Page 42 of The Pianist's Wife
‘Open,’ he said, as if he were feeding a child.
Amira wanted to resist, but there was something about the way he was staring at her, his expression full of concern, that meant she did as he asked, letting him spoon the soup into her mouth. When they were done, he set the bowl down and took her by the hand,lifting her when she cried so hard she couldn’t walk and carrying her to bed.
He placed there her carefully and took off her shoes, before pulling the blanket up to her chin and tucking her in tightly. He even pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
‘Fred,’ she said, as he stood.
He looked down at her.
Amira wanted to ask him to stay with her,triedto say the words, but in the end she didn’t need to say a thing. Because he quietly took off his own shoes and climbed in beside her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as she fought a fresh wave of tears.
‘You’re the only one who understands,’ she eventually whispered.
He didn’t reply, but his arms around her tightened, and she knew that he felt the same. They’d both lost the loves of their lives. They’d both endured heartache and feared persecution in a way that few could understand, and she needed Fred more than she’d ever needed anyone before.
Chapter Twenty
Amira woke to the sound of Fred playing the piano. She’d heard it over the past week, as she’d drifted in and out of sleep, but today, instead of pulling the covers over her head and hiding from the world, she decided to rise. She rubbed her eyes and went to the mirror, horrified at the state of her hair and complexion, her eyes red-rimmed and her skin blotchy in a way she’d never seen it before. She spent the next few minutes washing her face and brushing her long hair out until it resembled something presentable, before putting on her robe and walking out into the sitting room.
When he saw her, Fred stopped playing immediately.
‘Please, don’t stop on my behalf,’ she said.
He nodded and resumed, and instead of walking past him as she’d always done previously, Amira slid on to the seat beside him and watched his long, tapered fingers as they danced across the keys. It was truly something extraordinary to watch.
She had no concept of time as she watched and listened, but when he finally finished, his fingers hovering over the now silent keys, she instinctively dropped her head to his shoulder.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
Fred nodded and placed his fingers over hers for a moment. ‘Can I make you a coffee?’
She didn’t reply, and they sat there together for some time before he finally cleared his throat and stood, offering her his hand.
‘Coffee it is then,’ he said, helping her to her feet and guiding her into the kitchen.
They silently made coffee together, as if they’d been doing such a thing all their lives, but it wasn’t until Fred turned to her, his cup in hand, that he spoke again.
‘We have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, Amira,’ he said. ‘Because I refuse to believe that the best is behind us.’
As tears streamed down her cheeks, she shuffled closer to Fred, forcing herself to sip her coffee as his words played over and over in her mind. Because he was right, they did have to believe that things would get better, otherwise what did they ever have to look forward to?
‘I have rehearsals this afternoon for my next concert, and they’ll continue on most afternoons for the next week or so,’ Fred said. ‘Will you be alright without me for a few hours?’
She nodded and he turned to her, his eyes catching hers, as if he wasn’t convinced.
‘Each day will get a little easier,’ he said, his smile kind. ‘I promise.’
Chapter Twenty-One
Fred hadn’t come home. Amira was trying not to panic, but after the way he’d cared for her and looked after her in the month since Maxi’s passing, she was finding it hard to believe that he simply wouldn’t return home.
The apartment was silent, and so she went to sit at his piano, placing her fingers over the keys as she thought back to exactly when she’d last seen him and what he’d said. They’d had breakfast together that morning – she’d woken to him playing and had made them both something for when he finished – and then he’d said he was going to be rehearsing at the hall for another upcoming concert.
Worry began to gnaw at her stomach, and she leaned down over the piano, trying to tell herself that he must have stayed to rehearse for longer, or been waylaid by his musician friends. Fred had become the person she relied on each day, the person who kept her going, and as she glanced outside and saw darkness creeping across the sky, she knew that something was wrong.
Where are you, Fred?It was so unlike him not to be at home at this time of day, and as she placed her cheek against the cool keys of the piano, she tried to imagine a logical reason for his evening absence. And came up with none.
It had been three days. Three long, torturous days of waiting and wondering what had happened, trying to imagine what she would do if Fred never walked back through the door of their apartment again, when she saw him. Amira had only left to get groceries, but the lines were much longer than ever before, and she’d ended up away from home for at least two hours. And now, she could barely believe her eyes as she walked down the street to their apartment.
