Chapter 21
Maya
With her two stuffed dogs in her arms, Sophia blinks wearily. She does everything she can to stay awake because this evening is special to her. Josh reads her a bedtime story in the dim light of the bedside lamp. It's the very first time in her life.
At the beginning, he sat stiffly on the edge of her canopy bed, but with each page, he becomes more courageous. Now he even changes his voice when the big bear speaks, giving the bear girl in the story a bright tone.
He turns the page. "And when the girl saw what the big bear had prepared, she hugged him tightly. She loved him so much that she never wanted to let him go." For a moment, he looks up at Sophia. Then he clears his throat. "And they lived happily ever after."
I let out a sigh. This story is my favorite of all.
Josh closes the book and looks at me questioningly. I try to gesture to him that now is the right time to hug his daughter.
He hesitates. And Sophia doesn't make it easy for him either. It's as if both of them are afraid of each other. And afraid of how the other will react.
Finally, he gently strokes her upper arm. "Sleep tight."
Sophia nods silently .
It wasn't successful, but it was his first attempt. I lean over the little curly head and hold her close to me. The princess-glitter scent of her shampoo fills my nose, and the warmth of her delicate body feels comforting. "Sweet dreams. Of cotton candy and balloons. Of..."
"Ponies and waterslides." She finishes my sentence, just like every other evening. Then her eyelids close. "Love you, Maya."
I hug her tightly once again, as if I never want to let go. "And I love you."
I remain in that position for a few more seconds before straightening up. My gaze meets Josh's, and not for the first time, I get the impression that he's observing me. A flicker lights up in his eyes with a longing gleam on his face.
His expression makes me nervous. It's that admiration with which he looks at me.
As if I were something special.
Nonsense. The sweet story, the princess ambience of the room, and the twinkling fairy lights on the wall are responsible for this mood. Not me.
I signal him to leave the room with me so Sophia can sleep undisturbed. We tiptoe out.
"Thank you for taking the time," I say to Josh as we walk down the stairs together. "You canceled your strategy meeting for your daughter. It means a lot to her, even if she can't show it yet."
A shy grin forms on his face. "I wasn't good at it."
I quickly shake my head. "It was your first attempt. Give yourselves a little time."
He slows his pace. "And what if I can't do it?"
What does he mean by that? I study his chiseled face, but I don't find any clues .
He leans against the wall as if a heavy weariness overcomes him. "We're flying to Stockholm tomorrow."
Of course, we are. His next concert is coming up. "Don't worry, I talked to Sophia about it. She understands that you can't always be there for her, and that's okay. As long as you give her your undivided attention from time to time."
With a depressed expression, he massages his temples. "No, it's not that." Suddenly, he pushes himself off the wall and rushes down the stairs.
I follow him on his way to the living room. Is he worried about the performance? "In the past few days, your hand seemed fine. I heard you play." And it was filled with magic, I would love to add. But it doesn't feel right to praise something he does. It's already scary enough that I forget everything around me when I listen to his music. Or look into his eyes.
He stops in front of the glass door leading to the terrace. The rays of the setting sun cast a long shadow behind him.
We all have our shadows , I hear my father whisper mournfully within me. Immediately, my muscles tense up. Shadows are something I don't want to think about.
"I won't be performing in Stockholm," he says, his upper body vibrating as if he needs to take a deep breath. Then he swallows hard. "A specialist will reconstruct the damage to my cervical spine so that my nerve pathways are clear again and the tremor stops."
It's clear this operation terrifies him. "I understand." I cautiously step closer but keep my distance just to be safe. It would have been better if he had told me earlier, then I could have prepared Sophia for it.
He whirls around. Deep furrows line his forehead. "It's my last chance." His voice breaks. He clears his throat. Several times. "And the prospect of my hand functioning again is slim."
So that's what it's about. His cursed career. That's the only thing he cares about. He doesn't care about what an impairment after a failed operation means for Sophia. It doesn't matter to him if he can be there for her.
"Why do you think your life would be over if your career ends," I say with anger in my voice.
