The Pianoplayer: A lesbian love story

by Rosalie Sommer

  Michelle was deep in thought when she reached her destination. As if by remote control, she handed over the requested amount to the driver and went straight to her room where she dropped her coat lost in thought. Desperately sobbing, she lay down on her bed. How could all this have developed this momentum of its own? Tears rolled down her cheeks, which seconds later dripped onto the fresh white of the bedding. Dark thoughts billowed over her. She lay there for minutes before she could calm down a bit.

  She turned on her back, took a deep breath and reached for a handkerchief. Still she could not think clearly, but she urged herself to be sensible. She blew her nose and tried to calm down. More and more an uneasy feeling took possession of her, an inner restlessness that could not be shaken off. It was as if she had finally received bad news, which she saw coming towards her in slow motion and which she had not been able to prevent from coming, despite all her efforts.

  Because she could not free herself from this dark feeling, she decided to go outside again. She could not stand this room any longer - she needed air. So she grabbed her coat, which she had carelessly thrown on the parquet floor, threw it loosely over her shoulders and ran out onto the hotel forecourt.

  There she first walked restlessly up and down before giving in to an unexpected impulse. She abruptly turned around and rushed back into the hotel and to the reception desk. "Do you have bicycles? Can you lend me a bike?" she surprised the stunned receptionist.

  "Yes, we did. But at this hour?! It's the middle of the night."

  "Yeah. Whatever. I need it bad. What do I have to do to get one?" The French woman was determined not to let up.

  The young man continued to look astonished, but had apparently decided not to resist Michelle's wish any longer.

  With a "Follow me, please, I'll do it" he led them past the reception area and the offices behind it to a wooden house similar to a garden shed where the rental bikes were stored. There he handed Michelle - after he had gained access - the bike she had chosen without looking at the alternatives. After asking her for her room number, he warned her once again to be careful and then wished her a good ride. Michelle thanked him well, knowing that her wish would normally not be processed at this time. Then she pedaled resolutely and quickly left the hotel building behind her.

  23.

  She felt the wind at her throat and ears. Her hair flew in the wind, the coat fluttered noisily behind her. She didn't know exactly where she was going, but somehow her worried feeling got her on the way, which she had taken a taxi from the restaurant in the other direction just an hour ago.

  It wasn't long before she arrived back at the forecourt of the restaurant where she had just had a conversation with Adolé and had had a terrible rebuff. The restaurant building was now in the dark of the night. Apparently the last guests and servants had left the restaurant. It was closed.

  Michelle looked around searching. Except for the few cars that were just parked in the parking lot and which were now on their way home with their owners after a nice evening, everything looked exactly the same as an hour ago. What was she doing here now? In the middle of the night? Except for the sound of the wind, which kept getting caught, sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker, in the grass of the field surrounding the inn and some vehicles in the distance, she heard no sounds at all.

  She pushed the bike a few meters further in the direction of the inn and kept looking around as if she was looking for something. But she did not know what it was herself. The gravel under her shoes crunched. For a while Michelle stood helpless in the night and didn't know what to do.

  Finally, she resignedly turned her bike, pushed it back to the driveway and slowly drove back onto the path that had led her here a moment ago. Again and again she looked around, looking right and left into the darkness of the bushes lying beside the road, but nothing suspicious caught her eye. At a leisurely pace she passed through the darkness of the night - a night that seemed like any other before and after.

  She drove for a while as if by remote control over the path that ran alongside the road. The movement did her good, so the dark thoughts could be kept in check better. She knew that Adolé had no reason to be favourable to her. She must be angry with her, the rejection she had received from Michelle was too obvious. If only she had another chance to explain it all. Her heart sank one floor below again.

  She kept driving through the dark without knowing where she was going. She let herself drift. The strange feeling that had crept up on her a while ago and that was still unexplainable to her still flowed through her and would not let her rest. She couldn't bear the thought of lying idle in her hotel room.

  Again and again she stopped short and looked around without knowing what she was actually looking for and what she hoped to find.

  Meanwhile she was on the cycle path next to the busy main road that cut the island from north to south, driving her further and further away from her hotel. Nevertheless, she kept on going in the same direction as a driven woman and never thought of returning to her hotel. She pedaled to get rid of this tension, but her insides remained agitated. So she accelerated for minutes and covered an immense distance. When she ran out of breath, she let the bike run out and headed for a bench that belonged to a bus stop on the side of the road, which was on a bend.

  Slowly she got down, leaned the bike against the bus stop house and let herself fall onto the bench, breathing heavily. In the windy chill of the night she realized how sweaty she was. No wonder, as she had certainly made a great effort and spent the last two kilometres. Her heart was pumping. To make up for the oxygen debt, she gasped for breath, and it was good to notice how her breathing and pulse slowly regulated again.

