He did not disappoint me. I did my best not to disappoint him. The sounds he made when we were in bed convinced me I succeeded.
***
The next morning, at my session with Hannah Lochte, I told her how giddy I had been after the demon was banished. How light and happy I felt all the time now. She surprised me by being open-minded about the exorcism. Unlike Dex.
“My lover doesn’t believe the demon was real,” I said, “but I feel very different now. Lighter.”
Hannah appeared thoughtful. “Must you convince him there was a demon? Does it matter to each of us exactly what someone we care for believes about spiritual phenomena? It’s behavior that counts, surely? Even if you’re merely experiencing the placebo effect, the results are measurably positive, correct?”
“Absolutely positive. But I did have a weird experience with another singer.” I described the incident with James, including how my thoughts had mimicked how the demon had always presented.
“Sounds as if you have some bad habits to un-learn.”
“You think my behavior was merely a—a hangover from how the demon made me act?”
Hannah pointed out that many of the demonic incidents I had told her about involved violence. “You physically threatened or attacked people in each. But you only used words to attack this other singer, right? Don’t you think that puts tangling with him in a different light?”
Her analysis made perfect sense. “Yes, I agree. It also puts my upstaging other singers in a negative light. Shame on me.”
“But you are fully capable of controlling your behavior, correct?” she asked, challenging me.
“To attain the highest level of professionalism as a singer, indeed, to earn the respect of my colleagues, I have always maintained a tight leash on myself.” I said it proudly.
She smiled a little. “So you’ll add ‘thinking like a demon’ to your mental list of no-nos, then.”
I nodded. “I shall carefully monitor my impulses from now on. No more mean girl.” We talked more about the aftermath of the exorcism, and I agreed to let her share her notes on our session with Marcus O’Flaherty if he was interested.
“I think he might be,” Hannah said. “Exorcisms are very rare, as you know. The more he can learn about the outcome of this one, the better able he’ll be to judge the next petitioner’s need. He and I approach problem-solving differently, but we’re both about helping people heal. We merely use different tools.”
Actively listening to the therapist instead of stubbornly reciting my own list of demands, I could appreciate her calm wisdom. I made a mental note to perhaps contact Marcus myself.
I managed to squeeze in time to see Gayle next for a quick lunch at a café. I ordered broiled fish and vegetables instead of a salad, all the while hoping eating a full meal wouldn’t weigh down my voice later in the afternoon.
I thanked her again for service above and beyond during my exorcism and afterward. “I appreciated your support during the ritual. I needed trusted friends around me so I could feel safe enough to pray intensely and let whatever would occur go forward.”
“It was scary. You were praying so hard it was like you were in a trance. I swear that priest, Marcus O’Flaherty, the sexy young one, grew taller during the chants, too. And his shadow got longer, which shouldn’t have happened. Not in the morning. It was a weird scene. The old priest standing behind him actually stepped back from us all at one point. I think he was terrified.”
“Did you see the demon leave me?” My eyes had been closed, but I’d felt it happen.
“I think I may have,” Gayle hedged, which was uncharacteristic of her. “Something disturbed the air. Maybe a shadow of a shadow?” She shook her head. “More like a strong wind passing in only one spot. And who can see the wind?”
With that, I had to be satisfied. I already knew deep in my being that there had been a demon and it had left me, but it was good to get outside confirmation. Especially since Gayle had no particular religious belief that inclined her to either exaggerate what she’d seen or deny it.
I told her about Dex and me, circumspectly, of course. No details.
Gayle said, “Girl, you are so blushing. Forget trying to play it cool. You’re having it on with a billionaire who’s a rock star in the tech world. Now he’s a rock star in your bed. How awesome is that?”
My skin seldom showed much red, but Gayle knew me very well. My cheeks felt hot. I’d tried to give a dispassionate recital of events on Sunday, make it seem like no big deal.
She wasn’t buying. “He sounds wonderful. Think he’s the marrying kind?”
“He told me he’d been married once briefly. Youthful mistake.”
“If there’s any talk about a future, you should make sure he’s over it.”
I sighed. “He says he is. Couldn’t we enjoy the first flush of our relationship without all these complicating thoughts?”
“No way. If this will be a short-term fling, you need an exit strategy so it doesn’t blow up in your face the way the Michael Rather thing did. And if your relationship with Dex Morgan blossoms into something serious, you’ll have even more strategizing to do. Aren’t you booked up for the next five years like every other opera star?”
“You know I am.”
“Exactly. You’re not going to quit to get married the way women did a century ago. You’re at the pinnacle of your career, or on the way to an even bigger one, like Anna Netrebko or Jonas Kaufmann.”
I shook my head. “They’re superstars. A mezzo will never be in their league.”
“You told me about Dmitri Hvorostovsky. Star baritone. Why not a star mezzo?”
I laughed a little. “You should tell this to my agent. Perhaps he can arrange it.”
“Either way, any long-term personal relationship has to fit around your schedule of concerts and opera performances.”
