I knew she deserved better than me. I knew she needed more than I had to offer.
But I wanted her anyway.
So Joseph continued. Platitudes about our fantastic teamwork, how we’d done more to raise the profile of classical music in the United States, a parade of unnecessary and simple-minded bullshit which might have seemed inspiring to the twenty-four-year-old set but had passed its time with me.
As he continued I leaned close and whispered, “When can we talk?”
She glanced at me with hooded eyes and replied, “Your wife is here, Gregory. Call me some other time.”
I frowned. She was right. As Joseph poured on more thanks and praise to the group, I noticed that some of the VIPs from the front row were now back stage. James and Madeline stood awkwardly next to Vita Carulli. All three of them were staring … uncomfortably … gazes alternating between Joseph, Savannah, and myself. Karin stood a little bit apart from them in a yellow skirt suit and matching heels.
“She can wait.”
A stab of … sadness … sympathy … ran through me. Because Karin’s face was twisted, grief showing in her eyes. Savannah saw it too. Everyone in the entire orchestra saw it. And in that moment I felt as if we’d been transparent. As if everyone in the room had known all along what was going on, as my actions here and now declared that Savannah, not my wife, was who mattered to me. It was a bitter choice, knowing I was hurting her and going forward regardless.
And in that moment I knew I had no choice. Whatever happened, someone’s heart was getting broken. Probably more than one. Probably mine. But I did the calculation of hurting Karin, who had lied to me just as I’d lied to her, or hurting Savannah, who meant everything to me, and there was never any choice, was there?
“Gregory …” Savannah shook her head and took a step back.
My whisper was failing, but I tried again. “She can wait, Savannah. You … I need to talk to you. Now.”
Nathan, still standing next to her, audibly gasped. “You motherfucker,” he said. His face went red, and he approached me. “I’ve fucking had it with you.”
Joseph stopped pretending to give his speech and stared, shocked.
“Nathan, stop it!” Savannah said through clenched teeth.
At that, I saw Vita and Karin meet each other’s eyes. At this point I’d made a hash of everything. I’d destroyed whatever speech our conductor was going to give, I’d likely destroyed what was left of my marriage, and, unless I did something about it now, I’d probably wrecked whatever chance I had with Savannah.
I turned to Joseph and said, “Forgive me, Joseph. But it’s urgent I speak with Miss Marshall right now.”
Nathan puffed himself up angrily. “You aren’t talking with any—“
Without thinking, I balled my right hand up into a fist and hit Nathan Connors in the face.
Savannah and several others in the orchestra screamed as Nathan went flying back from me, stumbling over a music stand and landing on his ass, one hand suddenly cupping his nose.
I took half a step forward and Savannah shouted, “Gregory, stop!”
That’s when I felt the pain shooting through my right hand, and I cradled it against my chest. Half in a panic, because an injured hand could be a disaster for a musician. That thought ended quickly as Nathan let out a yell and charged me.
Two of the other musicians grabbed him.
“Motherfucker!” he shouted again, his face red from my fist. “Why can’t you just leave her alone? Every fucking stop on this tour you’ve been screwing her … and breaking her heart.”
Half the orchestra gasped, as if they didn’t know already, and I saw Karin’s face pale. Rage impelled me forward, but James grabbed my arms.
“Don’t!” he said. “You’ve already done too much.”
Everything went silent, however, with the sound of Savannah’s open palm slapping Nathan’s face. “Nathan, shut up!”
I stood there, part of a frozen tableau, with the orchestra ringed around me, and James holding my arms. And then the silence was broken as my wife burst into loud sobs.
His tone bitter, angry, Joseph said, “Thank you all for an amazing tour. Good night.” Then he turned and marched away, quickly.
“Let me go,” I said to James, my voice quiet. “I’m done with him.”
I was too late, though. Savannah had already run to her mother.
I sighed, then turned toward Karin. “Let’s go.”
She stared at me, her face a mixture of grief and complete disbelief.
“Let’s go,” I repeated. “We need to talk.”
Gregory
Karin and I walked out of the hall in silence. Because what was there to say, after all? She walked quickly, slightly ahead of me, her back straight, tense, angry. I’d quickly packed the Montagnana and now carried it in my right hand.
An after party was scheduled in one of the ballrooms upstairs. I would not be attending, nor, I suspected, would Savannah.
I had to talk to her. Somehow, I had to convince her not to go to Chicago, or back to Russia, or anywhere else. To stay here with me. I had to … I had to make her understand that she’d become so important to my life that to lose her would destroy everything
But first, I had to deal with Karin.
Her heels echoed off the marble floor as we walked to the parking reserved for members of the orchestra. Most of the audience had already cleared the hall, but traffic exiting onto the streets of Boston would be snarled for another half hour or longer. Delightful.
We reached the car in silence. I quickly put the cello into the back then automatically walked to the passenger side to open her door for her. She gave me an aggrieved look as I closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.
I started the car, and in the silence that followed, she said, “Just tell me the truth, Gregory.”
My stomach was twisted—my entire body flooded with dread and nausea, sharp pain pounding a crescendo between my eyes.
I stared straight ahead and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. “I want a divorce.”
