Nocturne(90)

“Come on, Dad, I’m an adult. This is my life, too.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s so complicated.”

I chuckled half-heartedly, “Clearly. Did you know about him the whole time?”

My mother never admitted to a seven-year affair with Malcolm, but it was obvious. Given she was working in Italy and he was working in Boston, I gathered whatever relationship they had up until she moved back to the States was largely emotional.

“Malcolm was always a good friend to your mother. To the family. They have a lot in common and live in the same world.”

“Yeah,” I snapped, “a world you left for her.” I felt my cheeks heating thinking about the career my dad walked away from to support hers.

“I didn’t leave it for her, Savannah … it was for you.”

“What?” Tears stung my eyes.

“It was for us. For our family. You mattered more to me than to try to raise you on the road. One of us had to make the choice. She was further in her career than I was. Making her give it all up wasn’t something I could do.”

“But you both chose to have a family. Why did you have to give it all up?”

“That’s life, Savannah …” There seemed to be something he wasn’t telling me in that silence.

“Has it always been him?” I was whispering, disbelieving I was asking my dad something so personal.

“Your mother and I had a challenging relationship, Savannah. We wanted children together, but you came a little earlier than planned. That called for us to make some tough choices. It brought things out in us that … look, your mother is a good mother.”

He didn’t want to throw her under the bus, but it was clear that what went on—was now going on—between my mother and Malcolm was no secret.

“But you and Mom were married …”

“I don’t have anything I can say to make this easier to understand. But, I do want to tell you something.” His tone darkened to the stern set of notes he used when discussing drugs with me in high school. “Don’t make things harder on yourself than they need to be. Love shouldn’t be a fight, Savannah. It shouldn’t be hard. It shouldn’t tear people apart and leave everyone broken. If someone loves you, they give you all of themselves, not just parts. Do you hear me?”

My lips parted, startled by my father’s bleeding honesty. “Yeah,” I gasped, “I hear you. I have to go, okay? It’s late.”

“I love you. Check in again soon, okay? Even if it’s 3:00 a.m.”

“I will. Love you, Dad.”

I didn’t know before if my dad saw what my mom saw when watching my performance with Gregory, but that cleared it up. Of course he saw. He was wrong about one thing, though. You fight for what you love. Who you love. Giving up on Gregory six years ago left me empty. I had a chance to make that right, if even for a summer.

Spending a few weeks capturing what most people spend a lifetime searching for had to be better than nothing at all. Maybe Gregory and I had to grab whatever happiness was dangling in front of us. It was our window, and it was closing in a few weeks. I didn’t know if it would ever open again. I didn’t know what was going on in his marriage, and I didn’t know what went on in my parents’ marriage. All I knew was Gregory Fitzgerald was the only one who made me feel this way, and if this was the only chance we had to fully experience each other … I had to take it.

Even if it would break me in the end.





Gregory


Nathan vacated our sleeping quarters early. The train arrived in Denver at 7:00 a.m., and he banged around the tiny cabin like a grumpy teenager before finally leaving. Frankly, I was relieved to have avoided a physical confrontation with him last night. I knew he cared deeply for Savannah, and despite the rage that bled from his pores, I felt less retaliatory and more ashamed of myself for hurting her.

Hurting her wasn’t my intention. None of this was. I stepped out of the shower in my mid-grade hotel room and ran my hands through my hair, thankful my hangover was subsiding. When I’d started drinking in the lounge car, I didn’t expect to leave there asking the woman I loved to engage in a relationship with me for the remainder of our tour.

I didn’t regret asking her. If that was the only way I’d ever have happiness, then so be it. What bothered me was ... I’d put her in a position where she had to make the decision. It was that I’d put my desires and needs onto her. The way her eyes widened as she swallowed when I asked. She went silent.

She’s rarely silent.

She sat stoically and listened to my slurred reasoning. I meant every word. We needed to seize this time. We’d been given an opportunity to be together, even for a short time. It would be risky, and a lot of people could get hurt.

I didn’t want her to get hurt. That was my bottom line. I would sacrifice just about anything to never again see the look she had on her face before bailing from the cab and walking down the busy road in Lincoln. Away from me.

It was approaching noon and I was anxious. I hadn’t seen or heard from Savannah since our talk. It occurred to me that watching her stand and nimbly leave our table could have been the last time I saw her in any context other than the stage. I had to tell her, though. I had to tell her my feelings. My desires. I had nothing to lose, but her to gain.