  She bent forward while resting her arms on her thighs. Her body recovered gradually. With a loud panting she lowered herself backwards against the backrest of the bench and looked around. Nobody was to be seen except her. It was too late when the bus was still running, taking tourists from A to B. So it was no wonder that no one was waiting for a ride.

  So Michelle sat motionless on the bench for a while, looked up at the few stars the cloudy night sky revealed and heard only the wind and her increasingly calm breath. Just as she was about to get up, only to give in to her fate and drive back to the hotel, she heard something rustling in the bushes. Or had she just imagined the sound? She paused and listened for a moment in the direction of the supposed sound.

  At first - nothing. Only absolute silence, even the wind was silent for a moment. But suddenly! There! There it was again. Something was moving in the darkness beside the road and beyond the cycle path, not far from it. What could it be? An animal? A mouse, surely, which thought itself safe under the cover of darkness, or a bird.

  Unsure of herself, Michelle took a few hesitant steps towards the spot in question, just to make sure she was not imagining all this. Her nerves were bare today - but hopefully not so bare. As she approached the position, she suddenly heard a soft moaning sound. She stopped like rooted to the spot! Was that really a moan? She thought her imagination was playing a trick on her. This could no longer be an animal.

  She pondered back and forth, finally pulled the mobile phone out of her trouser pocket and switched on the flashlight. In addition, she fished with her other hand for a broken branch that happened to be on the side of the road. After all, she was completely alone. Armed with so much brightness in one hand and the piece of branch in the other, Michelle felt reasonably safe and now she went step by step towards the source of the sounds.

  While she carefully groped her way forward, she shone her cell phone light in all directions and held the branch up high for safety's sake. There! There it was again! A moaning, now to be heard very clearly. Michelle immediately held the light higher in the hope of finding something. Carefully she illuminated every corner next to the cycle path when suddenly something moved.

  She flinched in panic. I thought she had too much confidence in herself. What if this was all a trap and that was supposed to rob innocen
t tourists of their belongings? But nobody rushed at her. So after a while she summoned all her courage and slowly worked her way forward.

  While Michelle felt her heart beating up to her neck, she suddenly froze when she heard the lute for the third time. She shone the spot with her floodlight and was startled as her eyes began to see more and more of what lay before her in the bushes. In the undergrowth of the ditch she recognized more and more a coat that looked familiar to her, then a scarf that she had just seen. Suddenly she understood the full extent of the situation: the source of the sound was Adolé, who was covered in blood there, more powerless than alive, lying before her in the ditch, struggling to be found.

  Michelle rushed at Adolé. Through the dense, thorny weave of bushes at the side of the road she could hardly make her way to the injured woman. Again and again she held an arm in front of her face to protect it from the thorns of the branches, got stuck here, stumbled over roots and stones there, which she could hardly see in the darkness.

  When she finally reached Adolé, she began to shake her and talk to her. "Adolé, it's me. It's Michelle. Stay with me!". Michelle kept trying to speak to Adolé, but in vain. She seemed to be unconscious, which was no wonder if she had in fact - as it seemed - gone off the cycle path at full speed and then fallen into the depths of this ditch. The undergrowth had also left its mark on her face and clothing - Adolé's face was covered with scratches, her coat torn several times.

  "Don't worry. Now I've found you. It's gonna be okay. I'll call an ambulance. "Take it easy... With trembling fingers, Michelle dialed 911 while she continued to try to calm Adolé, who was lying half unconscious next to her, and talk to her. She had placed a protective hand on her shoulder.

  "Oh my God, oh my God," Michelle kept repeating. She shook her head in bewilderment. "How could this have happened? If only I had spoken to you sooner." Michelle could hardly hold back the tears, did not let go of Adolé. Again and again she stroked her head and arm carefully, hoping that Adolé would feel it and that she would not cause her any more pain than her injuries already caused.

  "Please forgive me. Please forgive me." Michelle's voice kept breaking off. "This is all my fault, oh my God. Why didn't I talk to you before? "I wanted to explain everything. "Oh, no. Oh, my God. I miss you so much. "she squeezed out with the greatest of difficulty, sobbing as she stroked Adolé's shoulder and head again and again.

  It took endlessly long minutes before Michelle could see the blue light of an ambulance in the distance.

  24.

  Adolé felt a stabbing pain in her chest. She tried to open her eyes, but the eyelids were too heavy - as if magnetically attracted, they kept falling shut. She struggled against it, wanted to move, but simply didn't have the strength. She was sick - and so cold.

  A restless sleep took possession of her.

  A little later she woke up again halfway. She had lost all sense of time. When she finally managed to open her eyes for a short time, she at least realized that she was in a hospital. All around her were devices that monitored her vital signs and kept beeping softly to herself. At her side was a tube that ran in her arm. By her bed sat Roswitha, who had closed her eyes and was dozing. She held her hand. Something bad must have happened.

