Nocturne

by Andrea Randall

  “Any time you came into my office, Savannah, you were ready to argue points that didn’t need arguing.” I chuckled, sipping more of my drink, until the ice clinked against my teeth.

  “Fair enough.” She nodded. “How have you been? You and Karin, huh?” Her eyes were honest, endearing. With just a hint of the fire that sucked me in the first time I ever saw her.

  “Yeah …”

  “Everything okay?” She crossed her arms and took a step closer. Just close enough for me to smell the lilies.

  “I’m sorry, Savannah,” I blurted out as I set my glass down behind me and shoved my hands into my pockets.

  She swallowed hard, her cheeks turning pink. “Gregory, you don’t have to—”

  “No,” I stopped her, “I do. It was cruel of me to treat you the way I did that day. I thought at the time I was doing what was best for you, and for me ... but you deserved better from me.”

  “Look,” she cleared her throat mmmand looked down for a moment before capturing me with her glistening gaze, “I didn’t ask to speak with you so you could apologize. I wanted to tell you that I’m fine. Everything is fine and the past is in the past, okay?” She started to turn for the door.

  “Savannah, wait.” I reached out, taking hold of her hand.

  She stopped and faced me again. Her lip was trembling slightly, and her eyes looked conflicted. She laced her fingers between mine. “What?”

  “I …” I gently tugged her hand so she would take one more step toward me. My head was spinning, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the gin or the feel of her hand in mine.

  Our toes were touching and I stared into her eyes before my gaze fell to her cheeks, then her lips. The pull I felt to the woman standing before me was undeniable. Startling. It felt like we were standing on Madeline’s porch five years ago. My lips parted as I fought to say something to get out of this. To get out of holding hands with Savannah at our friends’ wedding.

  Savannah bit her lip and gave a long sigh, leaning in so her mouth almost touched my ear. “You should go home to your wife, Gregory,” she whispered before freeing her hand from mine and walking back inside without a backward glance.

  Gregory

  Walking home from checking in on James and Madeline’s house, as they were off on their honeymoon, I found myself enjoying the silence. Peaceful silence. The kind of silence that allows you to hear the leaves hum the wind’s song. Not the kind of dreadful emptiness that I knew awaited me at home.

  Karin had never been one for the silent treatment. We actually hadn’t fought much at all until recently. She wanted to reopen the baby discussion, I told her that one a.m. simply wasn’t the time, and I went to sleep. For three days I found myself watching the calendar, begging for the summer tour to start so I could escape the constant scrutiny.

  Tossing my keys on the door upon entering my home, I saw Karin curled up on the couch in the formal living room, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She seemed startled by my entrance and turned toward the south-facing window. Away from me. My chest felt heavy, seeing her in such a state. The silent anger I could handle. Hearing the sniffles of falling tears, however, I couldn’t. She was beyond mad, now. She was hurting.

  “Karin.” I exhaled slowly and made my way to the couch, sitting gently next to her. She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas yet, and her hair was snarled about her head.

  “Leave me alone, Gregory. Please.” Her voice shook as she rested her head on her knees.

  Ignoring her, I placed my hand softly on her back.

  “I said leave me alone,” she repeated with no hesitation.

  Removing my hand from her back, I clasped them in front of me, leaning forward so my elbows were resting on my knees. “I won’t leave you alone, Karin. You’re my wife and you’re upset. I want to talk about whatever it is that’s upsetting you enough to cloak this place in silence for the last three days.”

  Karin chuckled softly, sardonically. “Three days of silence is too much for you, yet I’m supposed to smile and live with a ghost for the last five years?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I could live with the idea of Savannah Marshall, Gregory. Her existence in the world, your history with her—”

  “I have no history with Savannah, Karin,” I lied.

