As I had known it would, my playing drove Helena insane. This gave me great pleasure. She asked me to practice at Lukas’s apartment, which I only did when she was not at home. I was horrible at something for the first time in my overcontrolled life and I reveled in it. I poured my grief, pain, and ugliness, my misformed eye into my playing. I lost myself in the clumsiness of my fingers, the awkwardness of my body, the peeping, cracking sounds that came from my cello. This was indeed my instrument and it voiced all the rage and frustration that I could not.
