Nocturne(85)

My mother cleared her throat. “Yes, it was quite fortuitous, but it complicates matters.”

Once again I found myself shaking my head in my still empty hotel room, a nonverbal indication that the vodka in my hand was much stronger than the bottle promised, or maybe that my mother was speaking another language.

Maybe it was both.

“Mother, what’s complicated?”

“I wanted to make sure I spoke with you tonight, before the Opera News story runs tomorrow.” By the tone of her voice, which was quickly fading, I knew the news wasn’t going to be about my mother’s return to the stage.

I cleared my throat. “What is it, Mom?”

“The story tomorrow is going to say that Malcolm was growing restless with the Ballet and was looking to move on, dying to work in the opera.” She spoke as if she were reading from a novel. The dramatic rise and fall of her voice had me picturing her on stage somewhere. “They’re saying that once I landed the role of Hermia, I used my pull to get him the job currently filled by alternating conductors since Don Kimmel left the position last year.”

“From what I recall, you’re no stranger to tossing your name around as it suits those around you. What’s the big deal now? You say everyone does it.”

Talking about her attempt to sway the admissions committee in my favor at the conservatory got easier over the past few years.

Despite the fact I knew I got in on my own skill, doubt lingered. It always does.

“For one thing, young lady, that’s not what I did.” Her tone was clipped and defensive.

Growing tired of the conversation, I sighed heavily. “What’s the point here, Mom?”

“The point is that the photo they’re running with the story is one of Malcolm and I kissing in Venice.”

I’d assumed she’d move on from my father at some point. But under a year seemed a bit hasty.

Trying to sound like an unwounded child, I pressed for more. “When did you and Malcolm go to Venice?”

Her long silence suddenly made it very clear it wasn’t a recent excursion.

“Mom …” My heart raced, embarrassingly unprepared for what was coming.

“Coccolona …” she sighed, trailing off as her voice caught.

Cuddly one.

My mother hadn’t called me that in years. Years. We hardly spoke Italian on a regular basis anymore. She only slipped into Italian terms of endearment under times of great stress, like when my grandmother passed away.

She cleared her throat. “Seven years ago.”

“Seven years ago?” I ran a hand through my hair just as there was a knock on the door.

Now? Really?

“Savannah, let me explain …” My mother’s voice was uncharacteristically frazzled.

Opening the door, I found Nathan. He looked happy to see me, until he studied my face for a second. He quickly ushered himself into the room, shutting the door behind him. I mouthed to him that I was on the phone with my mother. He knew all the gritty details of my parents’ falling out. He patiently waited, crossing his arms in front of his chest and leaning against the wall.

“I wish you would, because I’m dying to hear about how a seven-year affair is blowing up in your face as we speak.”

Nathan’s eyes widened.

The irony of the conversation brought me to my knees and I rested my back against the side of the bed. Nathan sat next to me, resting his arms on his knees.

“Get ahold of yourself, Savannah. Malcolm and I haven’t been having an affair for seven years.”

“You’re lying. Are you two together now?” I stood, fuming with rage over what she’d done to my father.

“My private life, Savannah, is not any of your business. What you need to know is that Malcolm and I never had a relationship while your father and I were together. That’s all I wanted you to know. Besides,” she continued, rather distantly, “you know what it’s like.”

“I’m sorry, I know what what’s like?” I couldn’t even address her assertion that I should be happy about anything that was going on.

“Not being able to stop yourself from loving someone.”

“I …” I trailed off, knowing full well what she was talking about, but unable to defend myself now that I had an audience. What I didn’t know, however, was how she knew.

“I saw the performance, Savannah. Tread carefully. Whenever it happens it will be a mess, and I don’t want it jeopardizing your career.”

Hastily, I ended the call and turned off my phone. In a few short minutes my mom admitted to being in love with someone other than my father, all the while skirting the discussion of a possible seven-year affair and not appearing to give a shit about my feelings. Only my career.

Seven years.

Intermittently on the flight from LA to Lincoln, I considered what it would look like to try to be with Gregory, despite his marriage. Now knowing how that looked from the outside, I brought my hand to my mouth, stifling a sob. Nathan grabbed me into a hug in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, stepping back and holding me at arms’ length.

Wiping tears from my eyes, I shrugged in defeat.

I had to tell him. I had to tell someone, and I was in no condition to call Marcia back.

“Nathan … I made a horrible mistake.”