A Secret Baby for the Vampire

by Wylder, Jasmine

  After a triple layer chocolate cream cake, Jerome took Eva to an art deco movie theater that played a stream of art house movies, foreign films, and the classics. They watched a Jean-Luc Godard film from the sixties that made Eva laugh and left her with a burning desire to speak fluent French. Not that she was doing much speaking these days.

  After the movie Jerome insisted on seeing Eva back to her apartment and was grateful for the gesture and for his company.

  “You would look good with them,” Jerome conceded. They’d been talking about Anna Karina’s bangs in the movie.

  Eva took a chunk of her thick hair and twirled it up to give herself fake bangs, “Like this.”

  “If you want the full look you’ll need some blue eye shadow and some seriously winged eyeliner.”

  “And a cigarette, don’t forget the cigarette,” Eva mimed smoking, something she, or any other serious opera singer, would never do. “Of course I already sound like a smoker,” she sighed.

  Jerome nodded a little and looked both ways before leading Eva to cross the street.

  “Do you ever get too caught up in your roles?” Eva asked, looking up.

  “What do you mean? Like I sing Pinkerton in Madame Butterfly and suddenly find myself falling in love with a beautiful Geisha before throwing her over and leaving her to slit her own throat?” Jerome drew a fake knife across his neck before turning to Eva.

  “Yeah, like that,” she laughed in a raspy deep voice.

  They walked on quietly for a long moment.

  “Are you having a hard time drawing a line between yourself and Lucretia?” Jerome broke the comfortable silence.

  Eva waggled her head back and forth. A toddler ran past them and Eva saw the little girl’s mother down the sidewalk in hot pursuit. Jerome bent and lifted the little girl mid-run.

  “I think someone’s trying to catch you,” Jerome said to the baby, who giggled cheerfully at being apprehended. “Here you are,” Jerome handed off the child to her mother or nanny.

  “Thank you, she won’t go to sleep, I thought walking would wear her out but it seems to only have given her more energy.” The mother made a face as if to say, what can you do, then continued off down the sidewalk. “Are going to be a good girl and go to sleep?” They could hear the mother asking her child as they walked away.

  “No!” The baby shouted and laughed in a sweet, high-pitched reply.

  Jerome looked at Eva.

  “Isn’t it late?” she whispered to him.

  Jerome nodded, his nostrils flaring a little with amusement.

  “You are a natural with children, if you don’t book something soon you could always be a manny,” she teased.

  “Two little brothers and a little sister force you to be good with children.” Jerome turned back to Eva, “But you were telling me about your role.”

  “It’s stupid,” Eva fluttered a hand in front of her.

  “No, tell me.”

  Eva contemplated Jerome’s face. “Ok, let’s say you had two choices in front of you. You have the choice to move to… some other country where you don’t know the language, the laws, the customs, and you wouldn’t be allowed to visit before deciding either. You would have to live there for the rest of your life once you moved, you could never go back… but you would be able to sing perfectly, have an acclaimed career, and never stop singing. Or you could stay at home, but you would never be able to sing again…you might become depressed, you might even…” Eva drew a fake dagger across her own neck. “Which would you choose?”

  Jerome whistled, “Geez, that’s quite a question.”

  “And you have to decide before we get the next intersection,” Eva added.

  “Ok, ok,” Jerome nodded and looked at the ground while he walked forward. “Would I be happy in the other country?”

  “You can’t know that until you get there,” Eva spread her fingers.

  “Of course not,” Jerome rolled his eyes, “and once I was there I would be there forever.”

  “Right.”

  Eva watched his face as they walked—it was a hard question to answer, she knew that better than anyone.

  “I don’t know, I’m not sure I could choose a life without singing,” he looked up. “But I’m not sure I could live a life removed from everything I know and…love.” He stopped walking and looked into Eva’s face.

