Chapter 40
Fiona
Ishuffled ahead in line to buy a card to ride the subway. Four women were ahead of me, and all the machines had people in front of them. I sighed, wishing I was next. The thick air went into my lungs like molasses as I breathed. The humidity of the summer day caused my jeans to cling to my sweaty legs.
I rolled my neck, trying to loosen my tight muscles. I managed only to aggravate them, and I cringed. After a night of tossing and turning, I had awoken to a stiff neck. My heavy eyelids fluttered, straining to stay open given the combination of lack of sleep, lack of caffeine, and the unbearable heat.
The whooshing sound mixed with the squealing of an approaching train became louder and perked me up. I looked at the number on display outside of the train and saw that it wasn’t the one I needed to board. Mine would be next. I moved ahead in line. The PA announcement that the train was leaving the station was accompanied by the sound of people’s dress shoes clicking on the concrete floor. A young man’s tennis shoes pounded the stairs by me. He ran past me, causing a slight warm breeze. It offered no relief to the hot, muggy air of the underground platform. Men in business suits and women in dresses came down the stairs in large groups. I yawned, still not fully awake.
As I moved ahead again, a soft, angelic voice accompanied by the sound of violin strings grew louder. The musicians stood just a few feet away. The violinist leaned into the movement of his bow, creating a high-pitched quivering sound, as each note seemed to dissolve into one another. Watching him made my heart ache because I longed to play my violin once more. I took a deep breath. After I got my cast off that afternoon, I would get to do that.
The line moved, and I stepped forward. Only one more person stood in front of me. I swayed slightly from side to side, in rhythm with the long notes of the strings. My heavy eyelids nearly closed. Her soprano voice was so… I closed my eyes for a second… Hauntingly beautiful. I kept them shut.
Maybe I’ll rest for a second.
Like the last song on an album, the music faded out until there was silence. My head nodded. I drifted asleep until I bumped into the woman ahead of me.
Opening my eyes and regaining my balance, I mumbled, “Sorry.”
The short old lady looked at me with furrowed eyebrows for a second, shook her head, and went back to staring at the screen. She probably thought I was drunk, because I slurred my speech due to sleep deprivation. Even though I felt like a zombie, barely able to move, I was going to that doctor’s appointment to get the damn cast off.
The man began to play a new tune. Luckily, it didn’t sound like a lullaby. The woman kept standing there, fixated on the screen but not selecting any of the options.
“Come on, lady,” I said, loudly enough for her to hear.
She turned around. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never been here,” she said in a thick accent that I couldn’t place. She looked up at me with puppy-dog eyes that seemed about to burst. She held her cross necklace between her thumb and forefinger, swaying it back and forth.
My need to keep moving to avoid drifting off to sleep again surpassed any compassion I had for her. The machine next to me opened up, and I stepped over. Touching my selection on the screen, I said, “Damn tourist.”
“Ignore her. I’ll help you.” A man narrowed his eyes at me and stepped up to assist her.
I rolled my eyes and got my card from the machine. Avoiding eye contact, I passed them.
After I got on the train, I held onto a pole with my one good arm. As the train took off, guilt for snapping at the stranger washed over me. I felt super guilty—overly so. She was just trying to figure out the subway system. And that look she gave me was as if I’d stabbed her in the chest with a knife. As I remembered her eyes welling up with tears, mine became moist from regret. Hold it together, woman! She survived. In fact, she probably had gotten over it. I should too. I blamed my overly emotional demeanor on lack of sleep.
According to the doctor, my arm had healed perfectly. When I tried to pay the receptionist my co-pay, my hands were shaky. Pulling my credit card out of my wallet seemed too fine of a motor skill for my trembling hands. It took three tries to get it out.
“Are you all right, dear?” she asked, taking my card and steadying it with her grip.
“Yeah, I skipped breakfast. Probably shouldn’t have.”
“Here.” She gave me a box of raisins from her purse. “You like them?”
I nodded and took the box. “Thanks.”
She handed me my card back with a receipt. I signed the sloppiest signature possible due to my quivering hand.
On the way home, I held onto the poles in the train with both hands and stood. Wow! That’s more like it. No more hanging on by one hand. The train took off, and I didn’t sway as much as before. I smiled ear to ear, enjoying the use of both hands.
