Nocturne(113)

“I’m serious. I knew that you realized something was going on, and I should have either been totally honest with you, or kept it a complete secret. The limbo I put you in was an unfair position. I was so excited to spend the summer with you and … I blew it.”

He shrugged and smiled, wiping the last tear from my cheek. “You were in love, Savannah. It happens.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up as I looked to the floor, my actions of this summer flashing through my head.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable, Savannah. I’ve known you a long time. I caught onto the look in your eyes after a few days.”

I furrowed my brow. “So, why are you so pissed at Gregory?”

“Because he led you on. Let you fall in love with him when he wasn’t able to give it back. You deserve all of someone, Savannah. Not what’s left over after they’ve dealt with the rest of their life.” Nathan’s hazel eyes faded a little and my chin quivered.

“I really do love him, Nathan.”

He put his arm around me again, pulling me so my head rested on his shoulder. “I know you do. None of the rest of us ever stood a chance as soon as he showed up.” He let out a tired laugh.

“So now what the hell do I do?”

“You sure you don’t want to consider Chicago?” he asked with weak hope.

“I’m sure. I love you, but it’s never been my city.”

“Well,” he sighed, “in that case … you go back to Moscow. Learn Russian or whatever the hell it is you do in your spare time, and you play. You’ve been so happy the last year with the ballet.”

“I hate that it’s so far away from you, though.”

“I’ll come visit. Christine wants to come, too.”

“Oh Christ, doesn’t she think I’m a complete whore?” I sank my forehead into my hands.

Nathan grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face him, a look of fight in his eyes. “No. No one thinks that, Savannah. And f*ck them if they do. That’s not what you are. Don’t ever talk about yourself that way. Jesus, I hate that he made you feel that way.”

“He didn’t make me feel that way. I did. I slept with a married man.” I thought, maybe, the more times I said it, the less it would hurt that I was leaving him behind. And my heart. It didn’t work.

“Well,” Nathan snorted, “if he didn’t intend for you to feel that way then I guess he shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

“Don’t hunt him down and beat him up or anything crazy like that.” The grip Nathan had on my shoulders had me worried about his plans for the rest of the day.

“Hardly. I go back to Chicago in two days and plan to spend exactly none of them in jail.”

I checked the time on my cell phone and let out a defeated sigh. Time, and timing, hadn’t been on my side for years.

Nathan stood and held out his hand. “I’ll walk you as far as I can.”

Nathan and I walked through the airport, and he told me that he and Christine would be shopping for an apartment together as soon as they returned to Chicago. I was happy for them and the effortless dreams most couples take for granted. It ached when I tried to let myself go to a place in my head where Gregory and I were living together, practicing together … loving together. So, I pushed those thoughts out of my head and focused on my friend and his happiness.

Thankfully, the security line wasn’t long so I wasn’t likely to miss my flight, but that meant Nathan and I had to say our goodbyes immediately.

“I’ll miss you, Nathan. I loved spending time with you this summer. I wish it could have been more …”

“No regrets, okay? We all grew up a little, I think. Be happy, Savannah. Find someone who takes your breath away and supports you and nurtures you.”

“I did.” I could barely get the words out without more tears. But I managed.

“You know what I mean.” Nathan sighed and shagged a hand through his hair.

“Please tell Marcia that I’ll call her as soon as I get settled in.”

“Love you,” Nathan said, swallowing me into his long arms for a sad hug.

After several seconds I pulled back and held Nathan at arms’ length. “Love you, too. Now, go back to Marcia’s, get Christine, and go be happy.”

Nathan shot me a sad smile as I turned and made my way through the maze to the belt, praying my luggage would end up where it was supposed to, since all I had on me was my flute and my cell phone. Once I was settled into a chair by my gate, I texted my father. I know I should have called him, but his silence last night told me that he hadn’t spoken with my mother. I was too tired to get into it at the moment and told him I had a change of flight plans and I’d call him when I got settled back into my apartment in Moscow.

A couple of hours later I was finally boarding my final flight to Moscow from JFK. The layover wasn’t a bad as I thought it’d be. I busied myself reading over some new music for the upcoming season that had been FedExed to me while I was on tour.

As we taxied away from the gate, I leaned my head against the window and exhaled long and slow.

“Nervous?” a woman in her fifties sitting next to me asked.

“No. Just … tired.”

“You look sad.” Her thick Russian accent sent a wave of emotions through me. It sounded like home, the new home I was returning to. But … it reminded me how far away I was going. As I wiped a tear away she took my hand. “I saw you looking at music. Do you play over there?”