there's no sound at all. Like, literally no sound. i can't even hear the slapping of my feet on the cold ward floor. i test this by knocking on Gloria's door. Nothing, not a sound. i try to speak, and can't. My mouth is gone. i reach up and touch the flesh where my lips used to be. Just smooth skin. Can't even feel my teeth. i wonder if i should panic or something, then up ahead i hear a noise, which surprises me in the otherwise-silence. It's a scratching, screeching sound like a chair being moved, and i feel numb to it all so i head towards the day room. Before i get there, i'm stopped in my tracks by the sight of the nurse's office. Theo is inside, and there's something in there with him. It's a dog, behind him, a huge feral-looking creature. i can't hear it, but i can see from the look on its face that it's snarling. It looks crazed. Theo has his back to the dog. i hammer on the glass, but there's no sound. i try to shout, but of course i have no mouth. The dog is creeping closer to Theo, its hackles are up, the hair on its back spiny and dangerous. i see it tense, and try banging again. i look around for something to break the glass. A chair, perhaps. The day room.
Inside the day room, i see the man again. He looks more all together this time; he's in a suit, and he's walking back and forth with determination and purpose.
i try to ask him for help, because of the dog. And miraculously the words come out now, my mouth is okay, and i speak.
"Help," i say.
The man turns, and i see his face, and it's still just as damaged as before. The gashes across his lip give him the look of one who's perpetually snarling, and he reminds me of the dog i just saw.
"There's a dog," i say. "Theo's in danger."
The man sneers at me, or at least i think so since he's sneering by default. He says nothing, but glances over his shoulder towards the corridor. i look too, and Theo's standing there. He looks at me, looks away, turns and walks down it.
"No!" i shout. i move to step forward, but i don't want to get too close to the man, who snorts at me, amused. Then he, too, turns and heads towards the corridor. Theo's completely out of sight now, and against my better judgment i follow the man. He's walking briskly, and i can see the full corridor now, and of course, that door is open. That has to be where Theo's gone. And the man walks towards it, and goes inside. i stop at the corridor's entrance. i don't want to do this. i know i don't. But i can hear noises from down there; snarling, and barking, and something is very, very wrong. i have no choice, do i? i take a step, then another, and suddenly the floor is freezing beneath my feet and i very much want to be back in my room, the door tightly locked, the covers wrapped around me. i hear a growl, then a hungry whine, then suddenly silence.
i'm shaking as i approach the door. It opens outwards and towards me, so i can't see inside the room. There's a smell, like hot breath, and i place my hand on the door knob and, terrified, prepare to open it. Then, behind me, the sound of padding footsteps and i turn and see it, and i stumble backwards, falling to the ground, retching, vomit forcing its way up my throat and i'm so fucking scared because the thing snarls, and looks like it's smiling and i am choking, coughing, crying, and the only escape route i have is into that room, so even though i'm terrified of turning my back on the thing, i crawl away and through the door and inside the Albatross.
For some reason i've slept in. It's like midday when they finally wake me. i've missed breakfast, and morning medication, and this annoys me. i don't like it when my routine is broken. i wander out into the corridor, into the bustle of the ward. Nothing seems off-kilter. Theo's sitting playing cards with Gloria and i go over but they don't notice me and carry on talking. Gloria is talking about how she's getting almost no sleep. You and me both, i think. i am starving, but i think i've missed dinner as well. The clock on the wall got broken in a scuffle a month ago.
i go over to the nurse's station and see that other young nurse from yesterday. She smiles at me like a sister and
gestures for me to come closer.
"How are you feeling today?" she asks.
"I'm fine, thank you," i say, "although i'm very hungry."
She nods. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, have we?" she asks.
"Nope."
"I'm Penny," she says, and holds out her hand. i shake it. Her skin is very soft. i like her. i go to tell her my name, then realize she obviously knows it already.
"You're new here, right?" i ask instead.
"Just started last week," she tells me.
"How're we treating you?"
She smiles. "You're all lovely," she says. "Hey, Scott left this for you."
