Nocturne(86)

Gregory


I finished strapping in the cello, then lay down on the lower bunk and glanced at my watch. It was just past midnight, and the Amtrak California Zephyr would roll into Denver at 7 a.m. I sighed, staring up at the bunk above me. I didn’t care for sleeper cars unless they were solo, and this one I cared for even less, because I would be sharing the car with Nathan Connors, who I really didn’t want to see at the moment. I needed to have a talk with the production assistant who made the travel arrangements, because this was not acceptable. God knew Savannah had probably spoken with him, so I would be getting an earful of self-righteous yammering from a boy barely out of his teens.

Savannah and I had performed the duet together at the Pershing Center in Lincoln.

Despite our argument, despite her charging off by herself, she’d shown up for the performance on time, got up on the stage, and brought magic into that auditorium. Music that took my breath away. Not once during the four and a half minutes of our duet did her eyes leave mine. Until the end, when she turned away from me dismissively and bowed to the wildly applauding audience. Then she swept off the stage like a queen, leaving me to clumsily lumber behind her with my cello.

With a small lurch, the train moved forward, the car rocking back and forth, the thumping slowly accelerating as we pulled out of the city. My phone rang. Probably Karin again. I shook my head and took out the phone and wrinkled my eyebrows in surprise. It wasn’t Karin: the call was coming from Madeline.

“Hello?”

“Gregory, I’m not waking you am I?”

“No ... actually, we just boarded the train in Lincoln.”

“Good.” She went silent.

I sat, waiting for her to speak, but she didn’t, which was hardly normal, not to mention extremely uncomfortable.

Finally I said, “I trust your honeymoon went well? Is everything all right?”

She let out a small chuckle. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry ... everything’s fine. Actually ... I was calling for two reasons. We didn’t get a chance to talk before you left Boston, and I wanted to thank you for watching the flat. James and I really appreciated it.”

“Of course, Madeline, after all, what are friends for?”

She let out a low chuckle, and said, “Well, that’s what I’m calling about, now, isn’t it?”

I stretched a little in the bunk. “Are you drinking? What time is it there?”

“I am, Gregory.”

My reply was a little impatient. “What’s going on, Madeline?”

She sighed. “I just got home from a particularly maudlin evening out. With your wife.”

That caused me to sit up. And hit my head on the upper bunk. I cursed and dropped the phone, which I heard bouncing against the carpet to who knew where while I fumbled around in the darkness.

A sudden flash and horn racing by, then receding into the distance, marked a train going in the opposite direction. For a few moments our train was buffeted by wind and turbulence from the other one, and then it was gone.

I got on my knees and searched around until I found my phone. It was underneath the bed. Groaning, I put it to my ear and leaned back against the bunk, still sitting on the floor. “Madeline, you there?”

“I’m still here, Gregory. Did you fall, or jump out the window or something?”

“Hit my head on the upper bunk. What did Karin have to say?”

Madeline responded in an aggravated tone. “She’s your wife.”

“I’m painfully aware of that.”

She sighed quite audibly. Then she said, “After your performance last night, she believes you’re sleeping with Savannah.”

I was silent. I couldn’t tell anyone. I was married. But I couldn’t lie either. Not to Madeline, who had been my friend for fifteen years, who had been Savannah’s mentor. I couldn’t lie. So I didn’t say anything. Which, unfortunately, told Madeline all she needed to know.

“You love her, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes and pressed my head against my knees.

“Gregory ... how did you do this to yourself? You, of all people.”

I just groaned. Then rode for a few more seconds, the silence punctuated by the sound of the rails clattering below. Then I said, “What did you say to Karin?”

“Well ... it was a long night. And ... she’s not having an easy time of it, Gregory. You know ... I knew from the beginning you didn’t love her. It really wasn’t fair that you married her. And now ... when she just found out she’s infertile? You’re my friend, and I love you, Gregory. I want the best for you. I want you to be happy. I want her to be happy. But your timing sucks. You’re breaking her heart.”

I leaned forward again, my mind focusing in on one single word in her monologue.

“She just found out what?”

Madeline didn’t answer.

“Madeline. What the f*ck did you just say? She just found out what?”

Her answer was so quiet I barely heard. “Gregory, she can’t have children.”

My thoughts exploded into a hundred different directions at once. If she couldn’t have children, then why the hell was she hounding me about having children? What the hell? For that matter, what prompted this revelation? It’s not as if we were trying to have children.