  Eva felt the mood of his words and saw the changes in his body and face. She had an impulse to reach out and cover Jerome’s mouth, to stop him from saying anymore, but she didn’t. She looked at him with limp hands and a quickly beating heart.

  “This is probably a really bad time to tell you this—but, Eva, I—”

  “—wait,” Eva cut in, panicked by what she knew her friend was about to say, “sorry, I just…”

  “I know, you’ve got way too much going on right now to deal with me, but I have to tell you while I have the courage. I care about you. I’ve always cared about you. A lot.” He stared at her face, his eyes moved over her and she felt like his eyes were saying more than his words had been able to.

  Eva opened her mouth.

  “Don’t say anything. Just think about…I shouldn’t have said anything.” Jerome turned back to the sidewalk and continued walking.

  Eva ran to catch up with him.

  “What about Leslie?” It was all she could think of in the moment.

  “What about Leslie? I don’t care about Leslie that way, I think you know that—”

  Did she know that? Had she understood that? Eva had never really thought that Jerome had cared about her.

  “I just… it’s just that my heart… isn’t available right now.” She felt horrible saying it but she also knew that it was true.

  “Ambrose.” He said the name with derision. He looked sick over it. “Sorry, I’m sure he’s a great guy.”

  Eva didn’t want to respond. Ambrose was handsome, he was talented, he was exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t a great guy in the sense that Jerome meant.

  “He’s not that great,” Eva admitted slowly.

  Jerome shifted his weight as he turned over what Eva had said. “I’ve heard the rumors, about all the women,” Jerome put a hand on Eva’s shoulder then quickly dropped it.

  “Right,” Eva felt her face burn hot. Everyone knew then? Everyone knew that Ambrose hopped from woman to woman? Then they knew something that Eva hadn’t let herself see. Her heart was in a relationship with a man that would never let himself or his heart be in a relationship with her.

  “He isn’t right for you, Eva. You’re…you’re much too good for him. If he can’t see what I see, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

  Eva looked back up at Jerome, “I know.”

  Jerome nodded.

  “For now,” she stepped forward and bumped Jerome with her hip, “let’s just be friends. Now that Bridget is gone I can’t afford to lose your friendship.”

  “You will never lose my friendship.” Jerome patted Eva on the back a few times before moving forward again.

  “Hey! You never gave me your decision…we’re at the end of the block.” She stopped and waited before crossing the empty street.

  “My decision would be…to not make a decision…”

  “But you have to,” she pressed.

  “It’s impossible, I refuse,” he said adamantly.

  She nodded, looked both ways, and crossed the street.

  He was right. It was impossible.

  Chapter Ten

  “You know Luciano, there will be changes, but we’re very excited to hear this on real live voices,” Glenda said to the group in front of her. Eva had been feeling terrible nerves all the day before and all through the morning. Now that she was actually in the first rehearsal her nerves seemed to sliding into a modest fluttering.

  Ambrose had come in and promptly sat himself in middle of a circle surrounded by the prettiest girls in the cast. Eva rolled her eyes then decided that she would not give him the satisfaction of looking over at hi
m. When she looked to the other side of the large room she saw Tessa shooting fierce eyes at the group as well. This made Eva smile the tiniest bit.

  “Good,” Glenda clapped her hands together once and looked to the doors where her husband had just walked in.

  Luciano held up a finger and pointed at Eva. Eva stood and walked toward the door where Luciano promptly left again.

  “So we’ll start with a warm up,” Glenda said. There was the sound of the piano and the movement of bodies and feet, and then the strong solid wall of voices singing through scales.

  “Good morning,” Eva smiled. She tried to think of how far away Ambrose was and how her voice would react to the distance. In that moment Eva understood how difficult her task was truly going to be.

  “How are you doing?” Luciano asked. Eva looked at him surprised. It didn’t seem like his kind of question.

  “Great!” Eva smiled. She immediately began to think of the worst. Had he found out about her voice? Did he know that at any moment she might not be able to sing anymore?

