But what exactly, she couldn't remember. Where was she last? And when? Yesterday? Last week? When she tried to move again, that stabbing pain ran through her again. She moaned and resigned herself to falling back into the pillows. At least Roswitha noticed that she was awake.
"Dear! Heaven! There you are again. Thank God you're back." She looked at Adolé with loving eyes, stroking and pressing her hand, which she held firmly in hers, as if to confirm. "What happened?" Adolé tried to ask, but only a cawing sound came from her dry throat. She was thirsty...
"Sure you want to know what happened? ", Roswitha interpreted her sounds correctly. "Darling, you had an accident on your bike the other night. Remember when you had dinner with the musicians at the restaurant three days ago? Adolé didn't remember, feverishly thinking. Roswitha went on for a while. "You wanted to ride your bike home at night in the dark. It was windy and cold, and you must have gone off the cycle path at that blind bend. You ended up in a ditch, and it was only by chance that you were found there in time. Anything else could have happened!!"
Adolé remembered again that Roswitha sometimes had a penchant for drama. At least that was something she could remember again, but not the situation Roswitha had just described to her and which had apparently led her here. Restaurant, bicycle, way home. All Bohemian villages for her. When she took a breath to ask what was wrong with her, Roswitha, with her index finger in front of her pursed lips, told her to save her strength and began to talk about herself.
"You wonder what your injuries are. Yes, of course. I would, too. So... you've had good luck in your misfortune, that first of all. Who knows what could have happened! Adolé, at least, was doing so well again, even though she could hardly move and had not yet found her voice again, that she was able to react to Roswitha's drastically embellished report by rolling her eyes.
"Yeah, all right. " commented Roswitha knowingly her look. "So. You had quite a severe fall, it seems, upside down over the handlebars. That's why you have a concussion. Your left arm is broken, probably because you tried to cushion the fall. Your left ankle is sprained, and of course you have abrasions from the thorny bushes by the side of the road and bruises all over. So all in all, nothing that won't heal. But first you gave me quite a scare! "Roswitha was obviously seriously worried.
"You got a headache now. It's gonna take some time. A concussion like this is not to be trifled with. You should take all the time you need and get well soon. You're tied to the bed here anyway. Therefore I have already cancelled all appointments for the next three weeks and issued a press release. It was only a few dates on talk shows anyway. Nothing you can't catch up on at some point.
So don't worry, little one, you just get your strength back and get well. The next few days will cost you a lot of energy and nerves, but hopefully and especially thanks to the doctors and nurses here at the Insel Hospital things will start to improve again.
Adolé closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That was great news! If only she could remember any of it...
25.
Slowly but surely the fog of forgetfulness that had spread through Adolé's skull began to lift. The memory came back ever more clearly. After the last three days, which she had consciously experienced in the hospital, although she still needed a lot of sleep, she at least knew again how the evening in the restaurant had gone. And she remembered again that in the end she had told Michelle what she thought and then she got on her bike in a rage and ran off.
Because she was so angry and disappointed, she had driven faster than usual. But she had dared to, because she knew the track well, it was dry and not very busy. How it had finally happened that she had underestimated the cycle path and ended up in a ditch remained a mystery to her.
Adolé had let herself be put a little more upright in bed, so she could at least look out of the window a little and distract herself. The weather was beautiful in autumn. That was a ray of hope in this gloomy time. She was still in pain, but at least she was able to drink some liquid on her own again. Unfortunately it was still too early for coffee, but she missed it. She was already looking forward to getting more exercise again and getting her first delicious café latte in the cafeteria downstairs. In the meantime, she was content to rack her brains over what had happened that night. She was still not one step further in how the accident could have happened.
It also remained unclear under what circumstances she had been admitted to hospital. How fortunate that someone, of all people, had to take the same route as her at this very night time and then looked so attentively and noticed her injured at the side of the road. She would probably still be lying there now, if her rescuer had not been so attentive. Unfortunately, Roswitha couldn't tell her anything about this hero, but she had to find out as
soon as she could who this someone was who had gone to all this trouble - if only to say thank you.
In between, she sometimes felt as if fragmentary moments, which somehow seemed familiar to her, were wafting far back in the swamp of memories of that evening, and then flickered briefly like spots of light, but then went out again too quickly for her to grab or hold them. As much as she tried hard, the exact course of this evening, after she got on her bike and set off home, remained impenetrable for her.
Still, the first thing she consciously remembered after the accident was waking up here in the hospital room, Roswitha holding her hand and explaining how it happened that she was lying here in the hospital. Everything in between was too blurred for her to draw any precise conclusions.
At least she got visitors from time to time so that she could talk a little. That felt good. But Roswitha took great care not to overexert herself. So she could use the time, switch off a little from everyday life and relax. From Roswitha she had learned to always see something positive in everything.
Meanwhile, her recovery progressed well, so it did not take long before she was allowed to leave the clinic with her left arm still wrapped in a protective plaster cast and a plaster plaster on her head. Although her foot was still a little sore, she was happy to be able to leave the hospital. At home she felt much better immediately, in her own house with the wonderful view of the lake and in her familiar surroundings.
Roswitha had been kind enough to drive them. After taking Adolé's small clinic suitcase up to the bedroom, she offered to help, but Adolé declined with thanks. She was looking forward to finally being alone again and finding the opportunity to think about everything in peace. The bonus was this unique view, which she had exclusively for herself from her terrace.
"You can't even move properly with one arm in a cast. Shouldn't I stay and help you?
"You've done enough for me already. This whole stay here on the island wasn't planned. "I've already messed up your appointments. Just give me a few days of peace and quiet before my life gets back to normal. Go, take care of your other protégés. I'll be fine." Adolé knew, as always, she had to be convincing, otherwise Roswitha would not let up.
But she just didn't feel like company, as a grown woman she needed her independence and was looking forward to the next few days when she could finally be on her own again - without nurses, without doctors and without a manager. She would manage that.
So Roswitha finally gave up after another request and was content with her role as a worried agent from afar. In the afternoon she finally said goodbye and drove back to Hamburg, where she continued her business. Adolé was glad when the car disappeared behind the hill and the door behind her fell into the lock. Finally silence!
26.
She enjoyed the time all to herself. That was very special. Usually she was always surrounded by someone - mostly musicians, her band, her dancers, lyricists, composers, sometimes even bodyguards, audience, fans or anyone else who wanted something from her. When she wasn't in the studio, she was on a promotion tour for a new album, a new tour or any other project that needed to be made known. There were always directors, cameramen, journalists or just people around her, always she had to bow to their wishes and expectations.
The smallest form of freedom was Roswitha. She was already satisfied if it was only Roswitha who swarmed around her, she had known her for years and trusted her. She knew that she had only her best in mind, and yet she was happy when she too left her alone and she could simply be for herself. This was a happiness she hardly knew and which was hardly compatible with her normal everyday life, because there was always something up, something to be discussed, decided or planned.
This time of convalescence was all the more beautiful, even if her arm, which had been decontaminated in the meantime, showed signs of decontamination every now and then, which seemed to heal well, but occasionally capriciously allowed itself to produce pain.
But she was okay with it. If only that was all.
She had gotten up early that morning and was just about to make herself a coffee when she heard her mobile phone beeping again from a distance.