The Tune That Carries Us Home

After sipping her espresso in this packed restaurant, it was quiet for a moment and I could hear her yelling to the waiter, "The bill and my wheelchair, please". I've been madly in love with Mary ever since.

Frank stared at me the whole time through dinner at “Angelo’s” after my premiere as the first female solo cellist in the orchestra. I had been working towards it for years. “Best cellist in the country at 24”, wrote “Classics Today”. Or was I just the best cellist in a wheelchair? I always wondered.

Before the fall, I was just the best. My father always said I had gypsy blood because Fila looked after me, a Roma from Rumania.

The water wasn't as deep as I had thought before the jump. The nerves are severed in the second lumbar vertebra, said the doctor. I was 9 then.

When Marie pulls up the covers in the morning, still sleepy, I love to stroke her bare feet. Sometimes she smiles with her eyes closed. Maybe she's dreaming something nice. She does not feel my hands there. But I rub them always before I touch her toes so they are warm. You never know what’s happening. You never know. Always be prepared for a surprise.

My brain always tells my legs to move when I lay in bed with my eyes closed. I command them. But they don’t listen.

Buildings? Mary does not care about buildings. I do. Do you know what a good building is for me? A good building is one you admire from the outside and do not notice from the inside. That's my philosophy as an architect. As a becoming architect. As an unemployed architect. Since after my studies I have been working for the building authorities. Sketching buildings for the administration at the age of 33 is not what I planned to do. The building authority resides in a house that I don't notice from the outside and would like to tear down from the inside.

My arms work for my legs too moving the wheelchair. So I cover them. Frank always rolls up my sleeves when we are at home, it is embarrassing, you know. My arms simply have too many muscles.

Mary always was beautiful to me. I love well defined lines of muscles and bones. She's a skyline I could never build!

You saw us once, didn’t you? I am sorry for that. You have to know, he was not rude to me. He never was. He always was gentle. This morning in bed, I just had to be firm because he wanted to move my legs. This is my job.

At the wedding, I carried your mom down the steps from St.James church. Our friends were there, you know them; Carlos from the university, my student friend Jenny, and Fila, the gypsy nanny of her childhood days. I remember, when I reached the square in front of the church, a young woman passed by and told a man, “This is how I want to be carried by you!“ I sat your mum in the wheelchair, and the woman groaned „Oh my God!“, and turned away.

I never thought about having surgery. The other day I saw a report at CBS New York talking something like “helping the paralyzed walk again has long been the Holy Grail of spinal cord injury research“. Bullshit. I am not delusional. My life is complete. When I am in a restaurant and I am lucky, there is a bathroom for men, a bathroom for women, and a bathroom for the disabled. I belong to the third gender.

You have to know, I hate hospitals since I was a boy. When I was 5 years old, I remember a woman coming out of ICU on crutches, her face still puffy. I did not even recognize my mother. The van driver hadn't seen her when she crossed the street. She still held the 20 bucks in her fist as she lay on the ground, the paramedics told me when they gave me the money. She never took a wallet with her when she went to the liquor store. The money was just enough for the bottle of gin, and the boy behind the counter would always get the 90 cents of change. After weeks in hospital, my mom came up to me in the hallway of the hospital, and I looked up to her. When we entered the bus, she said, “Take my crutches“, and I could feel the warm handrails as the bus started to move.

You know, my interpretation of Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 in G Major was, what brought me to the top. The piece floats like water. You just need to follow the waves, sculpt them, and even when they are disrupted by a cut like a knife, the tune re-calibrates again, finds its way, to keep flowing.

I want you to know that I never asked your mom to change anything. To me, she was perfect as she was. I had found that beautiful old lighthouse and started to remodel everything so your mom could move around the way she needed. On top of the stairs, I put a swing for us!

My gypsy nanny Fila always knew what was coming even before the house disaster. She stood at the foot of the steps to St. James church after everyone had thrown their rice on us, and she whispered to Frank to “always remember“, as she gave him a tuning fork. I still see his dazzled face as he put the tuning fork into his pockets.

You know, at the wedding, your auntie Fila gave me a tuning fork, and on our honeymoon, your mom showed me how to use it. You have to knock one of the two ends and then hold the bottom on your ear to get the tune. Your mom was so good at sensing, she even could feel the sound when I held it on her belly!

It was a Monday, right after the rehearsal with the new conductor at the opera, when I got the phone call. A doctor of the Kentucky Spinal Cord Injury Research Center told me about their findings. Remember when we did that weekend trip to Louisville and stayed in that cozy B’n’B near the university? This was when they showed me this remote control.

My friend Carlos never really got why I loved your mom. He told me they looked for architects in Australia and asked me to leave my job at the administration and come with him. I kicked him out of my apartment. With all her flaws and merits, your mom was the perfect woman for me!