  “You still can’t admit it! The top student at the conservatory leaves at the beginning of her senior year, and you resign within a week of that. Don’t you dare tell me there’s no history with you two, Gregory. Especially not after half of Glen Wild’s fundamentals class saw you two making out on the street.” With a petulant scoff, Karin leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Taking a deep breath to keep my patience in check, I slowly faced Karin. “We’ve discussed my reasons for resigning from the conservatory. Those are also five years old. What I don’t understand is what you mean by her ghost.”

  Wordlessly, Karin stood and walked over to the baby grand piano by the window, gliding her fingers over the glossy black wood before talking at the window.

  “I’d heard the rumors, just like everyone else. But I thought they were simply rumors. You’re a good man, Gregory, with strong ethics. I knew you’d never endanger your career by sleeping with a student. When you brushed me off in Lenox that summer, I thought that I was done with you. That you weren’t interested in anyone, let alone me. You hadn’t had a girlfriend since being in the conservatory yourself.” Karin shrugged and turned toward me, leaning against the piano. “Then you kissed her. In the middle of Boston for all to see.”

  I swallowed hard, nodding. There was little I could do to refute that, especially given I never told her I’d slept with Savannah.

  “Though you and I hadn’t been on a date in several months by that point, it hurt me. The thought of you kissing Savannah—or anyone really. I’d cared a lot about you early on, and you just weren’t interested in me.”

  Not knowing where she was going with this, I felt the need to stand and meet her at the Steinway that was hosting this discussion. “Karin, I love you …” I trailed off, taking her hands in mine.

  “Then why haven’t I ever had the Gregory Savannah Marshall got to have? The one who will go dancing without hours of persuasion? The one who will grab me on a busy street corner and kiss me like no one is watching?” My lips parted to retort, but she continued. “I get the ghost of you. Why that girl got that part of you no one had ever seen before, I’ll never know …”

  “Then why did you marry me?” I spit out distastefully.

  “Because I love you!” Fresh tears spilled down her drained cheeks. “You’re intelligent, passionate, talented … when we started dating again you said all the right things, did all the right things, and made me believe you’d changed. That you’d moved on from whatever it was that happened between you and Savannah.” She shook her hands out of my hold and placed them on her hips, looking down.

  I worked hard over the months after Savannah disappeared to regain my footing. To remind myself why I never got involved with anyone. It was too distracting to my career. Karin was safe, though. She understood my commitment to my craft and never questioned the long hours. She was patient and loving and didn’t get in the way of my goals.

  “What makes you think I haven’t changed?” I asked, incredulously.

  “The look on your face when you saw her at the wedding. You looked like you’d seen a ghost, and I realized I’d been living with one.”

  Frustrated at her accusations, I ran a hand through my hair and turned away, pacing to the other side of the living room. “Yes, it was surprising. I haven’t seen or spoken to Savannah in five years, you know that. But for you to stand there and assert that the way I looked at her somehow disregards our entire relationship is foolish, Karin. I love you.”

  Karin’s face changed. Calm, as she walked toward me, she looked up at me with wide eyes. “Then let’s start a family, Gregory. Let’s have a baby.”

  “Damn it, Karin!” I spoke through tight
ly clenched teeth.

  She took a step back and furrowed her brow. “What?”

  “You will not use this situation to emotionally blackmail me into having a baby with you.” I turned quickly on my heels and headed for the kitchen to get a drink. And space.

  Karin shouted after me as she followed. “Are you kidding me, Gregory? You think I’m blackmailing you?”

  Slamming the refrigerator door shut after retrieving a bottle of water, I shouted, “Explain yourself, then. Explain how that senseless story about some student I kissed five years ago led to you asking me to concede to having children!”

  Karin jumped. “Concede?” she shouted back. “That’s what people do when they get married, Gregory. They get married and start a goddamn family!”

  “No!” I slammed my fist on the granite island. “That’s what people who want to have children do, Karin. People who discussed it while they dated, while they were engaged. We never discussed it! We discussed travelling and buying a second home somewhere …”

  “You discussed it.”

  “What?” I asked, finally taking a sip of my water.

