One Fine Day

by Erica Abbott

  She put the glass down with a clatter but, to Caroline’s relief, didn’t reach for the bottle. Caroline said cautiously, “Isn’t this good news?”

  “Oh, yeah. Great news. Murray may or may not appoint me as the replacement department head in real property next week, and either way, I just don’t goddamn care.”

  Now Caroline felt the cold begin to penetrate her chest. What was wrong? She couldn’t bring herself to ask, the icy fear paralyzing her. The music playing was soft, a choir singing a language she didn’t know. Russian, perhaps?

  “What is this?” she asked, at length. “Is it from some opera I haven’t heard of?”

  “It’s Rachmaninoff. Vespers.” She waved a hand vaguely around the room. “It’s about time for vespers, I think. Not everything is from an opera, you know.”

  Caroline could not remember being more frightened in her life. Some stranger had come in and taken Jill over, driving out the woman she’d been with all week and replacing her with this slightly drunken, embittered soul.

  “Jill,” she whispered hoarsely. “What is it?”

  Jill fixed her with a sudden look, her dark eyes angry. “What’s the matter, Caroline? Voice a little rough?”

  Her heart was ice. “Jillian—” she began.

  “Maybe you’d like to explain to me why you dropped in this afternoon to see one of the country’s leading otolaryngologists,” Jill said. “His name was on your calendar for this afternoon’s appointment. And according to my research, he specializes in the diagnosis and treatment of vocal disorders. Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

  Caroline shut her eyes a moment, as if it would help her escape the hostility in Jill’s voice. “I should have told you,” she finally said.

  “Oh, no, don’t be silly,” Jill said, sarcasm lacing her words. “Why would you need to tell me anything? I’m just your lover. You remember, the woman you couldn’t live without.”

  “Jill, don’t do this.”

  “Fuck you, Caroline.”

  The words hit her like a sharp slap to the face. “I should have told you,” Caroline said again. She steeled herself for the words. She’d told no one, but telling Jill would be the most difficult task she could imagine.

  “I started having trouble last fall,” she began slowly. “My voice didn’t sound right, I was hoarse almost all of the time. So I went to see a physician in Switzerland.”

  Caroline drew a painful breath. Jill’s face was like stone. She continued, “He diagnosed a condition called Reinke’s edema, swelling of the vocal folds due to overuse. The treatment he recommended was complete vocal rest. No singing at all.”

  There was flicker of some emotion on Jill’s face for a moment, but then it vanished.

  “If I stop singing, the swelling might go down on its own. If it doesn’t, I’ll probably need surgery. And surgery won’t restore my voice to its original state. If I have the surgery, I’ll never sing again. At all. I saw another doctor in New York when I got back, and Dr. Sorento today. They all say the same thing. No singing for a year, at least. If that doesn’t work, surgery. And then it’s really over.”

  Jill stared at her a moment, then reached over for the bottle again.

  “You don’t need any more to drink,” Caroline said.

  “That’s a sad little story,” Jill said, ignoring her comment and splashing another inch of whiskey into the glass. “Now get out of my house.”

  Another jolt went coursing through her. “What?”

  “And why didn’t you tell me?” Jill asked bitterly. “Oh, I know. Because then I’d know the truth about why you came back.”

  “Jill, I didn’t lie to you, I just didn’t tell you—”

  Jill cut her off angrily. “Don’t you even try that! Haven’t you already fucked with me enough? God, I cannot believe I was such a fool, believing you again!”

  Caroline gripped the arm of the couch to keep from crumpling completely onto the floor. “Jill, this has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid.”

  “Afraid of losing your voice?” Jill sneered, her tone ugly.

  “Afraid that you wouldn’t love me if I couldn’t sing anymore.” It hurt to say, more than she’d thought it would.

