Remember This

by Patricia Koerner

  I knew that he was getting a divorce and planning to move back to New York to be with you. In fact I drew up the papers for him. The court date was set for March 23rd. When his son Robby graduated from college, he began consulting me about the divorce. When his doctor diagnosed his heart condition, he was even more anxious to spend what was left of his life with you. He spoke frankly to me about his feelings for you. I know he downplayed the seriousness of his heart condition to you. He only wanted to shield you from worry. I hope this doesn’t upset you. It genuinely moved me to hear him so openly say how much he loved you.

  As you probably know, California is a community property state. He would have had to give Rachel half of his assets, but he told me that he would have given her his last dime if that is what it would have taken.

  So, although I asked you to sign the agreement because I need to protect my firm, the real reason I sent you the ring is that I know it is what John would have wanted. It is the last favor I can do for him; not as his lawyer, but as his friend.

  There is one last thing. I am writing this on my home computer and am not saving it. This communication will therefore remain solely between us. My deepest condolences for the loss you’ve suffered.

  Sincerely,

  Mark W. Hobson

  Hannah wiped the tears from her face and returned the letter to the envelope. She at first was going to shred it, but instead put it into her safe with other important documents. Before she closed the safe, she added the agreement she signed for Hobson to the envelope.

  “So, how long were you and Eddie together, Sophie?” asked Hannah as she poured iced tea into their glasses.

  “Three years. We met at a New Year’s Eve party. He was so cute and charming and we seemed to connect on every level. By summer, he’d convinced me to move in with him. About six months after that, everything started going bad. First, he lost his job as a web site designer and couldn’t seem to get another one. At first, I chalked it up to the recession. It seemed that everyone around us was getting laid off. Later, I found out he had passed up several good opportunities with the excuse that they weren’t challenging enough, didn’t pay enough or whatever. I made enough to get us by, but eventually, I came to resent it and it ate away at our relationship.”

  “I hear that. That’s pretty much what happened with Matty’s father, my ex-husband Tony. Tell me, did your parents have anything to say about the situation?”

  “Oh, yes. They seemed to know from the beginning that Eddie wasn’t up for any responsibility, but they knew that I was going to believe it only when I found out for myself.”

  “Yes, I can attest to that as well, from the point of view of both the child and the parent,” Hannah chuckled.

  Sophie switched on her recorder. “So now you and John had essentially a bi-coastal relationship. How did you two manage that?

  8

  October 1974:

  After John left for California, Greg and Cindy said they would be happy if I continued to live with them, but I decided to move into an apartment of my own. I loved Cindy and Greg, but staying with them was just impossible for me. I literally ached for John. During the day I missed the sound of his voice, his smile, his sense of humor. At night, I missed the warmth of his body, the feel of his skin, his scent. When you share living space with a couple, you learn to pretend not to notice your roommates going to and from the bathroom half-dressed and to respect a closed bedroom door and to politely ignore any sound you may hear coming from behind it. I just couldn’t take the constant reminders of what I now had to live without.

  I found a suitable efficiency apartment whose owner was willing to allow me to move in right away and not have to wait until the first of the month. I didn’t have many belongings and I wanted to save money now that I was going to have steady, well-paying work. I had a phone put in right away, of course, and called Greg and Cindy with my new phone number, so when John phoned, they could give it to him, along with my new address.

  It was the right decision. Being in a new environment better enabled me to make a fresh start. The Philharmonic had already gone into rehearsals, so I had my work to occupy my mind and energy. I enjoyed working with Maestro Boulez, although he could be challenging. For instance, he conducted without a baton and it was sometimes difficult to interpret his hand movements. By the time we opened the season, however, I had become accustomed to the Maestro’s style.

  I phoned John over Thanksgiving weekend. As soon as I heard his voice, my hands shook and I nearly dropped the phone. Trying to be subtle, I asked him if he enjoyed being around all those beautiful actresses. Now, I don’t think I’ve ever been “needy “or lacking in self-esteem, but I’ve always been realistic. I’d been aware since childhood that while I may have been blessed with a knack for piano playing, I wasn’t gifted with beauty. I’ve worn glasses since I was twelve and contact lenses have never been an option since they made my eyes burn and water. My teeth are too big and my nose turned up, like a little mouse’s. I look too much like my Dad, I guess. The only thing Danny or I seem to have inherited of our mother’s beauty is her cleft chin. So, it isn’t that much of a stretch that I might worry that a man of John’s breathtaking looks might consider being with a woman who was more of a match for him in that department. He pointedly ignored my question however, and changed the subject. He wanted to tell me about the film part he had just landed. “It’s only one scene and two lines, but it’s a start,” he said. I was bitterly disappointed that John wasn’t coming East for Christmas, not even to D.C. to see his family, but he was afraid if he left now, even for a short time, he might lose out on a chance for a good part. I didn’t have enough time to fly out there, so I resigned myself to spending the holiday alone.