  But what exactly, she couldn't remember. Where was she last? And when? Yesterday? Last week? When she tried to move again, that stabbing pain ran through her again. She moaned and resigned herself to falling back into the pillows. At least Roswitha noticed that she was awake.

  "Dear! Heaven! There you are again. Thank God you're back." She looked at Adolé with loving eyes, stroking and pressing her hand, which she held firmly in hers, as if to confirm. "What happened?" Adolé tried to ask, but only a cawing sound came from her dry throat. She was thirsty...

  "Sure you want to know what happened? ", Roswitha interpreted her sounds correctly. "Darling, you had an accident on your bike the other night. Remember when you had dinner with the musicians at the restaurant three days ago? Adolé didn't remember, feverishly thinking. Roswitha went on for a while. "You wanted to ride your bike home at night in the dark. It was windy and cold, and you must have gone off the cycle path at that blind bend. You ended up in a ditch, and it was only by chance that you were found there in time. Anything else could have happened!!"

  Adolé remembered again that Roswitha sometimes had a penchant for drama. At least that was something she could remember again, but not the situation Roswitha had just described to her and which had apparently led her here. Restaurant, bicycle, way home. All Bohemian villages for her. When she took a breath to ask what was wrong with her, Roswitha, with her index finger in front of her pursed lips, told her to save her strength and began to talk about herself.

  "You wonder what your injuries are. Yes, of course. I would, too. So... you've had good luck in your misfortune, that first of all. Who knows what could have happened! Adolé, at least, was doing so well again, even though she could hardly move and had not yet found her voice again, that she was able to react to Roswitha's drastically embellished report by rolling her eyes.

  "Yeah, all right. " commented Roswitha knowingly her look. "So. You had quite a severe fall, it seems, upside down over the handlebars. That's why you have a concussion. Your left arm is broken, probably because you tried to cushion the fall. Your left ankle is sprained, and of course you have abrasions from the thorny bushes by the side of the road and bruises all over. So all in all, nothing that won't heal. But first you gave me quite a scare! "Roswitha was obviously seriously worried.

  "You got a headache now. It's gonna take some time. A concussion like this is not to be trifled with. You should take all the time you need and get well soon. You're tied to the bed here anyway. Therefore I have already cancelled all appointments for the next three weeks and issued a press release. It was only a few dates on talk shows anyway. Nothing you can't catch up on at some point.

  So don't worry, little one, you just get your strength back and get well. The next few days will cost you a lot of energy and nerves, but hopefully and especially thanks to the doctors and nurses here at the Insel Hospital things will start to improve again.

  Adolé closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That was great news! If only she could remember any of it...

  25.

  Slowly but surely the fog of forgetfulness that had spread through Adolé's skull began to lift. The memory came back ever more clearly. After the last three days, which she had consciously experienced in the hospital, although she still needed a lot of sleep, she at least knew again how the evening in the restaurant had gone. And she remembered again that in the end she had told Michelle what she thought and then she got on her bike in a rage and ran off.

  Because she was so angry and disappointed, she had driven faster than usual. But she had dared to, because she knew the track well, it was dry and not very busy. How it had finally happened that she had underestimated the cycle path and ended up in a ditch remained a mystery to her.

  Adolé had let herself be put a little more upright in bed, so she could at least look out of the window a little and distract herself. The weather was beautiful in autumn. That was a ray of hope in this gloomy time. She was still in pain, but at least she was able to drink some liquid on her own again. Unfortunately it was still too early for coffee, but she missed it. She was already looking forward to getting more exercise again and getting her first delicious café latte in the cafeteria downstairs. In the meantime, she was content to rack her brains over what had happened that night. She was still not one step further in how the accident could have happened.

  It also remained unclear under what circumstances she had been admitted to hospital. How fortunate that someone, of all people, had to take the same route as her at this very night time and then looked so attentively and noticed her injured at the side of the road. She would probably still be lying there now, if her rescuer had not been so attentive. Unfortunately, Roswitha couldn't tell her anything about this hero, but she had to find out as
soon as she could who this someone was who had gone to all this trouble - if only to say thank you.

  In between, she sometimes felt as if fragmentary moments, which somehow seemed familiar to her, were wafting far back in the swamp of memories of that evening, and then flickered briefly like spots of light, but then went out again too quickly for her to grab or hold them. As much as she tried hard, the exact course of this evening, after she got on her bike and set off home, remained impenetrable for her.

  Still, the first thing she consciously remembered after the accident was waking up here in the hospital room, Roswitha holding her hand and explaining how it happened that she was lying here in the hospital. Everything in between was too blurred for her to draw any precise conclusions.

  At least she got visitors from time to time so that she could talk a little. That felt good. But Roswitha took great care not to overexert herself. So she could use the time, switch off a little from everyday life and relax. From Roswitha she had learned to always see something positive in everything.