  Jill sat back, surprised for the first time in the conversation. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You fell in love with my voice, you told me that. What if—” That same voice broke a moment before she went on. “What if you didn’t want me anymore if I couldn’t sing? I couldn’t bear to take that chance. That’s why I didn’t tell you, Jill. I love you, and I couldn’t risk you rejecting me if I couldn’t sing.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jill said bitterly. “Exactly how shallow do you think I am? Would you love me if I couldn’t be a lawyer? Or play the piano?”

  “I would love you no matter what, you know that.”

  “Then why would you think I would love you less?” Jill shook her head, and then said, “We both know you’re lying. You weren’t afraid I wouldn’t love you. You lied to me, Caroline. After you told me I could trust you, you lied to me.”

  “Jill, no.”

  “Yes. You didn’t quit and come back for me, isn’t that what you told me? No, you quit because you had no fucking choice. I’m just the consolation prize, isn’t that right? No more opera career for you, so you’ll have to settle for the girl you left behind.”

  Caroline couldn’t move, could hardly think, her body cold all the way through. She understood everything Jill believed. “You’re wrong,” she managed to choke out. “I came back for you. Even before I started having trouble with my voice, I’d told my agent to make inquiries for a job here in Colorado. Everything I told you was true, I swear. The Met offered me a position, in New York. I turned them down, Jill. It was always about you.”

  Jill looked at her a long time. Then she reached for her glass, and drank down the Scotch in a single swallow. “You know what, Caroline? I just don’t believe you any more. Get out of my house.”

  Desperation edging her words, Caroline said, “Don’t do this to us, Jill. You’re not just breaking my heart. You’re going to break your own.”

  “Get. Out.”

  Caroline felt the tears start, and she couldn’t stop them, she didn’t want to try. “Jill, please. I love you.”

  Suddenly, Jill threw the heavy crystal glass in her hand across the room. It shattered against the wall, a trace of light brown liquid trickling down the paint like blood. Caroline jumped up, backing away from her. In all their years together, she’d never seen this from Jill.

  “Get the fuck out, Caroline, before I do something I’ll regret,” Jill hissed.

  Caroline grabbed her purse, but said, “This isn’t over for us. I won’t let it be.”

  “It’s not your choice. Leave.”

  * * *

  It took Caroline half an hour before she could stop crying enough to call Terry.

  She got her on her cell phone. There was a heavy bass thump of music mingling with Terry’s voice.

  “Caroline?” Terry said.

  “Terry, I need your help,” Caroline said.

  There was pause so long that Caroline might have feared the call had been dropped, except that she could still hear the music behind Terry. “It’s Jill,” Caroline added, a little desperately.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “She’s very upset. And she’s been drinking.”

  “Jill doesn’t drink, not to excess.”

  “Well, she’s drinking now.”

  Terry asked, “Are you with her?”

  “No. She’s at home. By herself.”

  “What the hell happened?”

  “It’s too long a story to go into now. I just want you to go over and check on her, make sure she’s all right.”

  “I’m guessing there’s a reason you’re not going over there yourself.”

  Caroline blinked back tears. She was not going to start c
rying again. “Yes,” she answered. “It’s me she’s angry with, actually.”

  “Is this about work?”

  Obviously, Terry wasn’t going to settle for minimal information. “No,” Caroline admitted. “I—we had a fight.”

  “A fight,” Terry repeated. “And now she’s drinking. What kind of fight? Oh, my God, Caroline. Did you sleep with her?”

  It seemed a desperately inadequate summary for what had happened between them, but Caroline settled for, “Yes. Now will you go over there and make sure she’s all right?”

  “Yes, okay,” Terry said finally. “I’m on my way.”

  Caroline exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Terry. And one more thing. Will you call or text me when you’re on your way home. It doesn’t matter how late it is. I need to know that Jill is okay.”

  Terry hesitated, then said, “I might have to stay tonight, just to make sure she’s all right.”

  Caroline’s stomach clenched, but Jill’s safety was more important than her jealousy.

