Page 106 of Rock Me

He stops in his tracks for a moment, and then walks past it and into the bedroom, as if it's the most normal thing to happen in the world. Having a cello appear out of nowhere.

I give him a few minutes and then follow him into the bedroom.

He's sitting on the bed, shoes kicked off, flicking through the channels on the TV.

He doesn’t say anything, even as I slide onto the bed next to him and tickle his stomach.

Barely a smile.

"Hey. So, um, I don't know if you noticed but, um, someone must've planted a cello seed in the middle of our foyer during the night and... well, it's sprouted."

He just keeps flicking through the channels, barely giving each one more than half a second before he's flicked to the next one.

"I wonder who sent it."

He just shrugs.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you want to..."

"Nope.” Click. Click. Click.

"Okay. I mean, maybe just take it out of the case and look at it?"

"Nope."

"Okay. Just a suggestion." I go into the bathroom for a few minutes, just sitting on the stool in front of the dressing table.

"Fucking Dennis," I hear him mumble after about five minutes.

I walk out and stand by the bed. “What did you say?”

"The cello. I know it's from him. He's trying to force me into playing again." He throws the remote onto the bed and glares at the wall.

"Maybe he's just trying to encourage you. How does he even know you're here?"

"Oh, he knows. He knows everything. He probably knows what we're going to have for breakfast tomorrow morning."

"Oh really. Could he tell me? I have such a hard time deciding between the crois-..."

“Bah!” He grunts and reaches over and picks up the phone.

"What are you doing?"

He shakes the phone in front of him, "I'm calling him to yell at him."

"Jez, is that really necessary?"

"Yes! He said it himself, he should give me some time to recover! Why is he pushing this? I've only just left the hospital. Give a man some time!"

I watch as he punches a number angrily into this phone. Shit.

"Wait," I say, putting my hand on his arm.

"Not now, Emmie. I just need a minute.”

"Put down the phone, Jez."

"Why?"

I grimace. "Because. Ugh. It wasn't Dennis. It was... it was me. I called the concierge and asked them to organize a cello rental. They must’ve brought it up while we were out."

"What? WHY?" He’s angry. He was angry before, but now it’s directed at me. And I guess he has a right. But that doesn’t mean I’m not right as well.

"Because I want you to stop thinking you can't do it, Jez. Not until you've actually tried."

"Noémie. You... you had no right." He shakes his head, running his hand through his fringe.

"No right to what?"

"To do this! I'm not ready!"

"Oh, you mean no right like you had no right to force me onto the stage with Celine Dion and in front of thousands of people? Well, let me remind you, I sucked it up and did it anyway, because I knew you would never do something to hurt me, humiliated me. Well, it goes both ways, asshole." He huffs and throws the phone across the room. We watch it crash against the bureau and land onto the ground.

I shake my head at him. "I was wrong. You don’t underestimate people, Jez. You just underestimate yourself.” I get up and walk over to the window, watching his reflection in the window for a moment before I turn around, swallowing before I deliver the next line.

"Or maybe you don't underestimate yourself. Maybe you really are just done.”

There’s a pause and then he gets up and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him, leaving me watching Jimmy Kimmel lip syncing along to Tupac.