Friendzoned Soprano

by Irene Vartanoff

  He was aghast, and he deserved to be. That shut him up. This was the new me. No more Ms. Nice Soprano. It felt good.

  Much as I wanted to sweep out of the building in a grand gesture after my little speech, I needed to change out of the gown to keep it clean, on the slight possibility I could wear it again. I liked the gown and adored how it flattered my figure. Although Claudio was probably right about never wearing it officially again, maybe I could don it for some private event.

  At my locker, I heard, “Here you are.”

  Sean’s voice. I straightened my shoulders and turned, dreading the thought of another confrontation. Sean stood there, taking me in. Whatever his original intentions were, he saw my feelings with one glance and moved to put his arms around me.

  “You were wonderful,” he murmured. “Your voice was a miracle. But you look frazzled. Are you okay?”

  I heaved a sigh and relaxed against his chest. Which was crazy. That wasn’t our dynamic at all. Or maybe it was. Friends comfort each other in times of stress. “Thank you, friend.”

  “Friend?” His quizzical expression suggested he doubted my proclamation.

  “Friend.” I said it firmly. I pulled away and opened the locker. I handed him the roses so I could carry my clothes. Also, to keep him from touching me again. I was that weak and tempted when he made body contact with me. “Thank you for the beautiful flowers. The others, too.”

  I walked toward the dressing rooms.

  He fell into step next to me. “We have to talk.”

  I shook my head. “No, we don’t.” I didn’t want him to use his sweet-talking charm to cross over the friendzone again and set me up for more emotional pain. “Thanks for coming. I’ll see you on Monday at the dress rehearsal.”

  “What about tomorrow?” he pressed.

  “I’m spending the day in DC with my girlfriend.” I could have kicked myself. Why did I say “girlfriend”? Why couldn’t I have been more mysterious?

  “Why not right now?”

  I shook my head. “I’m busy.”

  “The girlfriend again?”

  “You and I will see each other for dress rehearsal and the four performances next week. That’s plenty for a friendship.”

  “You can’t mean that.”

  I ignored the incredulity in his voice. Maybe other women always said yes to little meaningless flings with him. I wasn’t one of them, not anymore. “I’ve made myself abundantly clear. I don’t want to get involved with someone who’s just playing around.”

  “But—”

  “Please leave.” I opened the door to an empty women’s dressing room.

  He stood on the threshold. “I’m not giving up.”

  I laid the garment bag across a chair and put other articles within easy reach. I put my arms out for the roses he carried.

  He handed them to me reluctantly, and leaned over to kiss me.

  I pulled away from him. “Go home, Sean.” I turned so I wouldn’t have to see his crestfallen expression. I didn’t want to weaken.

  Sean just stood there, so I ignored him and got on with the routine of changing. Makeup had to come off first, or the gown could get stained. I sat at the dressing table and worked to remove the paint. I seemed very naked without the big necklace to disguise the gown’s low neckline. Plump breasts. Plump everything else, too. Better than in the past, but still fat. Did Sean like what he saw? Did he want me, the whole me, or did he just want his world to be happy and light even if his actions caused other people pain? Like Julie. And potentially, like me.

  Maybe he actually had some feeling for me beyond friendship, but I couldn’t deal with the question tonight. Getting attacked by a maniacal diva and daring to speak up in my own defense had taken enough out of me. I wanted to crash at Diana’s and not think about anything.

  He still hadn’t left. “Can’t we talk this over like two reasonable human beings?”

  “Not tonight.” I turned in the chair and faced him as I said, “I’ve got a date.”

  I’d surprised him, and it showed in his crestfallen expression. The fat girl could get dates? Yes, of course she could, but I didn’t have a date tonight. Why did I lie? Because I didn’t want him to think I was another in his long line of female pushovers.

  “I’ll see you another time, then,” he said stiffly. He turned around and left, closing the door behind him very quietly. After I rose and locked it, I sat at the dressing table again and viciously attacked the layers of makeup on my face. I hated myself. Had I hurt him? I didn’t want to hurt him, but more than that, I didn’t want to be the conquest of the week, or the day, or the hour. So far, Sean had shown me he was capable of seeing a lot of women without committing to any. That was his privilege, but I refused to give him permission to keep messing with my emotions while playing his lighthearted games. This was about love, which was something I valued too much to waste on a man who was just fooling around.

  I fought back futile tears, wiping them out of my eyes with the heel of my hand. I had to be strong. I deserved to be loved, not played with like a toy.

  When I finally emerged with my gown in its garment bag and everything else tucked into my satchel, I didn’t see Sean anywhere. Relieved, I walked toward the stage door. The guard was gone, but I could call a private cab service and be away in five minutes.

  In even less time, the car was pulling up to the entrance. As I went outside to meet my driver, I noticed two things at once. A man was standing outside the theater in a dark spot, watching me. He was tall enough to be Sean. He might be Sean. And James had just come outside. I didn’t want another confrontation with Sean, because I was tempted to give in and do whatever he wanted.

  “Hey, Abbie. Going my way?” James asked.

  James never gave up. But I could fight him off at Diana’s door. “Hop in,” I said.