She flinched.
I put the car in reverse and backed out of the spot. This end of the parking lot had few cars, but I’d been through this before. There would be hundreds trying to leave at the same time. I wished I’d taken a cab tonight. I wished I’d left Karin at home. I wished I was in Colorado or Idaho or Montana or any of the dozens of cities I’d been in over the last few weeks. I wished I was anywhere but here.
I wished I was with her...
“Do you love her?” she asked.
I paused. It was so much more complicated than that. Yes, I loved Savannah. But that wasn’t the reason I wanted a divorce, even though that was what Karin was trying to assert. It was all tied together, though. Because I didn’t love Karin. And our marriage had simply gotten worse as the last couple of years went by. And much worse when she decided she wanted to have children, whether or not I wanted them. But I couldn’t absolve myself of blame. Because ... I’d been a complete shit and there was no way around that.
But Savannah …
Savannah had shown me what I didn’t know I was missing. What I never realized I’d been craving. Connection. Understanding. No matter what was going to happen between us, she’d shown me what true love was. What it felt like. And, what it felt like when it was gone.
Finally, I settled on the one answer that I knew was the wrong answer, the one that I knew would hurt the worst, but the simplest one, the only answer I could give.
“Do you love her?” Karin repeated as I tumbled through my thoughts. Her voice was angry, but tight with tears.
I nodded once, closing my eyes briefly. “Yes.”
I put the car in park on the ground level near the exit as we came to a stop behind a dozen or more other cars.
“I hate you,” she whispered.
I swallowed. Then I said, “I know.”
“You never loved me. It was always her. Always.”
I coul
dn’t answer that. Because it was true. Even if it wasn’t the cause of our marriage falling apart, Karin wouldn’t be able to separate it all out in this tiny Lexus as we sat in traffic. What exactly was I supposed to say? My instinct was to temporize, to tell her it wasn’t true, to comfort her. But that would be wrong. It would simply drag this out and make it so much worse. And it was going to be bad enough as is.
She stared out the window at the parking lot. Someone behind us honked, because honking their horn was going to make us all go faster. Idiots.
“Is what Nathan said true? Have you been sleeping with her this summer? On the tour?”
I squeezed the wheel and said, “I don’t think it’s necessary to get into that.”
She slapped her hand on the dashboard with a loud crack. “It is! Tell me truth, Gregory! You’re still my husband.”
I sighed, and said, “Yes. It’s true.” I couldn't help it. As I spoke the words, I knew I sounded ... defeated. Ashamed.
Most of the cars ahead of us had cleared out. But the one ahead of us was just sitting there, the couple inside seemingly texting or something as they sat thirty feet from the gate. Not moving. No cars in front of them. Brake lights on. I felt my irritation rising rapidly, and I finally muttered, “Could they possibly drive any slower?” I laid on the horn, the sound echoing through the parking lot.
“Gregory,” Karin said.
I hit the horn again. The brake lights on the car ahead of me turned off, the driver apparently waking up. But then they turned on again.
For Christ’s sake. Now I hit the horn continuously.
“Gregory! Stop it!”
Finally, the car moved up to the gate and whoever was driving pulled out. I drove forward, and felt in my tuxedo for the parking ticket. Of course I didn’t have it. Karin had driven.
“Do you have the parking ticket?”
“No, I gave it to you.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted.
She recoiled, her face suddenly reflecting … intense sadness. Fear. And I deflated, the anger rushing out of me.
“Shit,” I muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“If you don’t have your ticket it’s thirty-two dollars,” the attendant said.
“Fine.” I passed over two twenties and drove on.
We were silent as I pulled into the slow, lifeless traffic around Symphony Hall. We weren’t going anywhere any time soon.
It was 1.9 miles home. I could walk it in twenty minutes, up Huntington to Saint James, across the Common to Beacon Hill and I was home. It looked like the drive was likely to take an hour tonight, and this was one night when I didn’t need that. But there was nothing I could do.
We made it a block, ten precious quiet minutes, before she spoke again.
“How long have you been sleeping with her?” she asked.
I frowned. “It doesn’t matter.”
She shuddered. “Yes. It does. Did … did you sleep with me? After?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“I hate you. You took my life.” It showed in the empty inflection of her voice.
I sighed. “If you must. If it makes it easier for you.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Karin,” I replied. “I ... I’m sorry. I wish I’d done it differently. I wish ...”
“What do you wish?” she asked, her voice laden with disgust. “That we’d never married?”
I shrugged. “It would have been wiser.”
“Because now I’m a big fucking inconvenience for you, aren’t I?”
Traffic stopped again. Huntington ran under a bridge near the front entrance to Symphony Hall. I leaned my head against the steering wheel, frustrated and angry and wishing I could be anywhere else on earth.
“It’s not a matter of convenience,” I said to the steering wheel. “We haven’t been happy. We don’t want the same things.”
“Married couples compromise, Gregory. That’s what it’s all about.”
I straightened up. “Compromise, yes. But you don’t give up who you are. You don’t give up everything about you.”
She shook her head and turned away. “And you think she’ll be any different? That she won’t expect you to be a husband? Instead of a robot who plays the cello and sleeps and looks at me like I’m not even here?”
