RUSH (City Lights, #3)(98)
I went back to the empty townhouse that felt even emptier without Noah. In the morning I’d have to call Lucien and make my resignation as Noah’s assistant official. It was terribly short notice: Sabina wanted to start rehearsals in Vienna next week. I’d be gone until September at least, maybe longer if the VTO decided to keep me. Sabina said they had a sister orchestra permanently housed in Vienna. The way she mentioned it, it was clear that if I were successful with the tour, the choice would be mine.
I thought I’d call my parents in the morning too, but with the time difference, it wasn’t even ten o’clock there. The house felt too empty and quiet without Noah. I needed to hear another voice, and my parents probably needed some good news.
My father picked up after two rings. “Charlotte? It’s late where you are. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Dad,” I said, wincing. “I’m sorry to worry you. How are you? How’s Mom?”
My father eased a sigh. “She’s good, actually. Better. She had a headache and went to bed early, but I’m happy to say that’s as bad as she’s been lately. She’s even able to go back to work.”
I closed my eyes “Oh, I’m so happy to hear that.”
“And how are you, sweetie? How’s your job working out?”
“Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling.”
I told him about my audition, and how I’d be moving to Vienna within a week. I had to assure him that the VTO was a solid company and that I’d be safe with them, so many miles away. I was nearly twenty-three years old but distance seems to take years off a child in the eyes of a parent.
He whistled low. “I’m so proud of you. I’m a little sad you’ll be another few time zones over, but mostly I’m proud of you. And I know your mother will be too.”
“Will you come and see me? We’ll be touring all over Europe. You pick a city and I’ll see about arrangements.”
“Of course, honey. Wouldn’t miss it. But what about your current position? Won’t they miss you too?”
I cleared my throat. “They’re very understanding.”
“Okay, love, you sound tired,” my father said. “You’ve had an exciting day. Get some rest and call us before you leave. I know your mom will have a million questions.”
“I will,” I said, and felt tears well up in my eyes. I felt like I’d spent the entire day saying goodbye; suddenly my dad seemed so far away. “I love you.”
“I love you, Charlotte. I’m happy for you. And I know that Chris would be too.”
My vision blurred in earnest. It was the first time my father had spoken of Chris without sounding as if he were breaking apart on the inside.
We’re all finding a way to move on, I thought after we’d hung up. And moving on, I realized, wasn’t the same as forgetting or even letting go. It was making a tentative peace with tragedy, and doing the best we could forever after.
*
The next morning I called Lucien and tendered my resignation, and the entire time I spoke to him, I strained to hear Noah’s voice in the background. More than once I had to hold myself back from asking Lucien to put him on.
But I couldn’t hang up without knowing.
“Lucien?”
“Yes, ma chere?”
“Is he okay? Can you at least tell me that?”
“He’s fine, my darling girl,” Lucien replied, his voice thick.
“Okay,” I said, my own voice drowning in tears. “I just wanted to make sure. Tell him…” I swallowed hard. “Tell him I’ll wait. I will.”
I hung up, in a kind of numb shock. I left for Vienna in four days. Was I not going to see or talk to him before I left? It was unthinkable, but maybe this was what he wanted. That he meant what he said about keeping away from me until he could let his old life go and move on.
I spent the day packing, making preparations, and around nine o’clock I crawled into my bed on the first floor, thinking back over my audition the day before. I’d spent the last week in a fever pitch, absorbed with finding a replacement violin and then practicing until all hours for the audition. Now, I felt acutely alone in the house, and missing Noah with every fiber of my being. I tossed and turned in a fruitless attempt at sleep, and finally couldn’t stand it anymore. I went upstairs to his bedroom.
Lola had been in last week; his room was clean, his bed made. I climbed into the bed and snuggled down under his sheets, into his pillow. It still smelled of him and I inhaled deeply, clung to his pillow as if it were him and fell asleep immediately.
*
The next three days were spent with more packing and saying goodbye to old friends. Melanie and Regina threw a going-away party for me the Friday before. My Juilliard friends were there, and Anthony, and Samneric, and I began to miss them even before the night was over, Melanie and Anthony most of all.
“I’m not leaving forever,” I reminded everyone, including myself. “I’ll be back in September.”
“You know how these things go,” Melanie said. “Doors are going to open and they might not all lead back to NYC.” She hugged me tight. “Go where it takes you and enjoy the hell out of it, okay?”
I left the party and walked to the subway station, taking it all in for the last time, this city that had been my home for five years. A glittering symphony of sound and light, steel and concrete, and teeming humanity, each person connected to the rest by the electric hum that couldn’t be felt anywhere else on earth.