An agitated sparkle fills his eyes. He must have expected a different reaction from me. A bit of pity. Or encouragement. He should be standing up against me now. He should rise before me and explain how foolish I am to think that way. But it doesn't happen. On the contrary. As if his strength is leaving him, he collapses onto the dark brown leather sofa. In a spot where the incoming rays of sunlight no longer reach him.
And as he supports his head in his hands, I feel the urge to sit beside him. To hug him and console him. "Why is the piano so important to you?"
"It's my passion." He doesn't sound enthusiastic.
I take a step toward him. "Maybe it once was. But right now, it seems more like a burden you can hardly bear anymore."
He looks up at me, and for seconds, his gaze meets mine. The depth of his green iris captivates me. "I've fought my whole life to be a pianist. I've defied all odds. I've contradicted anyone who said I couldn't make it." He clenches his fists. "I swore to myself never to give up."
Fascinated, I observe the determined expression forming on his face. There is so much fighting spirit within him. He seems to believe in his talent, no matter what happens.
"After years of hard work, sacrifices, and dedication, I finally have the chance to prove how wrong he was," he continues stubbornly.
Who is he ? Almost instinctively, I take another step toward him. My knees bump against the edge of the sofa next to him.
"I have to win the award. So the doubters will finally be silenced."
So that's how he sees it. Only through the prize will he know that it was right to hold on to his dream. He fights until he achieves his goal.
Lost in thought, I sink down so close to him that our arms touch. For this one moment, I wish I were as strong as he is. "How do you manage to never give up?"
He turns his head and looks directly at me. We are so close that I can feel his breath on my cheeks and smell the scent of his skin.
"If you truly want something, you have to give it your all. Nothing and no one can stop you. There is only you and your dream waiting for you."
Only me and my dream? "That's a beautiful thought."
He closes the distance between us. "What do you dream of, Maya?" His voice is gentle.
My heart rate accelerates. I shake my head without averting my gaze from him. It's as if a spell is cast upon us, forcing me to look at him. "That's not important."
Suddenly, my hand feels warm. Did he place his fingers on top of mine ?
"For me, it is."
Heat rises within me, and I can't even say where it comes from. Is it from his hand on mine? From his shoulder against mine? Or from his eyes, making me feel like he can see into the darkest corners of my soul?
I don't want this. But I can't do anything about it. "My dream was always to help children in difficult life situations," I confess. Surely, he'll tell me it's a stupid idea. Because it's the truth. I better beat him to it. "But of course, that's nonsense. I don't even have a high school diploma, so..."
"Someone very wise once told me that every journey begins with the decision to take the first step." He smiles.
I know exactly who he's quoting. He doesn't know that those weren't my words that left my mouth in Dublin Bay. They belong to my father, and I merely parroted them.
Feeling awkward, I lower my gaze, breaking the spell between us. I should be relieved, but instead, an uncomfortable coldness engulfs me. It's only now that I realize the sun has almost disappeared beyond the horizon.
"I know you can do it. Working with children is your calling. Anyone who watches you with Sophia can see that." He refuses to give up. But why? He shouldn't care about what becomes of me. "Don't wait too long, Maya. For your own sake."
No. This isn't right. He shouldn't look at me like that. And I definitely shouldn't feel this way.
I have to get away. Away from this conversation. Away from him and his longing gaze.
Swiftly, I rise, accidentally knocking my knee against the coffee table. A sharp pain shoots through me, all the way to my toes. "I have to go," I stutter, far less convincingly than I would like to. I don't allow myself to look at him. Before he can reply, I turn around and limp away.
I run away. Because it's the only thing I can truly do in life.
***
My escape doesn't work this time.
Even as we embark on our journey to Stockholm the next day, Josh's words echo in my mind. I push them away as best I can, playing our airplane game with Sophia and studying the travel guide. But when we are picked up at the airport by the inconspicuous black clinic van, and the little princess rests her head on my shoulder in a half-asleep state, it all comes flooding back.