Penny heads into the back of the nurse's station, disappearing for a moment. She returns with a sandwich on a plate, wrapped in Clingfilm. This pleases me. i am starving, and take the plate from her with a heartfelt thanks.
"Don't go too far," she says. "The doctor wants to see you this afternoon."
i look up from unwrapping the sandwich. "Dom? Is it a Tuesday?"
Penny shakes her head. "No, it's Friday. And not Dom, Doctor Beatrice."
i freeze, the sandwich half-way to my mouth.
"Doctor Beatrice?" i ask. "Really?"
Penny looks confused. "Yeah. She just wants a quick chat. Is that okay?"
i know i don't really have a choice, so i just say yes and eat my sandwich.
We're at the corridor, Penny and i. i try not to think about the night before. Penny has her hand on my arm, but i don't think she understands why i'm scared. i try to delay the inevitable.
"Do you ever listen to classical music?" i ask her.
"Not really, I'm afraid," Penny says.
"What are you into?"
She's gently guiding me down the corridor, and i'm sure she can feel that i'm resisting.
"Tell you what, let's get this done then we'll have a proper chat about it," she says. Crap.
We're at the door now. i regret ever turning it into a thing. Doctor Alison Beatrice. The Albatross. Why did i ever listen to Theo telling me those stories?
Penny knocks, we listen. A calm, warm voice from inside. "Yes?"
Inside, i am sitting down in front of her desk. It's disorganized, still, much like the last time i was in there. There's a photo of her family on it; i know because i asked who they were once. i don't have any photos of the family. The father, the mother, the brother are just memories. Sometimes Doctor Beatrice asks me to talk about those memories, and i don't like it.
This isn't one of those times.
"Mattie tells me you've been having some bad dreams," she says.
"No, not really," i say.
"Hmm," Doctor Beatrice replies. "Okay then. Listen, your brother-"
I cut her off. "Do we have to?"
Doctor Beatrice smiles at me kindly. She's in her fifties, i think. She has a nice face. i think that in any other situation, i'd like her a lot. In here, though, she makes us see things. Today i'm not ready for it.
"It's not like that," she says. "Your brother brought you a present. I want to talk to you about it."
"What?" i demand. "Really?" This is unprecedented. He's never even visited before.
"Yeah, did he not tell you?"
I shrug. "I haven't seen the brother in years."
Doctor Beatrice smiles. "He came to visit you yesterday, didn't he? Don't you remember?"
i laugh. This must be some kind of therapy bullshit. She's pulling a fast one on me. i can feel that familiar confusion knotting itself up in my chest, and the dull pain in the back of my head.
"Anyway, it doesn't matter," Doctor Beatrice says. "He brought you a violin. Do you think you'll be okay with that?"
Suddenly, my spirits lighten. i no longer care about why the brother didn't see me himself.
"Shit the bed, a violin? Serious?"
Doctor Beatrice nods. "I have it here. Would you like to see it?"
Of course i would, and i say so, and the doctor produces a case from under her desk. She opens it, and it's the most beautiful fucking thing i've ever seen in my life. Lovingly carved maple, catching the sun from the window behind Doctor Beatrice. i reach out and run my fingers along the wood. Smooth, cold to the touch. And the fingerboards, that's proper ebony i think. This wasn't a cheap piece, not at all. i touch the strings. Tight, sharp, perfect.
"What do you think?" Doctor Beatrice asks.
"It's perfect," i say. "It is the best thing."
"Would you like to try it?"
"i would like that very much," i say.
Doctor Beatrice stands up and closes the case. She hands it over to me. i take it, my entire body shaking.
In my room, i can barely contain myself, hungrily opening the case, tuning the instrument, rosining up the bow. Penny stands in the doorway, watching, and i think she's excited too. i'm done, i place the violin against the curve of my neck, and it fits like it was made for me. The strings beneath my fingers become an extension of myself, the bow in my other hand a new limb. i place the horsehair against the strings and make a long, drawn out movement. A rich, beautiful sound. i close my eyes. What to play? At first i think Alfvén, but i don't think i can. So i just play, and suddenly the notes appear, and i'm playing Strauss, The Blue Danube, the bow cutting rhythms through the music; perfect, blissful notes and behind me, through the wall of sound, i hear Penny gasp with appreciation.
