Chapter 13
Maya
When I enter the narrow hallway of our shared apartment late in the evening, I hear Elina giggling in the kitchen.
"Stop it," she calls out. "Come here, you fool."
She has male company. Just what I needed tonight.
I wish I could make myself invisible and slip past the kitchen door unnoticed. But it's impossible. I can only hope that Elina is too preoccupied to notice me. I sneak along on tiptoes.
"And now some whipped cream." A bright laugh rings out, followed by a deep hum. "Yessss," Elina breathes reverently, just as I approach the doorframe.
I should leave it at that, but I just can't. My eyes can't look away, and my head turns toward the kitchen without my command. Moments later, the image of a radiantly happy Elina appears before me. Her blond mane is partially smeared with white foam, just like her tight top with thin straps. Below, she's only wearing skimpy underwear. At that moment, an Adonis with closely cropped hair in tight boxer shorts bends over her, tenderly kissing her nose. They're clearly drunk.
The sight sends a pang through me, right where it already hurts. I force myself to keep going. Watching this isn't good for me .
"Maya!" Dammit. She's spotted me.
"I'm already leaving. Don't let me disturb you," I say quickly and turn away.
A sticky hand reaches out for me. "Wait, I want to introduce you to someone."
That's not necessary, I already know who stands before me. "Hello Flo, nice to meet you."
The brows over the man's foggy eyes furrow. Then he raises his hand, flexing his abdominal muscles as if to impress me. "Me too, Maya." The scent of alcohol on his breath makes me recoil in disgust.
Elina giggles like a teenager. Again. But I can't hold it against her. After all, I can see the cloud she's floating on.
It's rosy pink. And so incredibly unstable.
It's best for everyone if I make myself scarce, so I wish them a pleasant evening, ignore all attempts to stop me, and continue to the bathroom.
With a mix of relief and dejection, I close the door of my room behind me a short while later. This room is the size of a doll's house, but I have everything I need here. I carefully glide my fingers over the feathers and beads of the dream catcher I made myself, then I draw the wildly patterned curtains. Exhausted, I collapse onto the bed, looking up at the starry sky of glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling.
After a terribly silent dinner with the housekeeper and Sophia, it took hours for the little girl to fall asleep. And even then, I could only leave her with a heavy heart. In my imagination, she's already awake again. She's crying bitterly because there's no one there.
I should have stayed with her. We could have been there for each other .
But I left her alone with a man who is only her father in a biological sense.
Plagued by the images that rise within me, I curl up on my bed. I don't want to see them, can't bear them. Yet they're there, keeping me in a fitful doze despite all my exhaustion.
***
The following morning greets me with radiant sunshine. And a time display on my alarm clock that makes me bolt upright.
Damn! I overslept. If I'm late, Sophia will think I've forgotten her. That would be the worst thing I could do to her. In a hurry, I throw on some clothes and bolt from my room.
"Hey, Pippi, wait up," Elina calls after me from the kitchen, her mouth half full.
I keep rushing, slipping into my shoes and grabbing my bag. "No time." I definitely need some hair clips. My old stuffed animal. And money for the bus. What else?
Suddenly, my roommate appears in her hospital scrubs, a bowl of cereal in her hand. "Listen, about yesterday ..."
I stop her with a dismissive hand gesture. "Don't worry about it. Everything's fine."
Her eyebrows knit together. "I didn't want to ... well ... because you ..." she stammers. Then she takes a spoonful of her breakfast, probably because she doesn't know what else to say.
"You're in love. Just enjoy it," I reply quickly and head for the door. "Let's talk tonight. I have to go. "
"Can't. I have a twenty-four-hour shift ahead of me." She scrunches her nose, though I know she's looking forward to her shift. Whenever she gets to show off her knowledge, she's in her element.
"Then tomorrow," I say, secretly not upset that the conversation will be postponed.
"Alright. We also need to talk about the rent." She grimaces as she always does when she has bad news. As if she just ruined her own appetite, she puts her bowl of cereal on the shoe cabinet.
I nod, embarrassed. In four weeks, I'll get my first paycheck. Then at least the matter of the outstanding bills should get easier. "We'll do that, but right now there really isn't time."
"Don't forget your hat." Grinning, Elina grabs the oversized straw hat with the blue-and-white-striped band and puts it on my head. "Very nice." She pulls me in for a moment.
"Thanks," I mumble into her tousled blond hair. Then I free myself from her embrace and head out.