  “You discussed those things, Gregory. You discussed travelling the world, hoping to maybe play with a symphony overseas for a time. You discussed buying a second home in the Berkshires. You never asked me what I thought of all of that. Or what I wanted. You put more thought into whether or not you were going to pick up lessons with that blind boy again than you did into fixing our marriage.”

  I shook my head violently. She knew I’d never felt equipped to teach Robert. “First of all, that blind boy has a name, and he’s an accomplished musician and needs someone advanced to continue his lessons. Second. You agreed with what I was saying, Karin. You never spoke out against any of it. And, knowing what I wanted, you married me anyway, without ever mentioning your desire for children. What did you expect from me?”

  Karin rolled her eyes. “I expected more. I expected a relationship.” Contempt curled around her words as she looked through me.

  “I don’t have time for this, I have to practice.” I sighed and left the kitchen, heading for my practice room.

  “Excuse me? You’re still considering going on this tour?” she shrieked.

  I stopped abruptly and turned just as fast. “No,” I spit out, “I’m not considering going. I am going. Practice starts in a few days and we’re leaving at the end of next week and will be gone through June and July.”

  “You’re a selfish bastard, you know that?” Her disdain for me was palpable.

  Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed. “Perhaps you should stay at James and Madeline’s house for a few days.”

  She gasped. “What did you just say?”

  “We’re not going to resolve this today, and I refuse to walk in this house every day feeling uncomfortable and looked down upon. James and Madeline will be out of town for the next two weeks. They’re returning home a few days after I leave for the tour.”

  “I’m not leaving.”

  “This is my house, Karin.”

  “Oh fuck off, Gregory. This is our house. We’re married.” Karin never swore, and the conviction in her words irritated me.

  “Fine. I’ll go.” Reaching into my practice room, I pulled out my cello case and walked to the front door.

  “Just you and your cello? Surprise, surprise.” Karin didn’t follow me down the hall. She leaned against the wall and watched me go.

  Without engaging with her any further, I slammed the door behind me and made my way for James and Madeline’s.

  As soon as I settled into their living room, I set my iPod in the dock on their shelf and pressed play. Within seconds, I was playing Assobio a Jato along with the sounds of Savannah playing her flute during her brief senior year. We’d each recorded the other playing so we could practice in our spare time. Sometime after she left I moved my CD recording to my iPod, and this was the first time I pressed play.

  Closing my eyes as I moved through each measure of the song, I watched Savannah’s eyebrows pull together, strands of her golden hair falling into her face as she kept up with whatever tempo I set. I wanted to play harder and faster than this recording, but I stayed with Savannah, allowing her even tempo to wash over me, to calm the bitterness I felt toward Karin. How dare Karin try to use her insecurities to guilt me into having children with her.

  Sweat formed across my brow and slid coolly down the side of my face as I was brought back into the practice rooms at the conservatory, where Savannah and I had stolen many kisses. Too many. Shaking my head slightly, I returned my thoughts to Karin. Perhaps I was unnecessarily cruel in suggesting she leave the house for a few days. I was the one with the issue. I was the one struggling with the idea of forming a family. Whether or not Karin could admit it now, this tour would give both of us time to cool off and reassess our goals. I was confident that by the time I returned in August, we would be able to start fresh, with clear expectations on moving forward.

  As I neared the end of Assobio, the memory of Savanna’s smile every time we successfully finished the piece left me breathless, and angry. I set down my cello and walked to the docking station, roughly tore my iPod out of it, and threw it against the wall with a growl.

  Walking over to where it lay on the ground, I knelt down and picked it up. Thumbing back to Savannah’s recording, I deleted it as quickly as I could.

  Savannah

  “Are you sure about this, guys? I feel a little weird about it.” Sitting across from Nathan and Marcia at a tiny coffee shop in Andover, I struggled over the decision to join the Big Five tour for the summer.

