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For Solo Cello, op. 12
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Mary Robinette Kowal Wordcount: 2250
http://www.maryrobinettekowal.com
For Solo Cello, op. 12
by Mary Robinette Kowal
Originally published in Cosmos, March 2007
Reprinted in Science Fiction: Best of the Year
His keys dropped, rattling on the parquet floor. Julius stared at them, unwilling to look at the bandaged stump where his left hand had been two weeks ago. He should be used to it by now. He should not still be trying to pass things from his right hand to his left.
But it still felt like his hand was there.
The shaking began again, a tremelo building in his hand and knees. Julius pressed his right hand--his only hand--against his mouth so he did not vomit on the floor. Reaching for calm, he imagined playing through Belparda's Étude No. 1. It foon bowing, on the right hand. Forget the left. When he was eight, Julius had learned it on a cello as big as he had been. The remembered bounce of the bow against the strings pulsed in his right hand.
Don't think about the fingering.
"Jules, are you all right?" Cheri's voice startled him. He hadn't heard the door open.
Lowering his hand, Julius opened his eyes. His wife stood silhouetted in the light from their apartment. Her hair hung in loose tendrils around her face, bleached almost colorless by the backlight.
He snatched his keys off the floor. "I'm fine." Julius leaned forward to kiss her before she could notice his shaking, but Cheri turned her head and put a hand to her mouth.
"No. Sorry. I-- I was just sick." A sheen of sweat coated her