Sydney's Song (39 page)

“Disaster. Big one. Join us at Dr Rushworth's?”

He was pacing the room, his expression devastated, when I rushed in. I went to him and he took my hands in a tight grip.

“I swear to you I didn't know about this when I wanted us to get married quickly,” he pleaded fearfully. Talking fast. Not his calm self at all. “Honestly, I didn't mean to trap you.”

I looked at his tormented eyes. His usually unruffled demeanour had taken leave. Calm down, I told myself, you were useless panicked. I pulled him down next to me on the sofa and wrapped my arms around his waist.

“The right brain controls our creative aptitude,” old Dr Rushworth explained in his deep baritone. “We've found Pete's can't cope with new music. It seems he retains his previous music skills and large repertoire. But the injury has altered his brain function. He can't learn the latest elaborate works of new composers. Not easily. That means he won't be able to play in a symphony orchestra except for his earlier music.

“Unfortunately because of his right-arm pain, so far he can only play very short violin pieces. Will they hire him if he can only play—at maximum—ten minutes in an hour? And we don't know yet how significantly or when this right arm will heal. Or whether it will ever heal.

“Furthermore, the right-brain injury plays havoc with Pete's left hand motor skills. This is because the right brain controls the functions on our left. This condition will make it extremely difficult for him to train his left hand to play the violin.

“I have to send the full report of these findings to the job Pete is applying for in Australia.” He gestured to the sheaf of papers strewn on the table in front of him and announced coldly, “For the time being, any chance of him playing in an orchestra again is cut short.”

Oh no… What my love must be feeling! Classics and violin had been his lifelong passion.

“Let me see,” my arms tightened around him. “Pete has difficulties with motor skills on both hands. The right one due to his right-arm injury. The left one due to the right-brain injury. He's very fortunate to keep his previous music repertoire, but can't really learn the elaborate works of new composers?”

“Yes. That's right.”

“Can he do some other job? Like, teaching classics?”

“Of course he can. But don't aim for higher college or schools. His occupational therapist says kids will take advantage of his forgetfulness. If you can help him to organize private tuition for children who are serious in wanting to learn the classics, Pete will certainly manage. That way, he won't be taxing his arm too much.”

My beloved was very quiet and pensive when we left the hospital.My heart reached out to him, knowing what he had lost, knowing how great a musician he could have been. What a waste of a brilliant talent. If he had been able to work in his previous field, he would be making a lot of money. He would have professional satisfaction and worldwide recognition. And he would not have to go through so much agony.

Sorrow filled my soul. I wished I could take away his pain but knew I couldn't. And tomorrow—tomorrow, if he forgot, I would have to remind him the details of Dr Rushworth's explanation, reliving the pain again.

“Pete, I feel for you. I'm sorry. So sorry this happened to you.” We walked with our gloved fingers laced together, boots crunching and sloshing through last night's fall of thin snow. I stopped, stood on my tiptoe to kiss his dear cheek, and walked again. “How do you feel, love?”

“I feel bad because you've married a broken man,” he managed in a very low voice.

“Whaat? Aren't you supposed to feel bad because your career as a great violinist is in jeopardy?”

“I won't miss it that much ‘cause I can still play the violin ten minutes each time.” He squeezed my hand tighter. “You see, I can still play parts of the elaborate movements. A sequence each time. Or play short pieces. Violin fills me with joy. Problem is, playing for myself won't bring in money. This is an absolute disaster.”

I nodded in sympathy.

“Sydney,” he talked haltingly, wariness marring his voice. “I love you
so
much I'll understand if you want out. But I really don't want you to. I'm so in love with you I'm selfish enough to want us together for always.”

“Of course we will be. Why would I want out?”

“Because I won't be a great musician.”

“That's not why I married you.” The thought that he was afraid I would leave crushed me. I felt deeply for him. Well, I was not his Mom and I was not his ex! He did not have to be a great star to be worthy of my affection. “Darling, I didn't even know you were a musician, remember? We used to take calls together.”

“That's another thing. I may have to end up with a low-paying job, if I can even hold a job. So honey, I won't make much money,” he reasoned in distress. He was deeply troubled for losing all that he used to have, all that he used to be. “Are you sure you'll still be happy with me?”

“Of course. We'll manage. If you can't work yet, then I will.There's always a job in Australia as long as we aren't lazy. At the very worst, I can do gardening or patient massage. Also, do you remember the share certificates that Mum and Ettoré have given us for our wedding present? Would you like to consult them about the best way to invest your property money?”

“Sure. But honey, for myself, I'm not fussy. After my travels, I see little point in amassing wealth, except to share it with those in need.When the doctor told me, my only concern was you. I wanted you to be comfortable. I was terrified you'd blame me for marrying you before I could even stand on my own feet. Don't you mind what I am now?”

“‘Course not. I myself have many shortcomings—some I don't even realise. Pete, you don't mean to suggest that because you suffer from brain damage you're then unworthy of love, do you?”

He was silent.