  “What the hell is holding you back?” Marcia chuckled. “You’re just home from Moscow and have zero plans for the summer. At least this will give you something to focus on. And keep you playing.”

  “Can’t you come, too?” I looked to her pleadingly.

  “I’d love to, you know that. I would have auditioned for it if I hadn’t already committed to so many private lessons this summer. They start right when school ends.” Marcia was a middle school band director in Andover and seemed to absolutely love her job.

  Nathan feigned hurt. “What? I’m not enough?”

  I laughed. “No, I’m thrilled you’re going. But … that’s the thing. Like Marcia just said, she would have to audition. Madeline said I could just … take her spot.”

  I shook my head thinking about the brief conversation I had with Madeline the day after her wedding. She told me the organizers of the tour would be more than happy to have me in her spot, especially since I played for the Bolshoi Ballet, and they knew I had maintained my training.

  “Come on,” Nathan cocked his head to the side the way he always did when he was being sweet, “don’t you think the organizers—the ones from Boston anyway—are thrilled to get their hands on you again?”

  “What does that mean?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek.

  Marcia smiled. “Savannah.”

  “Marcia,” I shot back playfully.

  “They love you,” she continued warmly. “Not just because you’re amazingly gifted, though that’s a huge part of it. When you left it was like the star quarterback walking away from a zillion-dollar NFL deal, or something. You could have had any symphony you wanted, and they were all just waiting for you to decide.”

  I sighed, recalling the many emails and letters I’d received over the last five years asking me to come practice with, or audition for, orchestras from Boston to San Francisco. I ignored some, politely declined the others. That wasn’t what I wanted then.

  “We’re not saying they’re going to spend the summer scouting you, Savannah,” Nathan entered. “But if you take yourself seriously on this tour, you could very well have your pick all over again … if that’s what you want.”

  “All right, all right, I’ll do it.” I smiled, butterflies forming in my stomach over performing with the most elite musicians in America.

  “Yes!” Nathan high-fived me. It would be g
reat to spend the summer catching up with him, as well. “It’s basically just going to be the youngest members of the symphonies anyway, since we’re the ones who are going to lead them in a few short years. So, we’ll be in good company. And you’ll finally be able to meet Christine.”

  Christine was Nathan’s girlfriend of the last six months. She graduated from Eastman the same year Nathan graduated from NEC and was one of two harp players with the Chicago Symphony. Whenever he said her name his eyes would light up, and his entire body jerked to attention every time he heard the chime from an incoming text message.

  I smiled. “That’d be great. Well,” I sighed, “I suppose I should call the number Madeline left me and get organized. Nate, you’re not staying in the hotel for the next two weeks are you? We should just stay at Madeline’s. She said to call her if we wanted to, and she’d cancel her house sitter.”

  Marcia played with her napkin as she spoke. “You’re not going to stay with—”

  “No,” I cut her off. She and Nathan shared a sideways glance. “I don’t want to talk about that right now, okay?”

  “Okay,” she shrugged, “let’s talk about what we want to get at the liquor store this afternoon. You two aren’t staying at Madeline’s or in a hotel. You guys can stay with me. I own a house, remember? I’m all grown up and stuff.”

  We all laughed. For the first time in several years, aside from my experience with Bolshoi, I was feeling excitement over my prospects come the end of the summer.

  Several hours later, I was sitting at a table outside the Hyatt Boston Harbor, overlooking the water. A refreshing breeze blew through my hair as I sipped a Chilean Sauvignon Blanc, watching tiny boats go back and forth across the harbor. From this distance, the city looked beautiful. Peaceful and inviting, taking in the view of Boston from this distance reminded me why I’d chosen NEC over Juilliard, despite the enticing scholarship package they’d offered. Even Nathan left his beloved Chicago to attend here. The proper blend of American history and contemporary excitement, I’d once hoped to call Boston home. Despite my best efforts, it was impossible for me to separate Boston from Gregory Fitzgerald. I was gazing at the place my heart was broken.