Lost in thought, I watch as the green forests outside the city gates pass us by. The sky is streaked with wisps of thin fog, occasionally revealing the dark blue of a lake. Overnight, my knee has swollen. It hurts, and if I put too much pressure on it, I can feel my heartbeat down there. Just like back then, when I fell from the stage during our Christmas performance.
Everyone falls sometimes—that's what my father told me back then as he dried the tears on my cheek with his warm hands. It's not a big deal at all.
Vigorously, I massage my temples to banish the thoughts.
I don't want to go back there. Not now. Not here. Yet I notice how effortlessly the memories take hold of me and carry me away to a time when my life was still in order. And suddenly, I find myself sitting on the floor behind the stage once again. Surrounded by emerald green props and plastic snowflakes.
I'm in a place where no one can find me. No one except him. He is right by my side, giving me support and warmth.
"Everyone saw it. How embarrassing is that?" Heat rises within me as I think about how it must have looked. As if I couldn't even walk straight.
He pulls me into his arms, completely unconcerned about me smearing his sweater with theater makeup. His heartbeat is calm. "You'll do better at your next performance. And soon, no one will remember what happened today."
I look up at him through the veil of tears, though I can't see much of his face. Just his loving smile. "Really?"
"You know it, Maya." He kisses my forehead. "All the happiness in the world resides within you alone," he reminds me, then he rocks me back and forth as if I were still his little girl unable to fall asleep. "Inside you lives the heart of a fighter."
In search of stability, I bury my face in his woolen sweater. I smell the Christmassy scent of mulled wine and feel the rise and fall of his chest. Like an addict, I absorb everything I can from him. "I know."
Suddenly, he releases one arm from my back and pulls something out of his pocket. "This is for you," he says, presenting me with a golden music box.
Curiously, I examine the colorful ornaments on its surface. "What is this?" I would love to take the box into my hands immediately, but he signals for me to just open my hand for now. Hastily wiping the last tears from the corners of my eyes, I follow his instruction. With utmost care, he places the music box on my palm, ensuring that my fingers close around it, and finally, he places his hand on top of mine.
"Whenever you're sad. And whenever I'm not with you..." He swallows hard.
Why is he saying this? Why would he suddenly not be there anymore?
He must recognize the questions in my expression, but instead of answering me, he simply shakes his head gently.
"Whenever you lose your way. And whenever you don't know what to do next." He pauses for a moment, then looks deeply into my eyes. "Open this music box. Listen to the melody. And remember you are the greatest miracle of all."
Unable to say anything, I lower my gaze to our hands. There, beneath his fingers, lie mine. And underneath them rests the beautiful box. I'm sure it's a treasure. The most important gift of my life.
He squeezes me tightly once more. "No matter what happens, believe in yourself. Because I always will."
Back then, behind the stage of the Christmas performance, on the cold floor with theater makeup on my face, I believed every word he said. I was a fighter.
His fighter.
But I'm not anymore. Today, all of that is nothing more than a memory from a long-gone time. Faded like the misty fields above the treetops of the Swedish forests that continue to pass me by.
No matter what happens, believe in yourself. Because I always will . His words blend with what Josh told me yesterday. Not a trace of uncertainty in his eyes, not a single hesitation in his voice.
I know you can do it , Josh whispers again in his honey-warm tone in my thoughts. How I wish I could believe him and still make my dream come true.
Sneakily, I glance over at him. With closed eyes and headphones in his ears, he sits at the other end of the back seat. His chiseled jaw is relaxed, and a dreamy smile graces his lips.
He looks so content. As if he's not on the verge of that one operation that will determine the rest of his life. As if he's not here, but in his own world.
In a way, he's a bit like me. When things get tough, he escapes. But while I keep running until my legs protest, he does the opposite. Wherever he is in his thoughts right now, he's gathering strength to come back stronger than ever.
What if I can do the same? What if I can turn around and go all the way back? Does it solely depend on wholeheartedly deciding and believing in myself?
I bite my lip and lower my gaze. To quickly forget the spark of hope that just ignited within me. And to avoid losing myself even more in his gaze.