Forever Kind of Love

Chapter 13

I've been in the hospital for hours now. It feels like years. I just keep staring at my left hand. My wrist and thumb are swollen with ugly bruises covering it. It doesn't look as bad as my hip and thighs, which the doctor explains suffered muscle contusions, but I don't need my hip and thigh to play.

My wrist has a scaphoid fracture. The doctor tells me I am lucky that the fracture is close to the thumb where there is better blood flow. He smiles when he lets me know that I won't even need surgery. He keeps repeating how lucky I am that I only need a cast for a month and then a wrap for another month. I don't smile back or tell him how grateful I am, even if I should. Thankfully, Ace is with me and pulls the doctor aside to talk to him. I can see the exact moment Ace tells him I am a pianist. The doctor's mouth turns down at the corners before he shoots me a sympathetic glance and shakes his head at whatever Ace saying. I have to take deep breathes to hold the sobs in.

How long would I have to go without playing? How many competitions would I miss? How would I sound when I finally did get to play again? These questions play on repeat in my brain as they put the cast on, as Blaire and Ace take me back to my apartment. Ace even offers to sleep on my couch tonight, but I wave him aside. I held back all my emotions at the hospital and in the car because I wanted to be alone when I let it all out.

I'm still crying by the time it gets dark. I had just called Isabelle to tell her and my parents what happened, and they were sympathetic, but didn't really understand. Nobody except my piano teacher would. I dread calling her. I don't know if her heart will break right along with mine or if she will be angry with me. Angry for putting myself in danger and trying to break my fall. Furious with the world for taking away my opportunities, because not only was I supposed to play in two big competitions, but I was supposed to perform a concerto with the Philadelphia Orchestra in the beginning of December. I had kept it a secret from everyone, hoping to surprise them when the orchestra posted the official announcement. It's my favorite orchestra in the United States and such a huge opportunity. Now I will have to call them and tell them I can't play. After applying for five years in a row to perform with them, I have to tell them I can't do it.

I fallasleep exhausted, desperately hoping today was just a terrible dream.