“Wrong, Pete. Your injury is heart wrenching. But you're still the same fine man I fell in love with. You have a high degree of sensitivity and compassion. You have a strong drive to do good.You're unwilling to hurt anyone. You're unique. You shine and stand out from the crowd. And anyway, although forgetful, you're still brilliant. Your analytical mind is sharp and you're very witty.”

”Wow. Thank you. You're not saying that just because we're newly married—loved-up pair and all that—are you?”

The insecurities in his voice stopped me in my tracks. I held his gaze and told him resolutely, “You forget, darling, so I'll have to remind you. To me, being with you has always been better than being without you. I was there Pete, all the time when your condition was so bad and so uncertain. It was a whole lot worse than today. I was there, Pete, when you didn't even know how to smile. Or how to brush your teeth. And had to have a catheter.

“They thought you'd be a vegetable, Pete, and for a while there you really were.

“I did cry praying for you, but never once was I dispirited because I wasn't loved. Never once did I feel all alone in the big wide world.Never once did I have any suicidal thoughts. You know I went through all that after my parents' divorce. But simply being near you gave me courage and strength.

“Now you're heaps better, thank God!

“Yes I was there Pete, the first time you smiled again. D'you know how much that first smile meant to me? You can't imagine my happiness! I was positively euphoric. Waiting was the hardest thing to do, Pete… but you're worth it.

“I love you. I'll love you until I die.

“So yeah, you're stuck with me ‘cause I'm never, never going away from you! I'm in love with you and I
need
you. And I love you
so much
that I need to know you're okay every minute of the day.

“Looks like our life will be an interesting long journey. But we'll be together each step of the way, right? I
need
you. Please trust me, darling… I'm not whole without you.”

“Honey… don't cry,” he reached for me and wrapped me to his chest.

“I'm not crying,” I swiped angrily at my stupid tears. “I'm a strong woman! I'm brave and I'll face whatever comes next. Alone, I'd be broken but I'd manage alright ‘cause God would help me. But I wanna be with you!”

“I know, I know. Sweetheart, I'm sorry I made you cry.” He helped dab my eyes and looked at me with a tentative smile. “I believe you.I've always sensed this goodness in you. You're the best of the blessings God has given me, Sydney. But the problems needed to be aired and dissected ‘cause they could become big issues, okay? We need to verbalize all of the hurdles to clearly understand each other.To ensure no regrets. And it seems we have no problems.” His smile became more relaxed. “Not between us at any rate.”

“True,” I was able to smile back now. “We do have real problems concerning the practicalities. But we'll solve them. During the last year I've learnt more about the real me, Pete. The person I am inside.I've found I'm not a person who lives lightly or superficially. I enjoy living at full capacity. Passionately. Intensely. And I'm not averse to challenge or struggle. So yes, Pete, we'll work out whatever may come.”

“I don't have much, darling, but I give you my all.” He kissed my nose, looking happier. “So we're a team?”

“A team?” I smiled into his clear, gorgeous eyes and stepped back.We had been stopping near the sculpture of Make Way For Ducklings, with thin snow all around. “Not right now, darling, ‘cause right now we're going to be enemies.” I scooped up some snow and threw it at him. “There! Take life seriously, husband!”

“Not fair!” he protested, dodging my missile. But he bent down and scooped up some snow, ready to retaliate. “I only have one good arm!”

So we arrived home laughing after the snow fight, both of us very wet and very cold. Fine reasons to share a nice hot shower, right?

In Sydney, ten years later

“Aaarck!” the baby cries.

I nudge sleepily at Pete, “It's your turn, darling.”

“Funny,” he mumbles. “It feels like your turn, wifey.”

“Honestly, it's yours.”

“How do I know you aren't taking advantage of my forgetfulness?”

“Well you can't. Just take my word for it.”

“Aaarck!” the baby calls imperiously.

“She needs cleaning,” I tickle him. “I can tell by the way she calls.”

“Ecstatic,” he grumbles as he disentangles our limbs, “How fortunate for me…” Walking to the baby's room he throws a dangerous smile over his shoulder, “Just wait for my compensation.”

Since my graduation, we have become foster carers for displaced babies. These are transient babies. They come and go, arriving from abusive homes—often in the middle of the night—to go to hopefully loving ones. We are their refuge until the government finds them permanent new homes, which can take from a few days to several weeks.

We used to travel the world during uni holidays. Once we volunteered in a disaster relief program, where Aussies are famous for being very helpful. Next, purely for fun, we became volunteer-mentors with Children International Summer Vacation, which is great for character building and world peace. Another time, we played tourists just because, climbing the Alps with Pete's Dutch friend Ietje.

Seeing my enthusiasm, Pete wanted to postpone kids until I hit 30.

“I don't want you to feel that your wings have been clipped early‘cause we can't travel easily with very young kids. But since you've finished your studies, how about we care for others' babies before having our own? That way we can help others, and still have a few months every year just for each other—the two of us travelling and doing fun stuff.”

“You're so good, Pete. You don't just dream and talk.” I remembered him saying that to glorify God means to have a good relationship with all of His creations. “You actively take actions whenever possible, doing something
real
for the less fortunate.”