wiped her eyes.
“They're going to move me out of here,” Maestro said.
She blinked in surprise, and hope flared like a supernova in her chest. Perhaps he wasn't too far gone for them to start chemotherapy or radiation treatments to give him a fighting chance. “Oh, wow, I'm so glad to hear...” She trailed off, remembering Matt's face as he'd left his dad's room. The flare of hope fizzled like a dying match flame.
Maestro had been watching her, and he slowly turned his hand over to grasp hers. “It's not good news, dear. This morning, the doctor told me it's...” He paused. “Complete liver failure. He said I could have another dialysis treatment, but because my liver is no longer working, it would only postpone the inevitable. And it's too late for any other kinds of treatments.”
Annasophia gripped the sides of Maestro's bed. “You mean there's not a thing in the world anybody can do?”
Shaking his head, he put his other hand over hers.
“How long do you have?”
“Maybe a few days.”
And probably not even that , she thought. He was shutting down. She saw it in his eyes, where their light was slowly fading, and she felt it in the texture of his skin. Even his skin felt tired and worn out by illness, not quite like skin anymore. She had cried nearly all last night, so she'd thought she was out of tears and sobs; yet she had to breathe deeply to keep from breaking down. No, she wouldn't break down. She'd be his anchor through this. She and Matt would both be his anchors. Their strength would be their gift of love to him. But oh, a life without Maestro – she couldn't even imagine it. For twenty years, he'd been the deepest part of her inspiration. For twenty years, he'd been her best friend. For twenty years, they had shared a bond of an affection that truly went beyond family or friendship.
Sure, she had known this day would come at some point, but why did it have to be now?
No. She'd think about Maestro, not herself. That was how she'd get through this. Be there for him, as long as he was here to be here for. She had the rest of her life to worry about herself.
The picture from the mysterious email flashed into her mind. Young, ruggedly handsome Maestro in tie and tails, after a concert performance, with a woman who looked exactly like her in his arms. A woman glowing with love. But it couldn't be true. Time travel wasn't possible. Wouldn't she be a fool, though, not to show the picture to Maestro? If there was a chance, no matter how small, to be with Maestro again, even if it were a completely different way from how she'd always known him... maybe especially if it were a completely different dynamic. She'd never been in love, at least not in the regular sense, but Maestro had been her soulmate ever since she could remember.
With shaking hands, she put her purse on the tray near Maestro's bed. She pulled out the picture, seized by the crazy thought that somehow it might have changed, that when she looked at it, she'd see Maestro with a completely different woman in his arms. Somebody blonde, perhaps. Taller, curvier. Annasophia could almost see the woman's face in her mind, almost as if she had seen her before. Temporary insanity, because of her grief? But no. When she unfolded the picture, there she was, Annasophia or a woman who looked just like her, cuddled in the circle of Maestro's arms. Maestro, at the height of his fame and power as an artist.
Oh, that look on her face! Love radiating brighter than the flashbulb on the long-ago camera, back when cameras used flashes and film. Love radiating from Maestro's hale and handsome face, too. She couldn't help herself. She smiled and felt another tear rolling down her cheek. Another chance to be together. A chance for a different kind of relationship. The prospect should feel strange, but it didn't.
Instead, it made her tingle all over.
“What's that?” Maestro asked.
Surely she was imagining things, but she thought his voice had been tinged