  “I understand,” she said. “Just call me and let me know Jill is safe.”

  “I will,” Terry promised.

  * * *

  The text message Caroline received at two thirty-nine a.m. read only, “All ok, will call u tmrw.”

  When Terry called her the next morning, Caroline snatched up the phone eagerly. “How is she?”

  “Hung over,” Terry said succinctly. “But she’ll survive. I fed her aspirin and orange juice and most of a piece of toast. She’ll live. Fortunately, I got her to stop drinking when I got there. Instead, she does what she usually does when she’s upset.”

  “Completely shut down,” Caroline murmured.

  “Yeah. Not a single word.”

  “Thank you for going over there last night,” Caroline said. “I really appreciate this, Terry.”

  “She was really torn up,” Terry persisted. “And she wouldn’t tell me why. Are you going to tell me?”

  “I did tell you. We had a fight, that’s all.”

  “Um, I don’t think so. I had fights with her, and she never drank. Not like this.”

  Caroline let the implication lie unspoken between them.

  “Well,” Terry continued forcefully, “whatever it is, for God’s sake, Caroline, fix it. She still looked terrible this morning, and it wasn’t just the hangover. She looks like somebody stepped on her puppy or something.”

  “I’ll try,” Caroline answered, her voice shaking just a little. “I might need your help.”

  There was a pause, then Terry said, “Do you love her, Caroline? Or are you just screwing around with her? Because after last night I can tell you I really think she’s in love with you. I know Jill. And she’s in love with you.”

  “I love her too,” Caroline said. “I’m not playing games. Her happiness is at stake, Terry. And so is mine. Will you help me?”

  “Yes,” Terry sighed. “And by the way, since you didn’t ask, nothing happened last night. I slept in the guest room after I put her to bed.”

  “I knew that,” Caroline said, but relief still flooded her. She’d been up all night, worrying, thinking, trying to plan. “Now, here’s what I’d like for you to do.”

  When she finished, Terry said, “Do you really think that will work?”

  “Honestly, Terry, I have no idea. But I can’t give up on her. I have to try.”

  * * *

  Jill walked slowly up the sidewalk toward Varga. She hadn’t really wanted to meet Terry tonight at all, but she felt she owed Terry an audience after Terry pretty much had to baby-sit her last Friday.

  The headache had lasted most of Saturday, but Jill had been too heartsick to care. She had gone over every second of the time she and Caroline had spent together since Caroline had come back, trying to determine if she should have seen the lies, the false promises, before. But nothing came back to her except Caroline, kissing her, touching her body, holding her.

  How could she have been such a total and complete fool?

  She wanted to believe Caroline, but she couldn’t. She felt manipulated, used, and her anger wouldn’t leave her. It tightened her back, sent her stomach clenching in misery. She would hardly be able to eat tonight, but Terry had been gushing on about some new woman she’d met, an aspiring opera singer, no less, and she wanted to tell Jill all about her.

  Jill figured she needed to come tonight anyway and warn Terry about the hazards of falling in love with an opera singer. Singers only cared about themselves, their glorious careers. Love was far down on their list of priorities.

  She’d tried hard for a week to despise Caroline, to nurse her anger into hatred. She hadn’t quite accomplished it yet, but she had a lifetime left for it to happen.

  Terry was waiting for her at the door, and gave her the usual big hug. “How are you?” Terry asked.

  “I’ve been better,” Jill admitted.

  Terry evaluated her critically. “Yes, I’d say. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

  “Thanks for the pep talk. Can we go in now? You can tell me all about your new flame.”

  “Just a second,” Terry said, putting a hand on Jill’s arm. “There’s something I want to tell you before we go in.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I did a little digging this week. Did you know that Caroline Prince really was offered an important job with the Met? And she turned it down to come here. It was some big secret, because the Met didn’t want their new director to know that he was their second choice, but I got the story from a friend who has a contact in the Met itself.”