  I hoped Sean—if indeed it was Sean peering at me from the shadows—wasn’t close enough to realize this was hardly the date I’d claimed I had scheduled.

  Chapter 16

  It took some doing to convince James that I’d used him. I didn’t tell him specifically why, only that I wanted some guy to see me leave with a man. At first, James didn’t believe I was rejecting him, but he finally got the message. He didn’t act broken up about it. In fact, he was sympathetic that I might have a stalker after me. He offered his protection if I ran into an obsessive fan problem in the future. James was not someone I wanted for a lover ever again, but he wasn’t total scum, either.

  Diana was still up and waiting for me when the cab dropped me off. We had a nightcap—plain water for me—and I filled her in on the drama of the evening, both the whole thing with Daylia Fedora and Sean showing up in a front row seat. I told her all the details, including how I’d lied to Sean about having a date with some other guy.

  “Wow,” Diana said. “That’s hitting two of your hot-button issues at once. It’s about time you stood up to other people professionally. And not caving when your man tried to get round you and back into your good graces is huge.”

  “He’s not my man.”

  “Oh, yes he is. You simply haven’t settled on terms yet.”

  Her words took me aback. What did she see that I was missing? I’d thought I was being all strong and everything by not talking to Sean. “How are you so sure?”

  Diana gave me a shrewd look. “You’re talking about him, that’s why. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t even mention him.”

  Could she be right? She’d been a practicing psychologist before she went into administration.

  “Wait a minute. Just because I mentioned Sean? I talked about threatening the manager too, but I’m not in love with him.”

  Diana smirked at me. “You said the word. Love. Don’t try to fool yourself. You’re hooked.”

  She applauded and agreed with me that I was smart not to let Sean have everything his way. Smart, yes, but it hurt to be without him when maybe I could have been with him, somehow. No matter how sensibly I talked to myself a
bout the love and commitment I deserved, irrational old patterns kept telling me to give in, allow Sean to dictate our relationship, and hope for the love he’d never said a word about.

  We switched to talking about the future, about having a baby someday, and my fears that I couldn’t handle a child and a demanding international opera career.

  “You’d arrange a support system. People do it all the time.”

  “If I could find the right father for those children.”

  “Even if it didn’t work out with the father. You’d find some way to be happy and to be a good mother and to have a home and a family.”

  “I guess I could,” I said, looking at the water I swirled in my glass. Diana’s confidence in me was stronger than my own.

  “Of course you can. You’ve shown you can do just about anything. You’ve thrown off the bad men, you’ve confronted people who try to put you down. You’ve lost weight sensibly, and you’re still on track despite being under great stress because you’ve fallen in love.”

  Had I? Fallen in love? Was that what this was? I knew it was love, but falling in love? “Isn’t love supposed to be light and happy and easy?”

  “Not for everybody.”

  ***

  Early Sunday morning, I used Diana’s computer to send Claudio a lengthy email—unusual for me to bother with email, so I texted him first to warn him to look for it—detailing what had happened at the concert. I wanted him to threaten the concert management, and go ahead and demand a full reimbursement for the gown. As to the rest, Claudio was very well connected, and he’d spread the word that the management at the Federal preferred to blame others for Daylia Fedora’s egregious carryings on. Adrian Carter would find it a lot more difficult in future to persuade top talent to visit his venue. I had to keep reminding myself that I was top talent and I deserved to be treated well. So did other singers.

  I spent Sunday enjoying Washington with Diana, going to various Smithsonian buildings and later having a splendid lunch at one of DC’s upscale new dining experiences. I tried not to think about Sean, but the truth was, I regretted telling him I would be busy all day. I wanted to be with him. Diana was no help because she kept telling me I was in love with Sean.

  “You might as well admit it,” Diana said, as we left the trendy Marine Barracks neighborhood for the more staid Capitol Hill and the Folger Shakespeare Library.

  “What good is it to be in love with a man who can’t be serious?”

  “Maybe he’s waiting for you to tell him what you want.”

  “I have.”

  “No, you showed him what the sex could be like. You have to tell him what kind of relationship you want.”

  “You’re kidding. Always, it’s the men who lay down the rules. ‘No, this was just sex.’ ‘No, don’t call me.’ ‘No, I’ll text you when it’s convenient for me.’”

  Diana shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be that way. If your Sean truly does care for you, he’ll listen when you tell him what you need.”

  We debated through the intermissions at the Shakespeare Theatre, which ironically was playing Love’s Labours Lost.

  Afterward, I collected my stuff, and Diana insisted on going with me to Union Station since I had that big dress to carry on the train back to Baltimore. While on the train, I received a text from Claudio to call him.

  He was excited. “I got you a feature in the New York Times.”

  “Fantastic!”

  “The reporter will be in Baltimore tomorrow for the dress rehearsal. You’ll do a photo shoot just for the Times afterward. This is your big moment. They may run it the morning after you open. Or better yet, as a major piece in the Sunday paper. Be sure to mention that your next American gig is in New York. We want to push those tickets.”

  Claudio also consoled me about the Daylia mess, while scolding me. “You should have told me what happened at the Aida. I would never have booked you to the DC concert had I known.”

