I started 2013 changing my habits and my daily routine. Every day of my week had a purpose now, and everything was organised so I could have enough time to study, to practice, and to write my new string quartet music. I even considered having more hours of sleep on my schedule. I became extra cautious, but that barely reduced my new deaths by a small percentage, because I kept having those flashing faintings which were more like bewilderments than faintings now—always hand in hand with that weird, distorted and muffled melody. Also, I stopped receiving money from my dad, because I was already earning a decent amount of money each month by teaching music to my neighbours' children—enough to survive and to save up a little bit of it. Either way, my dad insisted and bought me a new piano, an RD-700NX.

But the problems began in the first month of 2013.

The area of specialisation of my music degree was in piano because musical composition—which was the one I wanted—had been shut down for generations by then, because of the lack of demand. When I started taking classes, I felt upset because of that, but my 2013 version saw it as a possible opportunity for being transferred to another university—perhaps to the one where my 2014 version was, according to my visit to the future. The problem was that piano—as area of specialisation—was the most demanded, so the teachers were all the time busy with so many students like me who only needed their approval to schedule one single concert. Students played in those concerts so they would get graded and moved to higher levels with better teachers, and sometimes to other universities abroad… if everything went well, of course.

My teacher Viktoriya—who was an almost 90-year-old lady born in Russia—thought I was ready for my concert all the way back since November when she accepted me as her student. I chose her because she was so influential that even one of the main buildings got named after her. So, I spent most of my Christmas holidays in front of the piano just to show her I felt ready too; that way she would’ve given me the date of my concert as soon as the year started... but something happened.

The new year came and it was the first week of classes. I arrived early, shaking, and cracking the bones of my hands waiting for her to show up. I had practised the entire holidays and I was more than ready. But, minutes passed, my anxiety vanished entirely, and forty-five minutes later another teacher found me there waiting and told me that Viktoriya had passed away during the previous weekend.

"She fell from the stairs," he said, truly sad.

"Oh, no! That's awful."

"I know, son. I know. If you want you can go home for today and wait for new instructions."

"Wait, no! I was ready to play for her. I wanted her to approve my concert this year."

"Oh, I see. Well, there's a teacher available, actually. Well, not completely available, but maybe because of your situation, she can give herself a moment to listen to you. I must tell you that she's extremely busy with so many students right now—our best pianists are always looking for her verdict, and she's very strict, you know? I'll inform her and she’ll contact you when she has the time. You should practice, even more, understood?"

It took that teacher two full months and a half to give herself a moment for me, but the waiting was worth it because by then I already knew my pieces by heart, and I was playing them in their original tempo with a lot of confidence. I showed up the day they told me to, in the classroom they showed me the way to, and another Russian teacher was already there. Ilyinichna, who was only ten years older than me, and she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever met. She was something else and so much more. Her cute face, her big brown eyes, and her fucking accent. Her gorgeous figure. Dear Satan, her skills on the piano.

"Sit down, please. You are the former Viktoriya's, right?" she asked from her seat on the other side of the room, looking at her phone.

"Uh, yes. Nice meeting you, Miss Il, Ily, I l y i..."

"Ily's fine," she interrupted me, laughing. "Are you ready?"

She stood up and walked to stand in front of the piano, where she noticed my face of amusement.

"I'm not pretty when teaching," she said while sitting next to the piano. "What you play?"

"Oh! Oh... Uh, these. You can keep them, I know them by heart now," I said, completely blushed.

"Me too. Please, when you feel ready."

"Right... but... I have to say th-that I'm a little bit nervous now."

"Play. Don't flirt."

I sat in front of the piano with my face redder than ever and abruptly started with the Solfeggietto in C minor by Emanuel Bach, which is a short, not difficult composition I enjoyed playing because I used it also as a warm-up for the next pieces in my repertoire. The Solfeggietto is very short indeed, so I always included one Da capo al fine—which basically means I played it twice. During my second round, she stood up and walked from left to right over and over again, sometimes getting so close to my hands that I almost hit her face.

"Stop," she said before I could finish.

"Should I start with..."

"No. I lied. Sometimes I'm pretty when teaching. You are good but weird."

"I'm weird?"

"Your body, yes, it's weird," she continued, frowning, and with her eyes scanning me.

"Oh, so..."

"Play again."

"Right."

"Stop! You are good," she said and grabbed me by my shoulders. "I can't give you the date for your concert."

"I'm sorry, did you just say can or can't?"

"Cannot. First, we need to change something. Several somethings. It will be difficult, but you will be better."

"I'm in."

"You are tense," she said while changing the position of her hands. She kept the tip of only two of her fingers on each of my shoulders, then she added pressure. I felt a rush of warm, almost hot liquid flow from the area she put pressure on—I moaned in a mix of pleasure and pain, and I couldn't play well for two weeks because my arms felt weak and my shoulders hurt.

By June, after some sessions with Ily, she decided that I was finally ready for my concert, so she gave her approval and signed a letter that I had to make the principal sign as well, but the problem was that she was never around—there was a queue at her office, an enormous book for students to left messages. When I signed, my appointment with her got scheduled for September.

When they told me that the principal was never around because she was also the director of the orchestra from another university, I thought that everything started to make sense. My concert and my acceptance into a new school would’ve happened soon, and by February my friends and I would’ve been moving together—I would’ve had my own presentation, and I would’ve been dating a ballerina.

On September, the principal signed my letter and my concert was officially scheduled for October the 31st.

"Ily says you're good."

"Thank you. I don't know, but what I really like is composing."

"Oh, well, well, well... glad to hear that, because I'm planning some things here and there but... nevermind, we don't want to jinx anything. Meanwhile, good luck with your concert. Don't forget to get your document stamped by Herrmann as soon as possible. Hey! If everything goes perfectly, maybe I can share with you what I've been planning."

***

"Good morning, Herrmann. I'm fine, thank you. I saw the principal yesterday, she said you have to stamp this. Yes. Yes, for the 31st. No. Yes, by Ily... Yes, I'll wait... Uh-uh? What do you mean by ‘an error’? Oh, the format? Well, I don't know, that's the document both Ily and the principal signed. What do you mean I'm still enrolled with Viktoriya?! She passed away months ago! Yes, sorry, thoughts and prayers. Oh, I didn't know I was her only student... So, what do we have to do? Well, Ily listened to me, can you enrol me with her? Full? Well how about enrolling me with someone else temporarily, I only need to play on the 31st, after that, you can enrol me again with someone else. What do you mean there's no one else?! Fine, I'll talk to the principal again, when is she coming back? On the 20th? Hmm, yeah. Fine. Thank you, Herrmann... Yes, thank you... OF NOVEMBER!?"

"And what about my date?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the desk and asking myself if this was meant to happen.

"Well, you're not playing on the 31st, that's for sure... and there are just a few days available on December... but you have to wait on the queue again..."

"So?"

"I think mid-January."

"... Fine. Fine. Yes. I think it makes sense."

"Just be patient and keep practising. Maybe you can have an even better repertoire by then."

"What about the thing with the enrolments?"

"Let me tell you the truth... We... We've had problems with the administration here, and problems like these that shouldn't affect students or anyone else are costing us now a lot of money in fines. I'll enrol you with someone as soon as I see an available option, but please, make that teacher approve your concert under her/his name."