Tamika claps her hands. "Well, let's get started. There's a lot to do." As soon as she speaks the words, she's already on her way out. "Why don't you compose something beautiful for the award ceremony? It can be a bit cheesy; that always goes over well."
Euphorically, she leaves the music room. My panic and I are left alone. Only the champagne bottle keeps us company. Without hesitation, I bring it to my lips and drink in large gulps. I continue until a hazy fog settles over my fears. It dulls the worries and quiets my spinning thoughts. Gazing longingly at Sophia and Maya outside, I drink until the bottle is empty.
Everything is spinning. My head is heavy. My muscles relax. I surrender to the detached feeling and feel a special kind of lightness on my shoulders.
Driven by this inner freedom, I stagger to the piano and plop on the stool. "You will do as I say," I sternly admonish my right hand. "Got it?" I glare at it even though it innocently rests on my thigh.
My arms feel heavy as I lift them to position my fingers on the keyboard. The lines on the sheet music blur before my eyes, so I just start playing. After all, I know my pieces by heart.
One note follows another in just the right sequence. A heavy fatigue causes my eyelids to droop as I continue playing. I feel myself gradually freed from the pressure with each new note. My fingers glide over the keys as if they were made for it. And the music that reaches my ears is just as it should be.
Perfect.
Not a single mistake slips in. No uncertainty can be heard. When the piece is over, I lift my eyes to check the condition of my fingers, and everything seems to sway a little.
Everything except my hand.
It remains so still as if nothing had ever happened. I gaze at my fingers in astonishment, as if they don't belong to me. As if I'm witnessing a damn miracle. And at that moment, I realize I've finally found a solution to my problem.
It's far from good. But it's all I have.