I am Strauss. I am Tchaikovsky. I am Mozart, Bach and Vivaldi. I am The Bumper Book of Classical Violin, atop a music stand. I stand. I practice in front of the window in the study, watching my reflection as I deftly flick the bow. I am flawless, my notes pitch-perfect, my bowing unparalleled. The scholarship will be mine. I know it.
I'm playing something I've played a million times before, the summer sun beating down on my face, while outside my father is gardening. I can hear him through the window, clip, clip, clip. Hugo, my beautiful brown Labrador, sunbathes lazily nearby. Occasionally, as if in a dream, he twitches.
I flip the page and begin a new piece. It's problematic, this one. Only a few seconds in and I'm hitting bum notes all over the place. Swedish Rhapsody. I know this would sound better with a full orchestra. This isn't my fault, is it?
Outside, Hugo's standing up. Something's riled him. The hair on his back is standing on end. I keep playing, and I'm getting frustrated now. The music sounds awful. Screeching, it's not flowing, sometimes I just want to smash this fucking thing. My fingers hurt. I play. Over and over I play. Every note hurts my ears, crescendos fall flat, trills sound like shrieks.
Hugo is growling, and I see my father's turned around. He looks worried. Hugo's circling towards him. He looks angry. I play. I'm getting there. I can't stop.
My father approaches Hugo. The dog growls, barks. I hear it, in time with the music. It's still not quite there. My father is holding his hands out defensively.
The music's building up and I think I'm getting it now, I think I'm getting somewhere, and I hit the right notes and Hugo leaps, and he's on my father, knocking him to the ground, and I hit a bad note again and curse out loud. There's screaming, and feral grunts, but I'm nailing it, I'm getting somewhere, and I can hear more screams coming from somewhere. My father's wrestling with Hugo, who's tearing at his arm. I look back at the sheet music again, trying to work out where I'm going wrong, and I almost miss a note when there's a bang on the glass. I look up, still playing, can't stop, Father is there, one side of his face torn away, and he looks at me imploringly through one good eye. I keep playing, and I'm getting it right now, just like you wanted Father, are you proud of me? I smile at him and he smiles back, his teeth stained pink, and over his shoulder I can see Hugo's snarling maw, and then my brother is there, he has something, the shears, and I'm hitting the final crescendo, it's going well, almost, a couple flat notes, but we're getting somewhere now, and Hugo's turning on my brother too, and I hit the last few notes as he plunges the shears forward.
Can i face it? i can. It's time. The Blue Danube ends and i hear Penny
applauding behind me, but i ignore her and carry on, i can remember everything and here we go Alfvén you motherfucker, let's do this.
And here I go. I hit the first notes perfectly and I'm off to the best start. My bow flies like the Devil himself is inside me, and the entire orchestra joins in. I turn, still playing, and lead Penny out into the hallway. She follows, doors open, others come out to see what's going on. I don't stop. The rhapsody is in full swing. I head down the hall to the day room, my entourage behind me, the orchestra somewhere off-stage, complimenting my beautiful melody. Into the day room and there's Theo and Gloria and they notice me this time, they stand up and join me, and Scott comes out of the nurse's office and he's joining in too, and I don't stop, it's all perfect. I'm leading them all like the Pied Piper of Hamlin or something, leading them all to The Albatross Corridor and this time I don't even pause to cross the threshold, we all just go, and I'm still playing and I haven't hit a single bad note, everything has been pitch perfect, nothing will stop me now, I live for the flow and the rhythm and the waltz and the rhapsody, and together we walk down the corridor, towards the door, and Beatrice throws it open to greet us and the song finishes, I take a bow, and I say Doctor, I'm ready to see you now.
XIII - Home Video
