Nocturne(36)

His face took became even more hostile. “What? Are you going to fail me if I don’t? Are you threatening me?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’ll get exactly the mediocre grade you’ve earned. However, if you don’t leave my office in the next five seconds, I’ll call security and let them deal with you. And I suggest you sober up, or start thinking straight for a change.”

For just a second ... just the barest second ... I actually thought he was going to hit me. His face went red, and his fists clenched as an angry crease formed down his forehead. Then he seemed to deflate, as if he’d been punctured. He stepped back and opened the door. Walked through. Then he looked back and said, “If you break her heart, I’ll do whatever it takes to tear you down.”

Then he walked away. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until he was out of sight.


My mind was thoroughly muddled. For the first time in my career, I was questioning everything. My motives, my actions, my very emotions. The only thing I didn’t question was the music.

What had she said to Nathan? What sort of discussion had they had? Did Nathan know that … we’d kissed?

I found myself urgently packing my few personal things in the office, then locked up and got out of there. Twenty minutes later I was home. My mind was still everywhere. Thinking about Savannah. Nathan. The strange, confusing year it had been. I needed to get inside; I needed to get to my cello and practice until the sweat rolled off me and my arms trembled. I needed to center myself, and that was the only thing in the world that could do it.

Unfortunately, as I walked up to the front door of my home, I discovered Karin sitting on the front step.

She was hunched over, her arms wrapped across her chest, staring off into space. Her eyes avoided me as I walked up to the house. I slowed my pace as I approached the house, distressed to find her there. I swallowed then drifted to a stop a few feet away from her.

“Karin,” I said.

She looked up at me then looked back down. Idly, her left hand played with a lock of her hair, twisting and untwisting it. “Tell me what’s happening, Gregory.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Abruptly she moved, tensing up. “Don’t be an idiot. You get in a fight with a student that half the school has been talking about, a shouting match. Students are spreading rumors that you’re sleeping with her, and at the same time you cancel our dates with text messages. I haven’t heard from you in two weeks.”

I grimaced. It seemed the entire world was intent on shoving Savannah in my face today. “We were arguing over a grade. And the rumors are ridiculous. I’d never touch a student.”

Except I had. She initiated the kiss. But I kissed back.

“Then why haven’t you called me? Why cancel our dates?”

“I’ve been busy, Karin. It’s been finals, in case you missed it.”

She rolled her eyes. And I froze in place. Because her eyes were glassy with tears.

“I thought we were going someplace, Gregory. But I’ve seen the way you look at that girl. I brushed it off the time we went dancing because, well, she’s stunning and everyone was looking at her. But the night of the opera … you have a sorry poker face.”

I looked away, grinding my teeth, working my jaw. Apparently my feelings about Savannah were obvious to everyone on earth. And that could pose a major problem. Above all, it was infuriating to have others examining anything about my life.

“I am perfectly capable of being concerned about a student’s education without being involved with them. I’ve told you this before. The last thing I need is ... distractions.”

She winced. “What are you saying? Am I a distraction?”

Hardly.

I rubbed my hand against my forehead. “Listen to me, please. I don’t know what you think is going on, or why anyone at the conservatory would wish to involve me in their grade-school rumors, but this ... all of this ... is unnecessary. I am what I am, Karin. I’m a musician first. My music will always come first.”

She shook her head. “Get your shit together, Gregory. Until then, I don’t want to hear from you.”

She stood and looked at me, making an effort to contain herself, but I could see she was on the verge of crying. I stood there like an idiot, not having the faintest clue what to say or do. What exactly did she want with me? To disavow a relationship that barely existed? To throw myself at her feet, or chase her down? To give up my commitment to the music? We’d dated off and on for several months now. Did she expect me to make some proclamation of love?

I just stood there. Helpless. She looked at me, then shook her head and walked away. I stayed in place, watching. Thinking. Then I unlocked my front door and walked in.

The Montagnana was in its case in the corner. The case was fireproof, expensive, intended to make the instrument armored, untouchable, pristine. I stared at it, feeling an unfamiliar hostility. This was the center of my life. The center of my being. I’d long since promised myself that I would let nothing interfere with that. Nothing.

But the instrument in its armored case seemed to be mocking me now. For the first time since I was twelve years old, I didn’t want to play.

And that’s why I must. Now.

Taking my time, I unlocked the case, unsnapped the latches one by one, and opened it. I stared at the instrument. Four hundred years old, the wood burnished, sometimes it seemed to glow. I unbuttoned my shirt and threw it haphazardly on the couch. It was a little bit chilly in the house, but my t-shirt would be too much once I’d been playing for a while. Then I reached out and took the cello out of its case, respectfully, carefully.