I stared into my glass of iced tea, glum for a brief instant at the magnitude of how complicated my future could be. But only for an instant. “You’re forgetting that Dex can travel to be with me anywhere I am. Right now he’s busy because he’s winding down his connections to his old company and actively looking for new fields to conquer.”
“Does he have his own jet?”
“I guess. Don’t all billionaires?” My plate was empty. I’d had an appetite.
“Then you can join the mile-high club.”
I rolled my eyes. “For an attorney, you talk dirty a lot.”
She grinned. “It’s the low company I keep.”
We agreed to table any further dissection of my brand-new relationship.
***
Dex and I spent as much time together as possible, mostly at night because his days were heavily booked and mine were heating up as rehearsals got more complicated and involved the maestro and the orchestra. We did not talk about our relationship, or make any easy promises. We were still getting to know each other as lovers. We were carefree and happy together, and very passionate.
Rehearsals were almost over. The big dress rehearsal was scheduled for Friday afternoon. All week, I had been careful to eat something solid immediately before I reported to rehearsal, although it went against my long-held habits. To my surprise, my singing was not affected negatively. My attitude and my emotions were both calmer and more settled, and that showed in how happily I greeted Dex Thursday night. By mutual agreement, we’d been eating dinner in. I was too busy to cook, but there was plenty of gourmet food to be ordered and delivered. The intimate dinners sometimes got cut short as we rushed to the bedroom. Other times, we sat holding hands, slowly feeding each other and saying very little.
Late that night, we walked out onto my balcony and surveyed the city lights. We’d conjured up a few articles of clothing to wear, enough to be decent. Touching his skin was so electric I didn’t want to miss an opportunity. Dex had his arm around me, and everywhere our skin met, I tingled. I rested my head on his shoulder.
“Great view of a great city,” he said. “My ho
metown.”
“I love it,” I said. “That’s why I live here instead of New York, or Vienna, or any of the world capitals with much more opera.”
“You’re hitting your stride in your career, I’ve heard. That means more travel.”
“True, but DC is my home.”
He turned and stared down into my eyes. “How are we going to make this work? How can we be together enough?”
“Do we have to know that right now?”
“This is too big, too important.” He touched his lips to mine, briefly, and I fought not to pull his head down and deepen the kiss.
He said, “Don’t deny how important this is.”
“Can’t we live in the moment for a while?”
His arms tightened around me. “Tomorrow’s the dress rehearsal, and then you do only two weeks of performances, and then—”
“I’ll have a few days off before I leave town for my next engagement.” I broke away from him and went to the balcony railing where I looked at the river below. It was black and unknowable despite the many spotlights along the edge with their romantic aura. Did we have a future together? It was too soon to guess. Yet with typical male urgency, Dex wanted the details of our relationship nailed down.
I sighed. “A lot has happened to me recently. I’m seeing Hannah Lochte again tomorrow morning to work on coming to grips with who I think I am today.”
“And there’s the diabetes issue,” he said. “You were going to get a second opinion.”
I shook my head. “No, that is not true. You want me to see another doctor, but I have not agreed. I do not need to see one.”
He made an exasperated noise. “You’re back to speaking formally again, as if sounding emphatic and authoritative can deny the truth. Several people at the opera house told me about what happened between you and James. Which I already knew because I saw it myself, but clearly your behavior shocked them.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “You say the demon was exorcised. So what else could it be? I want to believe you’re a person who doesn’t stoop to mocking others, who doesn’t deliberately try to belittle coworkers.”
“I’m not.”
“But something is still wrong. If it’s not a medical issue, what is it?”
I balled my hands into fists. “That was Monday. I haven’t had an incident since. Maybe a few flare-ups, but they were minor. The demon showed me how to behave badly. It’s surprising how easy it is to be a bully. People are stunned, or intimidated, and they let you get away with outrageous things.”
“That’s empowering in the wrong way.” He frowned.
“I’m not saying it’s right. Anyway, behaving like that could kill my career. Mezzos can’t afford to be seen as difficult. There are too many of us around. Now that the demon is gone, I am actively tamping down on that negative aggressiveness. Discussing it with Hannah Lochte has been helpful. Maybe I’ll get an appointment with Marcus O’Flaherty, as well.”
He snorted. “Seeing that priest may make you feel better, but what if the root of your problems is unregulated diabetes? What if all you need to do is follow a sensible eating pattern and take one little pill once a day?”
I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t want to think about diabetes at all. The mere word made me want to shudder. “We’ve been together a few nights. That doesn’t give you the right to analyze my health or make my medical decisions for me.”
Clearly stung, he replied, “You were at such a low ebb earlier this week that you let me lead you to the cafeteria and order you to eat something. When you’re in good health, feeling good about yourself, you wouldn’t allow that. Proof.”
“Still, it’s my life. My call.”
“So I shouldn’t express concern for you? Is sex all we have?” he asked, showing frustration. “I know it’s not the money.”
I put a hand out, not touching him, but wanting to. Had my words hurt him? “Of course not. What we have is important to me, too.” I paced the balcony, my thin nightgown swishing around my legs. “I’ve been through a lot lately. Give my emotions time to catch up with my brain.”