  “Good,” Luciano patted her on the shoulder. “They,” Luciano gestured toward the group warming up, “have all done this before—you’ve got a lot of responsibility my dear. But I believe you can do it.” He squinted his eyes and dipped his head.

  “Thank you.” Eva felt deeply the kindness of his words. The fact, that it was just the sort of thing he rarely, if ever, said made them all the more poignant.

  “Ok then, let’s get to work.” Luciano issued Eva back into the large rehearsal space and Eva joined in immediately with warm ups.

  Eva tried her best to be nice to the other cast members but she felt separated from them. Many of them were friends from other productions and Eva was decidedly an outsider. She understood that she was not only new to them but in their eyes she hadn’t paid her dues to be singing the lead role in a Luciano Costantini production.

  It wasn’t until she began singing that the other people in the cast seemed to notice her.

  With her opening phrases she noticed heads turning, the room fell silent. Ambrose’s robust voice moved in sync with hers and she felt that the room became as entranced by their music as Eva felt.

  The music rose and dipped, Ambrose came in then Eva sang over him. They finished the first act of music to applause by the chorus of singers sitting along the walls, in the chairs, and standing nearby.

  Luciano motioned for the other singers to abate their applause and Eva felt herself blush.

  During their first break, she watched Tessa walk toward Ambrose but he turned to Eva instead.

  “Did you ever find that earring?”

  Ambrose said it with a straight face but Eva could hear the humor hiding beneath his voice.

  “I did, thank you for asking.” She tried not to look at him. He was silent and finally Eva gave in and turned. He was smirking, eyebrows raised. “How do you think it’s going?” She tried to sound light and airy, tried not to show that she cared what his response might be.

  “I think you are more than anyone bargained for,” he smiled.

  Eva felt a pull on her lips, the desire to smile, but she squelched it. Eva’s phone began to buzz from her bag and she dug around, pulling it out. It was her doctor’s office.

  “I just…” She put a finger up to signify that she must take the call then moved out of the rehearsal room as she answered.

  “This is Eva St. Marie,” she answered the phone. As the doctor spoke on the other line Eva felt like a truck had struck her.

  Her fingers shook as she turned off her phone and let it slid back into her bag.

  When she came back from the hall she felt like the room was spinning around her head. She looked for Ambrose. He was talking to Tessa and two other women who were hanging on his every word. Her heart sank.

  She did her best to ignore Ambrose’s flirtations with other women, tried to ignore the flirtations he kept making toward her. What was she supposed to do? She sang her lines and felt all the more that she wasn’t singing for Lucretia, she was singing for herself. Somewhere, somehow, Eva had become Lucretia and now there was no way out but to find her way through the tunnel of this opera and see where it landed her.

  Ambrose didn’t seem to mind or even to notice Eva’s rebuffs from his attentions.

  She let the songs, the music act as her passageway to true emotion, to the real feelings of her soul. People clustered together at breaks throughout the day and Eva tried to read over her sheet music so she wouldn’t seem quite so alone. Ambrose came over once or twice but Eva found that a group of girls was always just waiting for the right opportunity to carry him away for some errand or another.

  After rehearsal Ambrose made a point to break away and he walked next to Eva.

  “I thought perhaps you should come over tonight, we can sing through the third act.” His voice was playful and Eva was exhausted.

  “I need to be home.” She felt close to tears and she didn’t want to expose them to Ambrose for him to laugh away.

  “Do you think that’s wise?” He stopped and Eva stopped as well.

  Eva looked over his face. Could she ever possibly tell her secret to this man? It was now his secret too, but there was no reason he ever had to know it.

  “We can do one quick rehearsal so we don’t sound completely horrendous tomorrow then I’ll have a car drive you home. You’ll be in your own warm bed before you know it.”

  Eva thought it over. Every part of her wanted to tell him. Every part of her yearned to be near him, to feel his presence close to her.