  “Is that right?” Jill said miserably.

  “Yeah. And she’d apparently been trying to get a job back in Colorado for months before that. Another contact of mine with the Central City Opera up in the mountains told me she’d contacted them about an opening last year.”

  Jill stared at her. Had Caroline been telling her the truth? What did that mean? “Terry, why are you telling me this?”

  Terry smiled, and her smile held satisfaction, resignation, and a touch of sadness. She said softly, “She really loves you, Jill. Go inside.”

  Jill said, “What the hell is—”

  “Just go in.”

  Jill opened the door and went into the restaurant.

  It was empty. No bartender, no waitresses, nothing except some music playing on the system, and a single table with a covered platter in the middle of it, and plates set for two.

  Jill turned to ask Terry what was going on, but Terry hadn’t come in with her. Instead, moving into the light from the dark corner of the restaurant, was Caroline.

  She wore the blue silk dress, her hair up in a chignon. Even in the dim light, Jill could see the indigo eyes shining.

  Her heart thundered against her chest. Even after everything that had happened, her body still craved Caroline just as it craved air.

  “Jillian,” Caroline said, and as she stepped into the light, Jill could read every emotion on her face: fear, regret, love. And above all else, a deep and abiding hope.

  How hard must it have been for her? Jill wondered for the first time. Caroline lived to sing, and with that taken away from her, how could she still look at Jill, at anything, with this kind of hope?

  Caroline pressed a remote, and a moment later the music changed. It was her own voice that softly filled the restaurant, the high opening notes of “Un bel di.”

  “One fine day,” Caroline translated the Italian.

  Jill could see the tears gleaming in Caroline’s eyes.

  “I love you, Jill,” she said. “I don’t want to live without you. Please, Jill, forgive me. Forgive me, and let us be together. We need to be together. I need you.”

  “Caroline,” Jill managed, in turmoil. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Caroline stood still, looking at her. One tear escaped, but she said nothing. Her voice on the recording sang, “I wait a long time, but I do not feel sorrow for the long waiting.”

  Her voice breakin
g, Jill whispered, “Oh, Caroline.” What if Caroline had been telling her the truth? What if Caroline had really come back only to be with her?

  “Hold back your fears,” the song continued.

  How could she be with Caroline?

  How could she live without Caroline?

  The music surged to its climax. “I, with serene faith, wait…”

  Caroline was telling her that she would wait for her. How long? How much more time would Jill waste being alone? The rest of her life?

  Not one more day, she realized. Not one more day without Caroline.

  Suddenly the murky haze of emotions she had been trying to sort through seemed to dissipate, as if sunlight had filled a dark room.

  Jill slowly crossed the room toward her, her heart pounding so loudly she could scarcely hear the music ending. “I need you, too,” she whispered, and took Caroline into her arms.

  The tears spilled over, running down Caroline’s cheeks. Jill kissed them away and then she kissed Caroline’s mouth.

  “I do love you,” Jill murmured.

  “I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

  They kissed again, in silence as the song had ended, and all Jill could hear was her heart beating still, in rhythm with Caroline’s heart. As it should be, as it always had been.

  “I am so sorry,” Caroline said softly again.

  “Hush.” Jill released her and said, “Come home with me now.”

  Caroline brushed a tear away and said, “We should eat first.”

  “How?” Jill glanced around. “You apparently closed the restaurant down for the night.”

  “It wasn’t difficult,” Caroline was smiling through her tears. “Julia said she hadn’t had a Friday night off for years. There was some compensation involved. I made other arrangements for dinner.”

  Jill laughed. The anger and hurt she had carried inside had disappeared, like smoke in a fresh breeze. “So what are we having?” she asked Caroline, as she sat down at the table.

  Caroline lifted the cloche from the platter with a flourish. “What did you think?”

  Jill stared down at the platter, then answered Caroline’s smile with her own. “Shrimp fried rice,” she said. “My favorite.”