As quickly as I can, I run to the bus stop. I almost trip over my own feet, but at least I make the bus just before it leaves. Panting, I sink into one of the worn seats and watch the city pass by. The closer I get to Josh's villa, the more queasy I feel. Even if I am on time, it doesn't change the fact that I left Sophia alone last night. She surely won't forgive me. And no one could understand that better than I do.
I was always with you in my heart. And I still am today , my father tries to convince me in my mind right now. His tone is so full of love that my eyes well up. I blink hastily to dry them. Tears have no place in my life.
To distract myself, I reach for my phone and open the web browser. A headline immediately catches my eye that probably would not have stood out a few days ago.
Joshua Friedberg cancels concerts.
Curious, I click on the link and read the article. Not only his tour kickoff at the Vienna Rathausplatz but also the follow-up concert at the Peace Square in Prague will be canceled.
Due to an acute summer flu?
That's odd. He didn't seem sick at all yesterday. He was brusque and curt. I didn't notice any fever or chills.
So he's also a liar. Good to know.
Next to the article is a video linked from his last concert. Let's see how this fraudster earns his millions.
I press the play button and immediately Josh steps onto the stage to thunderous applause with an open smile. I watch fascinated as the camera zooms closer and closer to him. He looks completely different from yesterday. His forehead is smooth, and despite the colorful stage lights, he seems to shine even more from within. It may be due to his bright green eyes, which I hadn't noticed before.
The camera pulls back a bit from him. He sits down at the massive black grand piano and closes his lids. As if on command, the audience goes silent, the lights dim, and the spotlights focus solely on him.
Even though I'm watching the video only on my phone display, I can sense the almost meditative atmosphere that suddenly seems to envelop not only Josh but also his audience.
He begins to play. I've heard this melody before. I immediately feel as if it is a part of me .
Bliss.
That's the only word that comes to mind to describe what I see in the close-up of his angular face. There's so much love and passion. Not a hint of determination or anger.
Who the hell is this man in the video? And who did I meet yesterday?
With a mix of wonder and emotion, I continue watching the film. I listen to the moving music, discover the lights that the audience has ignited, and feel the intense atmosphere washing over me. It's as if it's all carrying me away. Within a short time, I've forgotten all my questions, don't remember where I am, and just wish he would never stop playing.
But at some point, it falls silent. The video has ended.
As if in a trance, I let my phone drop and look up.
Through the bus window, I look toward the sky. I observe the occasional thin bands of clouds and watch the birds glide through the air. And all of a sudden, I feel as though I could fly with them.
Enjoy the moment, Maya. It's the most important thing you have right now.
And that's exactly what I do. With a broad smile on my face and the exact sense of lightness in my chest that I usually only feel when I see the world through a child's eyes.
***
Feeling good, I arrive at Josh's villa a little later. The entrance area is deadly quiet. I hang my hat and bag on the coatrack hooks, straighten out my oversized T-shirt with its colorful print, and tidy my hair with my fingers. Then I go looking for Sophia.
Eventually, I find her with Jasmin in the glossy kitchen. The bright morning sunlight streams through the windows. The smell of fruit, tea, and oatmeal fills the air, but there's no breakfast left. Too bad. The hole in my stomach has now reached the size of a construction pit. But that has to wait because Sophia comes first. The little girl sits on one of the high stools at the large kitchen island, staring at a tablet. Her dangling feet swing back and forth.
"Good morning." I energetically cross the room.
Sophia doesn't even notice that I'm here. The housekeeper gives me a brief nod.
I lean on the bright marble countertop. "Great day today, isn't it?" I say to Jasmin.
Unchanged, she rubs the pot in her hand intensively dry with a dish towel. "Absolutely wonderful."
Smiling, I sit on the stool beside Sophia and peer over at the girl. She’s still wearing her pajamas.
Yesterday didn't go well between us. But today, I will find a way to get through to her. I can find out what makes her so sad.
Very carefully, I nudge her. "Hey, Sophia. Where's Fridolin?"
Her gaze is glued to the cartoon dogs on her tablet.
"Don't tell me he's still sleeping." I grin secretly even though she doesn't look at me. "Should we wake him up together? Today is such a beautiful day. We could walk with him to the playground."
She doesn't react. Too engrossed in the adventures of the Paw Patrol , she barely notices me.
This isn't working at all. I stand and walk to Jasmin at the other end of the kitchen. "Why did you give her the tablet?" I ask her quietly, trying my best not to sound accusatory.
Shaking her head, she stacks the clean plates together. "What else should I have done?" she replies with a frustrated undertone. "After the unsuccessful attempt to put one of her dresses on Sophia, Josh holed himself up in his music room. And I have work to do."
