Overrated | The Voice France / MIKA & OC

5.4 - Live 2. Home, Part 1. Boredom

The first thing the doctor says when he takes a brief look at the injury is:
- Ligament damage. Nothing more.
They still make x rays and everything else, just in case. But in the end, the doctor was right. Just a sprain.
I don't really know what should I do, cry in despair or sigh in relief. It's not a broken bone, and the tear is not full. But every time I make a step with my right leg, it hurts. Plus they made me wear a cast and use a crutch to walk, so everyone will see that I'm not ok.

Great.

- Could have been worse, - says Gaspard, who helps me get back to the dorm, and now firmly holds my arm, as we slowly, step by step, go down the porch, - Have you heard about Dave Grohl?
- Yeah-yeah, broke his leg, got a cast and finished the show like that. Well, no one's gonna let me sing in a cast. And with this thing, - I swing my crutch, — It looks horrible.
- You gotta speak to Luck Castel and his crew, - Gas suggests, - He's quite a crazy guy, and might come up with something. He'll find a way to get you on stage.
- He'd better find it, oh, he'd better find it, - I mumble.  Everything was going so great, and it's gone to crap in an instant. Why, karma, why.
- Looks like your destiny's telling you to take a break, - Mika answers my silent question. He meets us at the parking and grabs my other arm, so they two lead me to Penniman's car.
- A break? - I ask, although I know what he's talking about.
- Yep. Someone's already told the big bosses of the show about the incident. They think about sending you on a sick leave.
- Back home? - I stop and take a second to comprehend it. And feel tears creeping into my eyes, - Am I... Disqualified?!
- No, no, no. Not at all, - Mika tries to calm me down, - They're just giving you a week to heal up and get well. It's not like you're performing this Saturday, right.
I hear what he's saying, but can't fight the tears and feeling that I'm left behind. And knowing that my make up is going to melt, cover my eyes.
- Shit.

And Luck doesn't make the situation better. Mika gives me his number while we drive.
- You know what happened? - the first thing I ask.
- Yes.
- You're gonna help me do the show?
- If I see you next Monday fine and standing, - he says, - I can't promise you anything right now.
This is bullshit. I don't want to take a break, I can't relax now!
- What do I do? - I turn to Mika in desperation.
His gaze on the road, he takes a deep breath before he talks.
- I got sick once during the tour. Like, really sick. I was told to stop and wait until I feel better. But I refused. Just got some antibiotics and continued like nothing happened. Guess what happened next.
- You lost your voice, - I know this story. It was not really long ago.
- Yep, - my coach nods, - And had to cancel far more shows than I would have if I had agreed to take a break.
- So you're telling me to give up, - I sigh.
- I'm telling you to give up, - he agrees, - To take a break while you still can. Next weeks are gonna be a mad rush, and even if you survive the next show, you'll most likely break down later, during some important Semi-finals and Finals. I want you fully focused and working, and I'm sure you do too.
He's right, of course he is. But that's not what I want to hear right now.

- I know what you're feeling, - Mika speaks again, - You like this rush. Maybe you're feeling alive for the first time in a while. But trust me, soon you'll remember these days and be grateful for them. I'm serious now, Alice.
I have to agree. And just silently nod, knowing that he's looking at me in the rear-view mirror.
- Besides, it's not like I'll leave you alone! - my coach continues, picking up his favourite sassy tone, - Oh, no, sweet Alice, I won't let you forget about practice! You keep working on that piece, ok? And if you want to renew the practicing or just ramble about something, don't hesitate, my phone is always on.
- Mine is too, - Gaspard joins him, - You can call me anytime. Like, any time.
- You're feeling better? - Mika feel the need to check.
- Yeah, much better. Thanks, - I reply. What am I gonna do without these guys?
And then I remember Mika's little promise and lean forward to his seat, - So why, really?
Instead of answering, Mika pulls over.
- I guess you have to wait for the next time, - he says.

I'm sent home that same day. Girls meet me at the station with sad smiles. Although I see they're glad we're together again.
-  They say healing is better at home, - Andrea says on our way. Justine agrees:
- Besides, you have Andy here, and she's going to become a real doctor soon. She's gonna watch you like no other doctor would.
And she does. All the medication, trips to the hospital, exercises - all scheduled minute by minute.
- You wanna perform next Saturday or not? - that's her basic argument for my every disagreement.
Her constant presence may be a bit annoying, but I have to admit, it works. The injury doesn't look that scary now, swelling gets smaller and smaller every day, and I can walk more without getting hurt.

The only problem now that I have is the most trivial one.
I'm bored.
After a busy week like I had before, I crave for action. I want to work on my performance and my voice, I want to learn new techniques and get into interviews and rehearsals and all those little preparations that kept me and my mind occupied. And silence is now sinking and killing me.
I honestly tried to follow Mika's advice and get rest. I survived two days. But on the Thursday morning I realise that I can't take it anymore.
So I do the only thing that I see as a valid option.
I find Mister Brown in my contacts.