You could have lived in a beautiful house, honey. When your dad and I came to the wedding reception in that hotel with this terrific fountain, your grandpa Sky––my dad––gave us the keys for a brand new home––and Frank totally lost it. Since we dated at “Angelo’s“, Frank wanted us to move into this old rotten lighthouse. It never made sense! All these stairs! My dad gave me the keys and Frank took them and threw them right into the fountain. Your grandpa got all wet in his tuxedo when he searched for it on the ground.

Do you remember when we took the bus to visit my mom after office? As a kid, you were always such a great explorer. I gave you that microscope for your birthday, and when my mom cried again that evening, you shared you had found out that tears have exactly the same amount of salt and minerals as the ocean: “When we cry, we remember where we come from!“ This touched me so. I am sorry my mom slapped you in the face for that. I knew she does not mean that, she never did.

When I told Fila that I would do the surgery, she asked me: “Are you sure?“ I was. I had to find out if I was also acknowledged as the top national cellist without the handicap bonus. Fila said, “Everything will change“. Great! I always wanted to go one step further than anybody else. I would be an inspiration for everyone.

It was a crazy time. Your mom had that electrical stimulator implanted on her spinal cord. She could turn it on and off by holding a remote over the controller on her abdomen. She worked so hard, honey! Every single day I visited her for hours. She needed to so intensely concentrate. One day I wanted to cheer her up, so I shared a dream with her I had the night before. We were on a cruise ship and there were cords with colored lights hanging over us. The ship moved through the rough sea, and she stood in front of me and gave me a kiss!

On the 15th day, I was so devastated that my toes and legs did not move when your dad shared that dream. In it, I kissed him on his lips, and he did not need to bend down for it. I so wanted that. I focused again on my nerves. You know, doctors used to believe the spinal cord was a kind of passive relay of signals from the brain to the legs. That’s not true! The spinal cord is active, it has a will itself! I pushed my body up from the armrest, and further up, and commanded my nerves: MOVE! Up there, for a moment, my hands let go, and for a blink of a second, I floated in the air, right in front of his lips!

When Mary stood in the hospital hallway at the next day, her hair covered her face, she looked at her legs, and they both walked, one after the other, slowly, crookedly, flanked by two crutches, but her beautiful legs walked for two steps. Your mom looked up and saw me. I felt as if a fist hit my stomach. Three weeks later, I left her.

I never regretted my step. Whatever was wrong with your dad, it was his decision. I asked him: What do you want? I want you, he said. But you want my old self, I yelled. This is all I know, he said.

I never told your mom all of the dream I had that night before she made it. Yes, there were cords with colored lights above us but they were not lit. Instead, the whole ship was dark as we moved through the sea. I could not see the ocean, we moved through thick fog, and your mom stood in front of me smiling when I heard a siren right behind me. Then she kissed me and I woke up.

I had to move on. Thank God, I did. I never would have come to all these magnificent places around the world, Verona, Tokyo, Melbourne. The musical world cherished me, and I was the woman rising.

I did not understand myself. Here was the woman I loved, shining. And all I felt was mist and anger. You know, your mom asked me on our honeymoon, “Are you never angry?“ No, I said, and I never was. Now I could hardly walk with that fist in my belly.

Your dad always was a boy in a way. And this was cute. But I needed a man at my side. And when he degraded the opera, my dad told me I needed to divorce him.

Sure it was a stupid idea. But it was fun. It was the last thing Carlos and I did before he left for Australia. We sneaked into the opera and waited till the last musician had left. Then we went to the stage and opened the red curtain.

When I came to rehearsal for “Tosca“ the next morning, everybody looked at me weird. I walked with my cello down the stairs to the concert hall, and there it was. On the set with the painting of the church of Sant’Andrea della Valle, I saw a painted skyline with fantastic buildings covering the saints, and right above the face of Mary Magdalene stood: I love you, Mary. Frank had made such a fool out of me.

When you were 12, you found that eagle feather, do you remember? It was right after they had fired me in the building authority and I had found this home office job for that studio. I am sorry I never could provide a great villa for you, sweetheart. The lighthouse was pretty messy, and the windows hardly closed. But I always loved to play hide and seek with you after school and climb up the stairs to check if we would see deer on the vast land. One time, there was an eagle breeding.

As an encore at the end of each concert, I like to play “Chiftitelli“ now by Adam Hurst, a Gypsy Cello piece. Before I start, I stand up. The audience gets up with me. What a celebration! The Japanese just love it. I wrote history, sweetheart. This only was possible because you were with me in my heart wherever I went. I know it was not always easy. I could see you only in between gigs. But standing there on the stages of the world after sitting in the wheelchair for years, was like landing on Venus. Never forget honey, you can always reach your goal even with the biggest obstacles.

Last spring, I built this little straw dome in the backyard of the lighthouse. I have more time now after you left the house. I still have the tuning fork, I now wear it so long in the pocket of my pants, it created a silhouette in the jeans. Fila laughed about it when I visited her. She sends her love.

Sometimes after rehearsals, I take the cello and play the Bach suite again.

Sometimes I stand in the lighthouse at night and hear the Bach suite again.

There is an echo, a tune.

Can you forgive us?