∞ ∞ ∞
I had the rest of the afternoon off of work, so when I got home, I thought I’d finally play the violin. I put one of my favorite pieces of music on the stand. The Irish jig was a bit bold for my first piece after not playing for over four weeks, but I would try.
I picked up my violin case and opened it. “Hello, old friend.”
I took the bow and held it. So far, so good. The sandwich I ate must have helped my shaky nerves from earlier. I set the bow on my lap and held the violin by its neck. I brought the butt of the instrument up to my neck and rested the violin on my collarbone. My jaw held it in place.
I took a deep breath and began to play. It was like riding a bike—it all came back. The music began with an upbeat, cheery tempo. The bow glided across the strings perfectly. Oh, how I missed this. In my mind, I had Celtic Crescendo playing with me, producing a rich sound. Then the tune became scratchy. I stopped. Ugh, that’s not right. Concerned, I creased my forehead. I started again picking up where I left off. For a while, the sound I produced was back on track. Then my fingers on the bow lost their placement, causing more off notes. I put the violin on my lap and held the quivering bow up.
Damn, that’s not good. Maybe I cut too far back on the coffee.
I brewed some. When it was done, I poured a cup of the dark roast. The aroma of strong coffee wafted up to my nose, and I smiled. Relief was on its way. I fixed myself a small cup. I poured the vitamin supplement Daisy had given me into the mug, but I realized it was my last packet.
Later on, I tried to complete the song again. That time, I nearly did. It made me think it was caffeine withdrawal causing my lack of playing ability, or maybe lack of caffeine with the vitamins. If I had just one more cup, I bet I could do it. I could play like I used to, all the way to the end.
I had to finish that song, because I was a perfectionist when it came to my music. Desperate for more vitamins, I called Daisy. I would have gone to the store and bought more, but I didn’t know where she got them, and they came in a plain white packet.
Daisy answered, “Hey, girl.”
“Hey, I need to know where I can buy some more of those vitamins you gave me,” I asked, pacing.
“Oh, can you hold on a sec?”
“Sure.” I sat in the kitchen and tapped my fingers on the table, drumming them from my forefinger to my pinky.
“Actually, I have some more I can give you if you want them.”
“That’s too much trouble.” My foot bounced up and down while my toes clung to the carpet. “I just need to know what brand it is or where you got it, and I’ll go get some more.”
“I’ll meet you at the corner diner in an hour. I have plenty to share.”
“Thanks. See ya then.” I hung up.
∞ ∞ ∞
When I left the diner with my new supply, I ran into the derelict’s cart. Items spilled out as he stopped.
Son of a bitch, why won’t this guy go away?
“You went back for more,” he said, scooping up the things on the ground.
Okay, I can’t resist engaging anymore. “What are you doing, stalking me?”
“Do you feel that line between need and want blurring?” he asked, dumping his belongings back into the cart.
“What are you talking about?” I threw my hands up in the air as the heat from my flushed face increased. “You’re crazy, and if you don’t stop harassing me, I’m calling the cops.”
“You do know.” His icy blue eyes locked with mine as he grabbed my arm. “You had to get more, didn’t you?” He tightened his dirty hands around my newly healed forearm.
Wincing, I stared at my arm, which was turning red. “Get off.” As soon as he released his grip slightly, I yanked it away. “It’s just vitamins, you idiot. It’s not whatever fresh hell you’re on.”
He smirked. “Is that what they’re telling you?”
“Enough, this conversation is over.” I sprinted home, eager to get away.
I ran all the way up the stairs and into my apartment. Locking the door behind me, I puffed my cheeks out like a blowfish and exhaled.
I leaned on the door, gripping my purse strap, trying to absorb what just happened. It can’t be, can it? I refused to believe Daisy would get me addicted to some illegal drug. That guy is clearly unstable. I’d be a fool to listen to him.
Screw him. Daisy is my friend. I walked to the kitchen. I’m having more coffee with this supplement, and I’ll feel better.
I brewed more coffee, planning to have just one more cup. I looked through some sheet music to practice, a nice distraction from thinking about the encounter with the crazy man. I found several that I loved.
The percolating of the coffee interrupted my thoughts. I took one of the packets from my purse and emptied it into the cup. Just a little more.