He cocked his head. “That’s an interesting way of putting it.” He nodded. “Okay. We have some time. A couple of weeks. I’ll try not to push you.” He held out one hand and when I took it, he pulled me close. “I’m clearing Monday for your opening performance. You’ll wow the audience.”
I gave him an appreciative nod. “Thank you. I always do my best. DC has wonderful audiences.”
“What makes for a wonderful audience?”
“They’re polite, they don’t boo, and best of all, they don’t shout nasty things during the performance.” I nearly groaned. I’d experienced all those negatives, and more, in other cities.
“People boo?” Dex appeared shocked and amused at the same time.
“They do.” I frowned. “Especially in Milan at La Scala, where it’s practically a local pastime, but also at many other European opera houses.” I shifted a little, squirming deeper into his embrace. “People think singing in Europe is easy, because opera is still popular there. But those people don’t know about the booing. Especially on the opening night, it can be vicious.”
“American audiences don’t boo?”
I shook my head. “They don’t. In fact, they applaud almost everything we sing, whether it’s a logical moment to applaud or not.”
“Don’t tell me that irritates you.” He smiled at me.
“Actually, I find it endearing. American audiences are earnest.”
Dex tightened his embrace. “I hope you’ll find my ideas for what we should do next equally appealing.”
I allowed a sly smile to paint my expression. “Do your plans include a bed?”
He nodded, “Indeed, they do.” He picked me up in his arms.
I shrieked. “I’m too heavy! Put me down.”
“No way.” Dex hugged me tighter. “You’re light as a feather.” He carried me into my bedroom and deposited me on the bed, diving onto the mattress after me. He rolled over to face me. “Come into my arms, you sylphlike creature. Make me happy to be a man.”
Chapter 17
The next day I told Hannah Lochte everything that had happened since our last meeting, including how confused I was about my emotions.
She heard me out patiently, then responded. “Listen to your mind and body. Acknowledge your emotions. You’ve made some very big changes in your life all at once, and you’ve been told you should make another change. It all seems like a lot to process at once because it is. Your emotions need to catch up to these big changes. Even a simple thing like having a lover.”
Her words echoed what I had said to Dex last night.
“I haven’t been with a man for over two years. Now we’re in this intensely sexual relationship and he’s turned it very emotional, too. I didn’t expect a man to want more than my body.”
She smiled. “Men and women often think differently, but their human needs are the same. Insist on taking enough time to work through your emotions.” With an arch smile, she added, “The beginning of a relationship also is characterized by sleep deprivation. That means it’s harder for you to make sensible decisions during your day. Try to take naps. They’ll help. Also, frequent meals.”
At that I blew up. “Dex keeps nagging me to eat, eat, eat, and now you.” My voice rose. “What is it about me that makes you all want me to get fat?”
Hannah was unruffled. “It’s not the amount of food, it’s the choice and the timing. Let’s say you’re absolutely correct and you do not have diabetes. You still can be prey to low blood sugar causing you to feel more irritable than you would if you have more food in you. Simple changes, such as carrying a power bar and eating it, or taking fifteen minutes and having a nap, can make a big difference in how you feel about the problems of your day. I’ll give you the name of another doctor so you can get a second opinion.”
I subsided, but still was irritated, and it must have showed on my face.
She asked, “By the way, have you eaten anything yet today?” She raised an eyebrow.
Shamefaced, I realized I had not.
I had no time for a meal before the dress rehearsal. Traffic across town was more terrible than usual, and that was saying something for our nation’s capital. When I finally arrived at the Potomac Arts Center, the driveway to the staff entrance was blocked and the taxi had to dump me at the main entrance. As I raced through the main corridor, I thought I saw someone who could have been Michael Rather out of the corner of my eye, but I didn’t have time to pursue that idea. I practically ran to the backstage area and my dressing room. An assistant helped me into my costume as I ate the one little candy bar I’d found in my bag while I also put on my stage makeup.
I’d be fine. I’d sung on far less food in the past. Dex and Hannah were the ones who kept saying I should eat more. Whether I should or shouldn’t eat, I had no time to nip upstairs to the cafeteria for something more substantial right now.
I glanced at my score lying on a table. I was note perfect. I knew this opera very well. So did the majority of the opera audience, which may have been why the new production took many liberties with the staging. It was complicated and required significant rehearsal time to master. We still were working on that complex parade down the aisles between the orchestra seats.
I barely made it to the wing of the stage in time for the opening bars of music, thus earning a sour look from Régine. She’d made it clear to us yesterday that we all should be there at the start. I didn’t have to sing until eighteen minutes into the opera, but I must join the procession of cigarette factory girls as we moved through the auditorium and onto the stage. We were doing the final dress rehearsal today, with complete orchestra, chorus, and costumes. Plus a partial audience. The timing of our progression through the auditorium had to be perfected. The tech people wanted one more opportunity to make sure they had the correct lighting for us, and the maestro intended to make sure we kept pace with the music—or the music kept pace with us. Whether the music took precedence over the performers, or vice versa, depended on who was conducting.
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