The Shaking Of An Email Without A Subject

What do you do?! 

I’m a piano tuner. 

Seriously?

Yep! Sometimes I also wonder how I ended up being one. No one in my family is particularly interested in music. I grew up in a small village in the interior of Spain. The only contact with music I could have there was in the Philharmonic or the church choir. But by chance, it was not like that that I started, my parents were unable to raise me, but as I was baptized, my aunt, the sister of my mother, was my godmother... 

They’re coming in, shall we?! I want to hear the rest of your story later, okay?! 

Sara grabbed her backpack and smiled with sympathy. He followed her with his tense and heavy walk. He would have prefered to stay there and tell her the story of his life. 

Xoan was getting bored with the classes, the teachers weren’t what he expected, and he was always getting the strange feeling that he knew more than what they were teaching. 

He followed Sara into the large classroom, the chairs were already arranged in a half-moon, in the center and facing the chairs, the teacher was silently standing, waiting, while the students, primarily women, arrived. 

Prepared that he was to sit and cross his leg, in a comfortable position and little or no interaction, it was with amazement and displeasure that he received the invitation of the teacher to get up. 

All rise up. Let’s start by doing a little Qi Gong to aid in the digestion of our lunch and promote our brains' concentration and attention. Let’s close the right hand, and now let’s start hitting with the right hand closed on our left arm, top to bottom, just like that, Poh, Poh! Dry and energizing little punches, exactly, this will improve circulation and increase oxygenation.

These words made Xoan feel an overwhelming urge to leave. That wasn’t what he was expecting, and now, now what?! 

To move the open arms from left to right and vice versa, as one who takes flight from the waist up, as one who dances... as one...how repulsive!

He was a serious man, with so much experience of life, so much suffering, and now making those ridiculous figures as if he was happy, as if everything in his life had lost its meaning? He could not let the past escape, like this, thus, in a space created by the movement of his own body; in a room full of women, in such a simple way, so childish?  No way! 

It was urgent to get out of there before he did or said something stupid, and so, in an abrupt and quick gesture, he grabbed his things and left without saying a word. 

What happened? Asked the teacher - Did I do something wrong?! 

The colleagues were looking at each other, surprised by that erratic attitude, and said “no” in unison, and everyone started talking about Xoan. 

Did he really leave? Did anyone notice if he was sick or anything? Was he upset about anything? I mean, he always seems a little stressed out, doesn’t he!? Yeah! That’s true!

Sara, you were talking to him earlier. Did you notice anything? 

Not really. He seemed fine, he was telling me about his childhood, nothing more...

Xoan is a strange person! Yep, I agree, he was constantly criticizing everything, the classes, the teachers, even the food...

So it wasn’t my fault? No, nothing, professor! No?! I’m relieved; let's get on with the class then. Does anyone have his contact information, e-mail, or phone number? 

I have his email! I will write to him right now. Sara grabbed the phone and wrote. 

“Hello Xoan, Is everything alright with you? You left us all worried; if you need anything, say so. see you tomorrow, kisses, Sara.”

The class proceeded without further embarrassment. And at the end of the day, Sara received a reply from Xoan. 

“Hello Sara, thank you for your care. I’m not going back to school, I’ve decided to return to Spain, I have some urgent business to attend to, and my daughter needs me. I will also send an e-mail to the course secretary to let you know. Thanks again, X”

After rereading the e-mail, Sara sipped a small sip of tea, her head shaking slightly between right and left, in disapproval. She felt a bit sad with Xoan’s attitude, perhaps intrigued, but still not enough to send him back an email. 

The next day, colleagues wanted to know things about Xoan; Sara read the email out loud. One of his colleagues said - I had lunch with him the other day; he told me that he had severe problems with alcohol... 

While her colleague was speaking, Sara checked her inbox once again; on the small phone screen, a new email was waiting to be opened; however, it was not from Xoan, but from an old friend, with whom she had not spoken for a long time.

Excuse me; I have to go to the bathroom. She got up from the chair and went down the corridor while the half-century life of the wooden floor was giving music to Sarah’s restless walk. 

Finally, privately and sitting on the toilet, Sara prepared herself to open that email from the past, her heart was beating fast, and her finger trembled nervously, and suddenly, without any warning, the toilet underneath Sara started shaking. 

Ouch! There’s no reason to be so nervous, thought Sara, but soon after, she felt the toilet shaking again, moving strangely and vigorously, and although still sitting she was losing her balance! 

