Chapter 6 Piano for a Dummy
Piano for a Dummy
Theo
Theo attempted to braid her hair while holding her coffee, which, in hindsight, had been an optimistic choice. The elastic band slipped from between her teeth at the exact moment the cup tilted, sending a splash over the rim.
Natalie leaned against the locker room doorway, watching as Theo gave up on the braid entirely and drank half the coffee in one determined gulp.
"Jesus," she said. "You look like something straight out of the morgue."
Theo flicked her hand dismissively, only then noticing the brown stain spreading across her lab coat sleeve.
“So,” Natalie said, stepping fully into the room and leaning against Theo’s locker, “what’s new?”
“She’s taken it to the next level,” Theo muttered.
“Who? Catherine?” Natalie practically sang the name. “She’s still playing?”
“Yep. And apparently that wasn’t enough, so she decided I also needed to be academically humbled too.”
Natalie’s brows lifted. “I’m sorry—what?”
“She challenged me to some stupid music theory quiz app called Keyed In,” Theo said. “Timed rounds. Leaderboards. An insufferable little chime every time you get one wrong and your opponent gets it right.”
“And did you—”
“I didn’t lose,” Theo huffed. “If that’s what you’re about to ask.”
Natalie leaned in, studying the dark circles under Theo's eyes. "Wait, seriously? You actually stayed up half the night because you couldn't let a literal concert pianist beat you at music theory?"
"She started it," Theo muttered into her coffee cup. “And I don’t back down from intellectual bullying.”
Natalie snorted. "Oh, well, when you put it that way…" Her eyes caught on something over Theo's shoulder.
Theo turned to follow her gaze, but from Natalie's expression, she didn't need to look to know what her friend had spotted.
Pinned just above a crooked photo of Theo and Natalie at graduation was a pink-colored sticky note, its edges unnervingly crisp.
Natalie gestured to it, reading aloud. “If you continue slamming your door at five a.m., I will begin incorporating percussion into my practice - 14D.”
She straightened slowly, barely managing to stifle a laugh. “Is she threatening you with rhythm?”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
Natalie stepped closer, lowering her voice into something conspiratorial. “Oh, I am. You realize what this means, right?”
“What?”
“She’s matching your crazy with her own. You two are in a full-on mating dance.”
Theo spluttered, indignant. "That's ridiculous."
Natalie glanced at the photo, then at the precisely centered note above it. “Then why is her note framed like a shrine?”
Theo opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Okay,” she said finally. “I have to go.”
Natalie blinked. “You’re fleeing?”
"I'm not fleeing," Theo said, her hand moving to her badge. "I want to check on Harry before rounds."
Natalie’s expression softened just a fraction, amusement giving way to something more mindful. “Uh-huh. Well, tell Harry I say hi. And do me a favor, try peace talks before you burn the building down. Or at least pretend, so I don’t have to identify you in a lineup.”
“No promises.”
Natalie laughed, shaking her head as she left the locker room.
Theo reached up and straightened the note by a millimeter before slowly closing her locker door. She crossed the room and stepped back onto the ward with the familiar noise rising to meet her.
Pausing outside Harry’s bay, she reached for the curtain. The rings rattled along the track, briefly cutting through the monitors and the overhead pages.
Harry lay propped against two thin hospital pillows, his body noticeably smaller than it had been just a few weeks ago during his last admission. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across his face, deepening the hollows beneath his cheekbones.
Theo stepped into the bay and moved to the computer cart, pulling up his chart. She skimmed the vitals the nurses had already logged, taking them in more as a pattern than a set of numbers. Blood pressure a little high. Heart rate up. Oxygen holding, but only just.
She reached for the blood pressure cuff on the wall and wrapped it around his arm, the velcro tearing as she secured it.
"Back again so soon," Harry said, his voice carrying that familiar gravelly timbre.
"Looks like it. Thought you might be missing me." Theo pressed the button and watched the cuff inflate.
The machine beeped as it measured, numbers climbing and falling on the small screen. She made a note on her tablet, then moved to check his pulse herself, her fingers finding the threadlike beat at his wrist.
"How's the breathing?" she asked.
"Been better. Been worse."
