The page-turner

The page-turner

Hugo Díaz

The liquid noise was growing in my ears. It was the first time I had heard it so early in the morning. The murmur added to the sleep of the night, anaesthetising the morning and the body.

She made it to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and with the pill on her tongue, she drank some water. She looked at herself in the mirror and after a while, she could see the reconciliatory effect in her eyes. She got dressed.

She wanted to see some traces of rain on the street, some drops marking the asphalt that would calm her for a moment. But as she was going out, the summer sun attacked her skin. She stepped onto the dry, dirty pavement.

In the psychiatrist’s office after talking about what had happened that morning, she looked at the time on the wall clock. She listened to the doctor’s questions with some interference. She lied when she said she was still receiving treatment from the analyst. She had left therapy a few weeks earlier, tired of talking about her childhood and the terrifying figure of her mother, that strict woman dedicated to her profession as a concert pianist, who taught her solfège during her childhood naps. Nor did she want to repeat how much she had suffered when she saw her disapproving face after giving her first concert at the age of thirteen. And that at home she was forced to study and practice twice per day. She was overwhelmed by the failed exercises to overcome stage fright. The professional signed the prescription with the details of the medication as if it was a sentence and let her go.

She exited the pharmacy. She started to walk and the noise seemed to exert little electric shocks inside her muscles that went up to her head.

At the door of the building, the boy who always wore an urgent look and gestures of kindness was waiting for her but his body was held by sadness. His name was Adrian, a Thursday pupil. She gave piano lessons to the young people in the neighbourhood and every other Saturday to some older ladies.

The woman ordered the boy to sit down at the piano and review the previous lesson, then she went to the kitchen. She opened a drawer and pulled out a knife. Dull eyes roamed over the blade and she rested a finger on the tip. In a hurry she went into the bathroom. Looking at herself in the mirror she held the knife to one of her ears. Behind the noise, she could hear the student’s melody. She lowered her hand and waited. He alerted her to the mobile phone ringing on the table. She ran over and picked up the device. The voice on the other end slid along with the noise. After affirming several times, she hung up. Releasing a pensive sigh, she said it was a job offer for a concert in another province. Adrian asked for more details and after listening to them assured her that there were beautiful rivers in that place and that it was not bad to continue as a page-turner. He then hesitated expressions of joy which he immediately turned off.

In the hotel room, she went over the scores for the concert. Her mother called this action “cohesive solidity”. She never quite understood why, but she called these moments by the same name.

She noticed that the dress she was about to put on had a torn crease in it. In her handbag she found a needle and a thread. Before the last stitch of darning, she felt the prick in her finger. In the bathroom. she washed off the blood and experienced a serenity in her ears. The abundant water on her hands muffled the noise. She was instantly startled by knocking on the door and a voice telling her she needed to leave.

She was not taken with the other musicians as she was usually taken before the concert. She was led through nooks and crannies until she reached a kind of office in the large theatre. The woman reckoned they could be just below the stage, sounds of instruments being tuned drifted from the ceiling. A fat man with a cosmetically fixed nose introduced himself as Lorenzo Fernández, the organiser, and stretched out his hand in greeting. He immediately mentioned that the pianist for the evening had suffered an accident and would not be performing. The conductor had spoken highly of her and everyone thought she was the right one to replace him. She didn’t say a word, even when the obese man added that she would also have a page-turner.

The same man who had driven her to Fernandez’s office dropped her off backstage moments before she entered the stage. She began to see everything around her in a flat, insubstantial way. The ringing in her ears grew louder. She tried to concentrate on the words “cohesive solidity”, but it had no effect. She waited for the applause for the conductor and sat down at the piano.

The music was slowly eating away at the racket in her ears. For an instant, she found herself volatile.
Despite her concentration, she could not avoid the puzzled look of the new page-turner, as if a danger was lurking over her shoulders. Then she felt the bare back. She remembered that she hadn’t finished repairing the dress. The noise insisted on belonging to all thoughts. Dazed, she sat up. She held the front of the garment and left the stage with her head down and her steps short. Outside the theatre, she began to run. She didn’t stop until she reached the river. The noise had the effect of burning into her skin with every movement. She took off her shoes and jumped into the water. After a second, a kind of placidity began to take over her veins, her head, and her whole body. She let herself be carried by the current. In the gloom, she knew she was approaching something blunt, but before she collided with it it forked and she could see both sides of the rock.

Hugo Díaz-He studied Literature. He began his literary activity writing poetry. In the short story genre he has won prizes in different literary competitions such as first place in the IV contest Literatura de Relatos y Poesía, Barcelona 2021. First prize in the Nyctelios 2022 competition, Mexico.