Her quickest and most disoriented reaction was to open her arms like an airplane and press her hands against the walls of the small division, trying to stabilize her whole body, but the tremor continued, and now there was no doubt it was an earthquake. 

Time would seem stretched. Sara was having difficulties moving, while she just wanted to get out of the building and on to the street as fast as possible, her legs trembled, her arms were loosing strength, when she finally managed to put her hand on the lock, the door opened easily, Sara threw herself out, and with no apparent explanation, fell lifeless. 

Minutes later, a colleague entered the bathroom and, amazed to find Sara on the floor, screamed for help before approaching her - Hey, are you okay?! Hey, wake up! Sara opened her eyes, felt nauseous. Oooh! What happened? I don’t know, I just arrived and saw you on the floor. Are you okay?! I think so... how long did the earthquake last? There was an earthquake, wasn’t there? 

Is she okay? Another colleague asked from the bathroom door. 

It seems so! But what earthquake are you talking about? As far as I know, there was none; when I got here, you were lying on the floor, passed out. Do you need help getting up? I think I can, thank you, so does that mean there was no earthquake at all? It just seems odd because, I mean, I was here... And as she said these words, Sarah picked up the phone, which  still lay on the floor inside the little room, and shoved it discreetly into the back pocket of the jeans. 

At the bathroom entrance, a few more curious and worried faces were piling up, and Sara could hear the comments - What happened? Is she okay? It seems that she fainted! Does she have epilepsy? Not that I know of, she looks fine.  

I’m fine, thank you, there’s no cause for alarm; it must have just been a breakdown. 

And finally ready to leave that bathroom, Sara made her way through her classmates who opened space politely and solemnly.

She made her way back to the room under the same high ceilings hallway, picked up her things, and made her way to the stairs leading to the street. Too much excitement for today, she thought, I have to breathe fresh air and rest! 

She walked through the garden and then stretched out her coat on the grass and lay on it, pulled the phone out of her back pocket, and wondered if she should try to see the email again.

But instead, she ended up looking online for news about earthquakes, earthquakes by the minute, earthquakes felt by just one person; earthquakes that can make your body shake; strange earthquakes; bathroom earthquakes. 

In the middle of her research, Sara received a phone call from her sister, answered, and decided to tell her about the strange experience.

On the other side of the line, her sister asked, so what is the subject? What do you mean, what is the subject? The subject of the email? Ah! There's no subject! 

Oooh! You see, if the email has no subject, your body is clearly avoiding it. 

What do you mean? I don’t understand... you’re saying that my body won’t let me read the email because it's subjectless!? 

Exactly!

Come on, that’s just bullshit! 

Sara, the best thing you can do is to send that fool an email, asking him to forward the content of the same email, in another, but this time with the subject! 

But I haven’t talked to him in over ten years, and you know why, of course, I’m not going to email him and ask him to do that. 

You see, then once again understand that your body is right, look, how could an email from a fool you haven’t seen for so long ever include anything exciting or essential if it doesn’t have a subject! 

After hearing some more nonsense, Sara, who even laughed for a few minutes, was still worried about her condition, was she going crazy or with some neurological problem? After hanging up, she got up, put the phone back in her jeans, grabbed her jacket, put it on carefully after shaking it, and more or less neatly went to the hotel where she was staying during those days. 

The following day, she woke up in a good mood, took a shower, dressed, dried, combed, and spontaneously caught her hair, brushed her teeth, massaged her face with morning cream, and vaporized a soft breeze of cologne on her chest, picked up the coat that was on the bed and left the room. 

She reached for the button to call the elevator but hesitated and decided to take the stairs. 

After descending the six flights of stairs, she finally appeared in the lobby, this time, and for the first time, she was in the hall with a new perspective of it, and it was when she left the last steps of the staircase behind that she first noticed the piano. 

She approached the piano to admire it, it was a very old one, and had two candle holders, one at each end of the keyboard. 

The keys were of different pearl tones, some more intense, some softer, were like tracks, and Sara imagined that a connoisseur of pianos would undoubtedly know what kind of songs would have been played on that piano - Oh yes, for sure this piano loved Chopin! 

She ran her hand across one or two keys and went to the street, that day she decided to delete the email without a subject, maybe her sister was right, and then, surprisingly, started writing an email to Xoan.

“Hey Xoan, you can run, but you can’t hide, lol! I know you’re a piano tuner with a godmother and a daughter, and you care about health and well-being. Tell me more, who knows if you can also be a people's tuner. A hug, Sara.”