She reached for her stethoscope, settling the earpieces into place before pressing the diaphragm to his chest. The breath sounds were quieter at the bases. Faint crackles, but there. She shifted to a few different positions, listening carefully, building a clearer picture with each one.
"Deep breath," she instructed.
Harry complied, the effort visible in the way his ribs expanded.
Theo straightened and draped the stethoscope back around her neck. "I’m going to get some labs to check your infection markers."
"Okay, whatever you say."
She pulled what she needed from the cart beside his bed: a tourniquet, alcohol swabs, labeled tubes, and a butterfly needle.
The routine steadied her, gave her hands something to focus on while her mind worked through doses and possibilities.
She tied the tourniquet around his upper arm, the rubber pulling snug.
“Make a fist for me.”
Harry's hand closed weakly. The veins in the crook of his elbow were faint, years of difficult draws having left them scarred and reluctant. Theo palpated, searching for the best option so she wouldn’t hurt him.
She settled on a small vessel that felt viable, swabbed the area with alcohol that left his skin glistening under the lights.
She found the vein and eased the butterfly in at a shallow angle, feeling the slight give as it slid beneath the skin. A dark thread of blood moved into the tubing. She steadied the needle with one hand and reached for the first tube with the other.
Her hand shook, not much, just enough that the needle shifted and the blood stopped flowing.
"Sorry," she murmured, steadying her wrist against the edge of the bed. She adjusted, and blood flowed again. Purple top, then green, then yellow.
She withdrew the needle, pressed gauze over the site, and bent Harry's arm to hold it in place. He watched her the entire time, his expression neutral but his eyes scanning her in a way that suggested he'd seen the momentary shake.
He didn't comment; instead, he said, "You know how many ships I loaded? Thousands. Literally thousands." He shifted against the pillows, wincing. "Used to know every shipping route from here to Singapore. Could tell you what day the Maersk Carolina would dock just by looking at a calendar."
"That's impressive," Theo said as she increased his oxygen from two liters to three.
"I had a whole jar of cash for Japan," Harry continued. "Big glass thing, used to sit on my kitchen counter. Added to it every month. Figured I'd take Carla when the jar was full to see Tokyo, maybe Kyoto. I had this plan, you know. Work till sixty-five, then travel with the Mrs."
"What happened to the jar?"
"Bills. Then pills. Then more bills for the pills.” Harry shrugged. “The jar's still there. Empty now, but it's still sitting in the kitchen. Carla didn’t do anything with it when she left. Maybe she figured one day I'd fill it again."
He was quiet for a moment, then added, “She picked it out herself, actually.
Spent twenty minutes in the thrift store at the end of our block, turning every jar over in her hands until she found that one.
Brought it home, put it on the counter, and said, 'Someday we're going to look back and be glad we started.
' Just like that. Like it was already decided. "
"Tokyo's still there," Theo said. "It’s not going anywhere."
"No," Harry agreed quietly. "It's not."
Theo pulled up his chart on her tablet, pausing over the discharge notes from his last admission, reading the recommendations he hadn't followed. The same list of referrals and programs that would probably go unused again this time.
"You remind me of myself, you know that?
" Harry said, interrupting her observations.
"Always putting off the good stuff till tomorrow," he continued, watching her with those alert eyes that seemed too sharp for his weakened state.
"The trips, the rest, the living part of life.
Always gonna do it later, when things settle down. "
Theo saved the chart and set the tablet on the computer cart. She moved to the side of his bed and began straightening his blankets, smoothing the thin fabric where it had wrinkled beneath him.
"Tomorrow's a funny thing, though," Harry said, "it keeps showing up, until one day it doesn't. If it never came, you think you’d say it was a life well lived? Not sure I would, well, for a little while there maybe, but not now. But you, you’re so young, Theo."
Her hands stilled on the blanket. She looked at him directly, holding his gaze.
She didn't argue. Didn't defend herself or explain that she was building a career, following a path that would eventually lead to some undefined future point where rest and trips and living would be possible.
The words formed in her mind but died before reaching her throat.
Instead, she reached for his water cup and repositioned it fractionally closer, making sure that he could reach it without strain.
"I'll check on you in a couple hours," she said, her voice quieter than it had been before.
"Sounds good, doc. Take it easy, okay?"