  “I’m working on advocating for myself. On speaking out when people try to push me around.”

  “Good girl. Keep at it.” He warned me to be tactful if the Times reporter asked about Daylia Fedora. “He might be sniffing around for a controversy. Don’t mention the rotten stuff she pulled in Aida, either. If that’s the story he’s really after, he can get it from James Haverhill.”

  Claudio had a shrewd understanding of people. I intended to follow his advice. For once.

  As I maneuvered my heavy garment bag with the gown and my rolling suitcase to leave the train at Baltimore’s Penn Station, the weight was taken out of my hands. Sean grabbed the travel case, too. “We have to talk.”

  Chapter 17

  His hair looked like he’d been combing it backward with a rake, and his clothes, the usual t-shirt and jeans, appeared slept in and wrinkled.

  “I can’t wait until tomorrow after the rehearsal,” Sean said. “I’ll go mad.”

  “You’re being overly dramatic.” My words were deliberately cold, hoping to forestall a scene that would once again tempt me to let him walk all over my emotions.

  “Not here,” he muttered, as we walked through the busy waiting room. On a Sunday evening it was thronged with travelers.

  “Why don’t you just go on your next date with an ingénue and leave me alone?” I said in a nasty tone of voice.

  “Because you’re the one I want.”

  I stopped walking. Sean had dropped all teasing from his expression. His eyes burned with desire.

  “Don’t mess with me,” I said. “I’m not your next convenient hookup.”

  He winced. “That’s not what I mean.”

  I softened my tone. “But it’s all we have, don’t you see? A week from today, we’ll be traveling in different directions, toward destinies that might only throw us together once a year. Is that what you want? A ‘same time next year?’ style friendship with benefits? Because I don’t.”

  Sean seemed to search for words but came up empty. He wasn’t so glib when it came to discussing serious intentions and real relationships. I didn’t hate him for it, but still, I couldn’t give in.

  I said, “Let’s keep to the friendzone. Friendship isn’t stressful.”

  “Friends, but no sex?”

  “No sex.” I shrugged. “I can’t do it anymore.”

  “I can.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  Seeing my unamused reaction, he quickly banished his levity. “I don’t want to be in the friendzone anymore. I want us to be lovers. Full out, the real deal.”

  My heart started to thud so hard he should have heard it. I fought my instant elation.

  “Nearly two weeks ago, you said exactly the opposite. You said you only wanted a friend. You shut me down.”

  He bent an intense look on me. “I need to tell you about that. But not here. Give me a chance. Let’s dump your luggage and go for a walk along the Inner Harbor.”

  Not the worst idea. We’d be in public, where the urge to get physical could be reined in. I let him steer me outside to a cab he had waiting. He stowed my things and climbed in after me.

  Only the sound of the driver’s radio station penetrated the silence between Sean and me as the cab ascended Baltimore’s hills and took us to my temporary condo. I sat way over on my side, so he couldn’t try anything physical. If he wanted a confrontation, I refused to let us get sidetracked by sexual attraction. He wanted to talk, he said. So we’d talk.

  Sean told the driver to wait, and we quickly put my luggage in my condo. Then we went back to the taxi and let him take us to Baltimore’s big tourist spot, the Inner Harbor. We began our hike of the curved waterfront pedestrian promenade at the science center end. We walked slowly, not touching, but close to each other.

  As Sean said nothing, I spoke. “You wanted to talk. Say what’s on your mind.”

  “You are, Abbie. I think about you night and day. I can’t sleep for thinking about you. This has never happened to me before. Never.” His eyes were hot with open passion.

  “
It’s the sex,” I said flatly.

  “I’ve had sex before,” he said. “Although nothing like what you did to me the other night. I admit it, Abbie. I’m a piker compared to you. You can teach me so much, if only you’d take me seriously and let me in.”

  I sighed. “The sex is the easiest part, Sean. I want to change how I approach relationships in the future.”

  “You’re a goddess. Of course men want you.” His eyes blatantly admired me.

  I snorted, ignoring how my body reacted to his appreciative stare. “Right. You still don’t get it. Let me tell you who I am. No pretense. No games.”

  “Please, Abbie. Tell me.”

  “I’ll start where it ended, with my near-death experience. That’s what I call the combination of a bad career move gone sour, a bad romance gone even sourer, and a food binge to end all food binges.”

  I leaned on a post that fenced the pedestrian walkway from the water. “My affair with Mr. Wonderful was all about what a big shot he was.” I grimaced. “It was never clear why his business was constantly having troubles. He often asked me to loan him money.”

  Sean made a noise. I nodded. “I have a great capacity for fooling myself. I overlooked all the warning signs. I gave him money. Even so, nothing I did for him was enough to please him. That made me so desperate and needy, I made a very poor career move.”

  We continued along the promenade, watching tourists stream by. “I signed on to sing a role I wasn’t suited to in the slightest, at an opera house notorious for the hostility of its dedicated audience. La Scala. To say I crashed and burned is to understate how badly I performed there. I knew I wasn’t ready. My agent warned me against it. But the offer came and I needed to build myself up in my own mind, because Mr. Wonderful was always saying and doing things that tore me down.”