I study her. Keeping everything running here must not be easy. But she can't just not care about the little girl. "Did she have breakfast?"
Jasmin squats down and pulls a pot out of the cupboard. "I tried. She didn't want anything."
She hasn't eaten anything? That can't be true. "What did you offer her?"
The pot in Jasmin's hand crashes onto the shiny countertop. "Everything. I already told you that."
I raise my hands defensively. "Understood," I say, as the situation is obviously more than uncomfortable for her. "Thanks for your help. I'll take it from here."
"Gladly." She nods briefly, then turns back to her work.
I turn to Sophia. "I like pancakes. Do you too?"
There it is. A small twitch at the corner of her mouth while she pretends to focus on her cartoon series.
"Great, I'll make us some." Motivated, I head for the refrigerator. As I take out eggs and milk, I notice Jasmin watching me. Is she afraid I'll make everything dirty even though she just finished cleaning up?
"Don't worry, I'll clean up," I say quickly. Without waiting for her reaction, I look for the rest of the ingredients. The flour packet slips out of my hand. Thankfully, the content only lands on the countertop .
"That's what I call an offer." Chuckling, she leaves the kitchen, and I slowly understand how we both can get along.
A few minutes later, I place two plates of funnily decorated pancakes on the kitchen island. "Do you want the one with the banana mouth or the one with the wild apple slice hair?"
Sophia doesn't even look.
This is going remarkably well. "Then I'll take Mr. Banana," I say cheerfully. At that moment, my stomach growls loudly. "Maybe I'll eat both."
Finally, she looks up. She shakes her head and pulls one of the plates toward herself. Handing her the fork, I smile delightedly. Though we don't talk during the meal, progress is unmistakable.
As soon as we finish our breakfast, I turn to Sophia with a conspiratorial grin. "I have a surprise for you today."
Her eyebrows furrow.
"Come with me." I extend my hand to her, but she doesn't take it. Maybe it’s too soon. Nonetheless, she follows me to the entrance area, where I retrieve an old light brown stuffed dog from my bag.
I keep it hidden behind my back for now. "Yesterday, I had the feeling that Fridolin was a bit lonely," I cautiously begin.
Sophia looks down, her fingers entwined. Surely, she realizes I'm not really talking about her faithful companion.
"He needs a friend." Now's the time to reveal the stuffed dog. "Felix, this is Sophia. Sophia, this is Felix."
She glances up at me with skepticism in her eyes. Her fingers fiddle with the fabric of her pajamas .
I give her time since she seems to need it now.
Suddenly, she takes a tiny step closer. "May I pet you?" she whispers directly to the stuffed dog in my hand.
I make sure that Felix nods.
Hesitantly, she extends her fingers toward him. Though it's hard for me, I make sure not to rush her. I don't want to pressure her.
"Hello, Felix," she murmurs, running her hand over his back. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you."
It's better for me not to interfere anymore. That Sophia has thawed this much is a real breakthrough. Relieved, I turn away.
I spot Josh.
With his hands deeply buried in his pockets, he leans against the doorway to the living room. A worried expression dominates his face, his attention fixed on his daughter.
What's he doing here? How long has he been watching us? And why?
He lifts his gaze, and our eyes meet. He doesn't say anything; he just looks at me.
This isn't right. Instinctively, I meet his gaze with a punishing look. Then I turn away and hang my bag neatly back on the coat hook.
When I turn around, he's gone.
I exhale in relief. Sophia settles comfortably with Felix in one of the large leather armchairs.
"My name is Sophia, and this is my dad's house," she explains to him while constantly stroking his fur.
I shouldn't interrupt this conversation. As inconspicuously as possible, I slip away toward the living room .
"My dad is a pianist." I hear pride in Sophia's voice, but there's something else, too. Frustration. "He has to work a lot, so we can't disturb him. That's important, do you hear?"
Abruptly, I stop. My heart grows heavy. I wish I could cheer her up right away, but we aren't that close yet.
"We have to be quiet. He doesn't like it when we laugh loudly or scream while playing. In fact, he doesn't like anything we do." Her hand pauses, and she chews on her lower lip. "Don't be sad. Daddy loves us anyway. He surely does," Sophia says over and above everything else. She sounds like she has to convince not only Felix but also herself that this is the truth.
I clench my fists until my knuckles turn white. A wave of nausea washes over me.
What kind of terrible father is Josh? Doesn't he realize the damage he's doing to his daughter with his behavior?
It's high time for a serious talk with him.