“You know,” Elizabeth said, her gaze sweeping across David’s living room, “you really ought to do something with this room.”
“Do what?” David asked. “Have it condemned?”
“No,” she answered. “I’m sure something can be done to improve it, if you just use a little imagination.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have no visual imagination whatsoever. And I certainly have no clue as to how to improve this room. Any creativity I have is one-hundred percent confined to music.”
“No, really. I’m serious. The furniture…really.” She swept her arm in the direction of the dingy sofa on which David was sitting. “There isn’t much and it’s all terrible.”
David smiled. “All part of the rental agreement, I’m afraid.”
“How about putting something on the walls?”
“Can’t do it. We’re not allowed to put holes in the wall.”
“What?” Elizabeth gasped. “Your walls are nothing but holes! How on earth would a landlord even notice if you put another hole in these walls?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s counted the holes.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “You’re just not trying, you know. Everybody can improve their life.”
“I’m perfectly happy with my life. By the way, can I refill your glass?” David picked up the wine bottle sitting on the coffee table in between them.
“That would be lovely,” Elizabeth replied, smiling cheerfully. “By the way, how did the session with Dr. Benevenolli go yesterday?”
“Well, it went,” said David. “I mean…he’s not a real doctor you know. There’s only so much he can do.”
“Oh please,” said Elizabeth, rolling her eyes dramatically. “He’s a psychologist. He’s got a Ph.D. He’s a doctor.”
David grinned. “Just kidding. The meeting was okay. I explained that I’d seen a series of neurological specialists and they didn’t help a lot.”
“And did Dr. Benevenolli help a lot?”
“He tried. Some of it made me uncomfortable.”
“What part?”
“The obvious implication that the whole thing is more mental than physical. It’s not as if he didn’t admit my problems might be partly physical, but he clearly thought that there were some psychological problems going on. But of course he’s a psychologist. I assume you expected something like that when you suggested I go see him.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I didn’t know what to expect. I know that he’s helped some other musicians.”
“Work through some psychological blocks, you mean?”
“Work through whatever was getting in their way.”
“That’s what Dr. Benevenolli said too. He said I should stop sitting around waiting for a cure, and go out there and get back to playing full-time again.”
“Sounds like great advice to me.”
“He also said that I was sitting on the sidelines because I was afraid to compete with other pianists…like you.”
“Well that’s just silly,” Elizabeth protested. “I never would have said that.”
“It’s not true, of course. I have no fear of competing. I just don’t want to do it until I’m at my best.”
“I understand, but I think he may be right when he says you can’t sit around waiting for a miracle. I think you have to aggressively work at getting back into shape and then see what happens.”
“Maybe,” said David. “I’m still working it out.”
“It’s just that you haven’t seemed to be your usual irrepressible self. Anything else on your mind?”
“There are all these problems with Jeremy and his Beethoven manuscript.”
“Really? I thought things were going well with that. That Morgenstern guy—who seemed a little bit of a creep to me by the way you described him—sounds likes he’s got everything under control. He’s going to run those tests on the manuscript and it sounds like he’s more than capable of helping Jeremy find a buyer for it.”
David nodded. “Yeah, but those tests—two thousand bucks up front—I’m not sure how he managed it. Jeremy seldom has that much money in his possession at any one time.”
“But he’s just come back from his tour, right? I know it was just a modest one but…”
“The thing is, Jeremy has always been one to try to make a big impression. I know he didn’t make much money from his little tour and I also know that he probably spent most of it living an overly luxurious lifestyle.”
“Jeremy? An overly luxurious lifestyle? Oh please, I’ve seen his apartment. There’s nothing in the least luxurious about it. I think it might be worse than yours.”
“Let’s put it this way. When Jeremy gets a little money in his pocket, it quickly finds its way out. I’m sure that when he was in London, he stayed at the best hotels and ate at the best restaurants.”
“And then came back to Philadelphia to live in a hovel, right?”
“That’s the point. He lives well until he’s broke. Then he barely survives.”
“Are you sure he ever came up with the two thousand bucks for Morgenstern?”
“I’m sure he did. I’m just not sure where he got it.”
“Maybe Melissa helped him out.”
“Maybe, but I have a hard time imagining she’d have two thousand dollars just sitting around waiting for some charitable cause.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t think of Jeremy as a charitable cause. She’s living with him. She must care about him.”
“I guess, maybe,” David said, a slight frown crossing his face. “That’s a relationship I don’t even pretend to understand.”
Elizabeth’s face brightened. “And how about our relationship?”
David smiled. “It’s great. That doesn’t mean it can’t get any better, but I think it’s great.”