I winced. Because the first thought that ran through my head was, Savannah would be worth that change. I didn’t have any problem envisioning changing my schedule, giving up eighteen-hour practice days. In fact, when I thought of Savannah, I thought of us … improvising ... live in front of an audience. I saw us laughing. I saw her hair, splayed out on my pillow. I saw … love.
I glanced away from Karin, twisting my grip on the wheel again, and looking at the traffic ahead, which wasn’t moving at all. And my eyes trended upward, up to the overpass.
I tried not to gasp. I tried to hide my reaction. But standing on the overpass, looking ... lost ... was Savannah. No more than fifty feet away, but it might as well have been ten miles. Her eyes were sad, her face lined with grief.
She turned away and faded into the crowd like the beautiful mirage she was.
If I’d known then it would be the last time I saw her? I’d have gotten out of the car, leaving Karin behind, and chased her down. But as it was, I saw her turn her back and disappear, and my heart broke as she walked away. But I knew I had every intention of finding her, the next day or the day after that. But first, I had to deal with Karin.
“It’s not about her, Karin. It’s about us.”
“Bullshit!” she screamed. “If you hadn’t spent the summer sleeping with her, you wouldn’t be asking me for a divorce! You are so full of shit!”
“You want to fucking lay money on that, Karin? You lied to me about trying to get pregnant. What were you going to say if it worked! Oops?” My voice came out in a roar that filled the car, and I immediately recoiled, even as part of me took immense satisfaction in letting out all of the rage I’d felt.
Another car behind us honked their horn, and I heard a voice with a thick Boston accent shouting obscenities from up ahead. Then we inched forward five feet, and everyone came to a stop again, and Karin said, “If you weren’t such a selfish coward … I gave up everything for you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shouted. “You gave up exactly nothing.”
“I gave up children!” she shouted.
I didn’t answer, just slammed my fist into the door. And then my phone rang.
Savannah
Most of the VIPs … and Gregory and Karin, left in a hurry, leaving all remaining eyes on me. I quickly made my way to Joseph, who was still staring at the space vacated by Gregory, confusion rippling across his face.
“I’m sorry that happened, Joseph …” I trailed off, shaking my head. “Thank you for the opportunity this summer. I’m … I’m sorry,” I said again, giving him a quick hug.
“No worries, Savannah.” His reaction surprised me. He grinned and shrugged. “Musicians can be quite … passionate, you know.”
I did. I gave him another hug before turning to Nathan, who, thankfully, didn’t seem to be bleeding. I just needed to get out of there. Brushing past him, he grabbed onto my wrist.
“Savannah.”
“No,” I cracked sharply.
“I’m sorry.” He looked up at Christine as he sat, holding a bag of ice to his swollen cheek. She sighed and shook her head with a mix of emotions playing across her face.
“You’re sorry? Sorry? I can’t deal with this shit right now, my fucking mother is here.”
I shook free from his grasp and purposefully configured my posture to hide every emotion possible from my mother.
In truth, my pulse never quieted after my song with Gregory. Seeing my mother standing cross-armed next to Malcolm did little to help that. The judgmental look on her face was enough to make me want to slap her, but there had been enough violence in Symphony Hall for one evening.
&nbs
p; “That was quite a show, Savannah.” Her expertly manicured eyebrow judged me as it arched its way skyward. Malcolm shifted uncomfortably at her side.
Suddenly I had no interest in giving her any of my time. I was desperate to process what had just happened and to discuss the summer. But I couldn’t. Not with her. I turned to leave.
“Where are you going?” she asked, sounding rather annoyed.
“Cab. Home.” I shoved my flute case into my shoulder bag and made my way down the long hall, knowing full well she was following closely behind. I made it all the way outside before acknowledging her. “Leave me alone.”
“Hardly, darling. Not when you’re in the middle of destroying your career.” Whenever she said darling it took on a haughty British air, which annoyed me even further given Italian was her first language. And she was an American citizen.
Turning around, I sized Malcolm up quickly before speaking loud to be heard over the traffic and honking horns.
“Vai.” I commanded her to go in a language she might understand, since her English seemed to be failing her.
“Calmati.” She tilted her head to the side mockingly, suggesting I actually calm down. “There’s no need to hide this conversation, Savannah.”
“We’re not having a conversation. I’m leaving.” Turning without a second glance at her silent boyfriend, I made it down one stair.
“And where is it that you’re going? Home? You don’t have one here, remember? Or, were you planning to run to the house of your lover … who appears to be married?”
“Wow,” I turned around and took three measured steps toward her, “those are some serious accusations coming from someone like you.”
My mother swallowed once, sneaking a sideways glance at Malcolm, who looked as though he was about to speak. She stopped him by putting her hand up. “You seem to have your facts mixed up, Savannah. I never slept with a married man.”
“That’s where you’re mistaken, Vita.” I leaned in so only she could hear me. “Dad. Dad was a married man. To you. Or, is it that your marriage vows meant so little, you conveniently forgot about them while you were in bed with him?” I tilted my chin toward Malcolm who wisely looked away from me.
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