Nocturne(47)

That meant less time to talk, though. Or to have much of a life at all. I knew he was practicing extra hard to make an impression and really “earn his keep,” but it still had me wondering if the professional performance life was for me. At least at a major symphony like that. I hadn’t talked about it with anyone—my thoughts about doing something other than playing for a symphony once I graduated—because no one asked. As I excelled further and further in my skill at the flute, it seemed to be assumed by everyone—myself included—that this would be my life. Playing. Going as far as possible and staying there until I couldn’t do it anymore. Following in my mother’s footsteps. And my father’s, at least until he chose me over the orchestra pit.

I didn’t know if I wanted to have an either/or life. Was that my only choice? Looking around at all the people I admired most, it seemed that was surely the case. My parents did the best they could with a compromise situation, but that resulted in some combination of us feeling lonely at one time or another. My mother asked me to Italy whenever she had the chance, and it got harder to go the older I got. And, while James and Madeline seemed to be engaging in some heavy-duty flirting—though I was too shy to ask her about it—they worked in the same place and played for the same orchestra. That could be easy for them. Not many people are lucky enough to find someone at work. Then, there was Gregory. Married to his craft. His only friends were Madeline and James, that I knew of. I hadn’t seen much of that woman from the campus offices—Karin, I think her name was—since the night I saw them out dancing. I often teased him internally for being broody and dramatic, but I had no idea if he was lonely.

“Savannah?” Nathan interrupted my internal ramble.

“Yeah?”

“I said, are you okay? Your voice seems … off.”

“I don’t know if I want to do this.” My heartbeat nearly tripled, as I was about to admit what had been swirling in my brain for over a year.

“Do what? What are you talking about?”

I took a huge breath, nearly sighing my answer. “I don’t know if I want to play professionally. I don’t … I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Savannah …” His voice was agitated, anxious as he spoke my name, but he clipped off the rest of the sentence and let out a frustrated breath. “Is this about your—”

“Yes,” I cut him off, “it is. It’s about my mom. It’s about her and the fact that she and my dad had to live an ocean apart because she couldn’t have the kind of life with the opera here that she could over there. It’s about the last few weeks here at the Institute. I’ve loved teaching. I’ve loved nurturing young talent; preparing them for a life of their choosing. Should they have a choice …” My throat closed as I considered the implications of what I was saying.

Nathan was quiet for a few seconds and then started speaking in an uncharacteristically even tone. “You have a choice.”

“Do I? At the end of last week I played that Assobio piece with Gregory—”

“It’s Gregory now?” Nathan sounded annoyed.

“They’ve all insisted I call them by their first names, since I’m technically a colleague. Anyway, we played that piece together during the instructor ensemble time, and …”

“And what?”

My words came out as a whisper. “It was the single most moving experience while playing that I’ve ever had in my entire life. It swallowed me. We’ve never played together, and it was … perfect. We didn’t stop or stall or trip up. Not once.”

“I’m … confused. What does that have to do with you not wanting to be a performing musician?”

“It took only a second and I got it. I was consumed by the song, the notes, the scene. It was like a drug that was instantly addicting. I’ve always loved performing and playing, you know that. But, in that moment, playing with a world-class musician and playing a song I’ve spent months working on … I wanted that and absolutely nothing else. And, it scared me.”

“Look, Savannah,” Nathan sighed again, and I could picture him raking his long fingers through his disorganized curls, “I know that you’ve struggled off and on with performing as a career. You’ve never said it, but we’ve talked enough about your family life for me to … get it. But, I don’t think what happened with Gregory scared you about playing professionally.”

“What was it then?”

Nathan’s tone turned dark, and I could tell he was speaking through clenched teeth, though he didn’t sound angry. He repeated the same words from our earlier argument. His words that made no sense, but made too much sense. “You’re in love with him, Savannah.”

I thought back to standing next to Gregory as we played, and one by one the faculty disappeared from my view until all I saw was him and the notes. And all I heard was the beating of my heart.

“I know,” I whispered, covering my mouth to silence the clamor of my tears.

I knew.

I was in love with him.

And it was a horrible mistake.





Savannah


Take a deep breath, Savannah. It’s just a bar.

Smoothing down the front of my favorite red dress, I knew damn well it wasn’t just a bar. I’d made it through the second week of orchestra camp at the Tanglewood Institute, and the staff was gathering at Magnolia’s for end of the summer drinks and dancing. He was going to be there.