  “One quick rehearsal,” she heard herself say. It was absurd, a crazy thing to do. What she really needed was to think, to be alone and contemplate her future. But the man in front of her felt so much like her future.

  This time Eva let Ambrose hail a cab. She wasn’t up for the walk.

  She sat in the back in silence, staring out the window and all the time wondering. Wondering what she should do, wondering how much she should say, and wondering what Ambrose’s reaction would be if she did tell all.

  “And how are you this evening, Mr. Leroy?” Ambrose’s doorman seemed very perky as he opened the front door for Eva then Ambrose to walk through.

  “Quite well,” Ambrose smiled at the man, tipping an invisible hat.

  “And with such lovely company, how could you be doing otherwise?” The man looked at Eva and winked. She wondered how many other women he’d said the same words to? How many women had he seen come through here on Ambrose’s arm?

  “So,” Ambrose turned to Eva as they walked into his apartment.

  “Act three?” Eva took off her light jacket and draped it over the couch.

  “Right.”

  Eva walked down the front hall and turned into his music room. She walked to the piano. They were here to sing through the third act together and that was she needed to focus on for the time being.

  Ambrose took the music out of his case and put it on the piano top. “Do you want to play or should I?” He moved his eyes to the piano bench.

  “You.” Eva was certain she would crash her way through the hand written, sometimes erased and rewritten, notes lining the page. She walked back to her bag and took out her water then sprayed the back of her mouth with a bitter throat spray.

  Ambrose sat down on the bench behind her and Eva darted her eyes to the spot on the Persian rug that she’d been avoiding since walking in. The things she had felt on that rug…

  Ambrose plucked out a few notes then put both hands to the keys and began to play. Eva’s mouth dropped open and she turned to look at him. Ambrose played like a concert pianist. His fingers roamed over the keys like he’d known the notes all his life.

  His hands stopped and he looked up, “That’s where you come in.” He smiled.

  “When did you learn to play like that?” Eva couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

  “I’ve been around for a very long time and music is my life.” Ambrose returned his eyes to the music and
began to play again. Eva stopped him.

  “You met my parents, didn’t you?” Eva watched Ambrose’s eyes look up from their spot on the music.

  He pursed his lips, then said thoughtfully, “I did.”

  Eva took a moment to digest this information. He’d met her parents. Of course he had, he’d been around for a “long time” as he said. He masterful at what he did and Eva knew of only one way to be so incredibly good.

  “Not many times, but I sang with your mother in Prague. Your father was a funny man, he had a great sense of humor. Your mother was one of the most elegant women I’ve ever met—lovely. They were devoted to each other in a way I’ve never seen before or since. I’m sure they were devoted to you when you were born too.” His fingers found a few keys and a soft, light melody played into the room.

  “No one has ever called my father ‘funny,’” Eva said softly.

  “People saw him only for his musical genius, but I think he was a really warm man as well. They were good people. The best of people.”

  Eva brushed the tears from her face. “Maybe one day, you can tell me more about them?”

  Ambrose nodded, “Anytime.”

  He played through his soft melody then sensing Eva was ready, he turned his attention back to his music. He began the same darting notes and this time Eva let herself fall into it, she moved closer so she could see the words. Then she began to sing.

  Her voice rose in his apartment. The room was large and the music bounced off the walls and fell back on her ears. Ambrose came in with a large breath and let his voice rise to meet hers.

  Tears came to her eyes. This was what she wanted. This, more than anything else in the world.

  Ambrose looked up from the music and stopped playing. “You’re crying.”

  “It’s just so beautiful.” She pushed her fingers across her face. Ambrose reached up and held her wrist. He pulled her down to the bench, their bodies turned in opposite directions but their faces lining up.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He moved his fingers over her face. His lips found her cheek and he kissed away her tears.

  Eva felt something inside herself give way to the man in front of her. She lifted her face to him. Her lips met his.