  Two days before Christmas, I got a card from John. There was a letter inside.

  Dec. 19, 1974

  Dearest Hannah,

  Filming for the movie wrapped today. So we’ll soon see if there’s a future for me in this. On the 26th, I have a call back. There is a project in development and they’re now starting to look for actors to cast. My agent says that it’s a period piece about Napoleon and the Battle of Waterloo. I’ll let you know everything, of course.

  I wish I could have been there tonight to see you perform with the Philharmonic. I’m sorry I left before I could. I hope I get a chance to sometime.

  About those beautiful actresses you asked me about – yes, there are a lot of them here, but their beauty is pretty superficial, especially when I compare them to you. I was drawn to you because you were so pure and sweet. I don’t mean in the physical way because if you recall, I didn’t even know that about you until I’d already given my heart to you. I mean pure in your mind and in your heart. Remember this, please.

  I called Greg and he said you were going out with him and Cindy on New Year’s Eve. I hope you guys have a good time. I’ll call you on New Year’s Day.

  Love,

  John

  Over the winter, Danny and I planned to take a trip together, but we couldn’t settle on a place. He really wanted to go somewhere together, just the two of us. He was in his second year at UCLA majoring in art; no surprise, since he had been drawing and painting since he was around eight. Spring break was the last week of March and luckily, I was able to get some time off then, too.

  Finally, Danny phoned me and said that he wanted to go to Utah for a ski trip.

  “Skiing?” I wasn’t sure I heard him right. “Danny, neither of us has ever been on a pair of skis in our lives. Whatever gave you this idea?”

  “That’s just it, Hanni, We’ve never done it before. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “OK, you’ve talked me into it, little brother. But I’d better not break my leg, or there’s going to be serious payback.”

  When my plane landed in Salt Lake City, I looked at those huge snow covered mountains and tried to block from my mind images of myself tumbling head over heels down the side of one of them. Danny was already at our hotel when I arriv
ed, going over brochures. “Brighton or Snowbird?” he said, holding up the brochures for each.

  “Why not both?” I said. “We have all week.”

  I had managed to drive our rental car to the hotel, but it had been years since I’d been behind the wheel of a car, so I decided to leave the rest of the driving to Danny. As we drove up Big Cottonwood Canyon, I had Danny stop the car two or three times so I could admire the gorgeous scenery. We passed trees weighted down with snow, glistening in the sun, set precariously on the steep sides of the mountains. Some stretches of the narrow road came close to the creek rushing over the rocks and branches and I was sure I saw a couple of little brown squirrels scampering about. We even saw an eagle making slow lazy circles in the clear blue sky. This was a part of life that a couple of city kids like Danny and me rarely saw and we didn’t want to miss a thing.

  We spent our first two days at Brighton. Skiing lessons were offered to beginners, so Danny and I signed up. I definitely did not have the knack for it and spent more time on my backside than on my feet. In fact, my backside got so cold and numb that I couldn’t even feel it anymore. By the end of the day, we were able to take a couple of runs down the easiest slopes. The second day, we practiced until we felt confident enough to try the next level of slopes.

  When we left Brighton and headed up Little Cottonwood Canyon to Snowbird, I could tell Danny had something on his mind. We were still too sore to try any more skiing, so we decided to just ride the tram and perhaps hike any passable trails.

  Once we settled in, we had lunch and since it was again a relatively warm and sunny day, we walked along a path which led around the back of the resort and sloped up through a wooded area to a clearing. Danny had brought his sketchpad and pencils to capture some of the beautiful views. “Hanni,” he said as soon as we were out of earshot of the last building. “I’ve wanted to talk to you about something. That’s why I wanted to be alone with you.” His face looked so serious, I immediately began to worry. “I’ve been seeing someone.”

  I laughed with relief. “Well, lay it on me, little brother. Tell me all about her. What’s her name? Did you meet her at school?”

  “It’s not a girl.”

  I stopped in my tracks. I waited for him to tell me he was kidding, but his face told me he was not. “Well, go ahead. I still want to know about … him.”

  “His name is Ricky and I met him last October at an art exhibit being held at the gallery where he works. We hit it off right away as friends, but as time passed, it became more than just friendship. I was thinking of inviting him on this trip, but I decided instead to tell you alone.”

  “When did you decide you wanted to be with men, Danny?” I asked, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea. I knew of course, that there were people who were attracted to their own sex, but until now, it had never been to me anything more than something vague, an abstract idea.

  “I didn’t decide, Hanni.” We came to a large boulder off to the right of the path and sat down on it. “When other guys talked about girls and how they got turned on by them – by their bodies, I went along with them, pretending I did too, because I thought I was supposed to. I thought I would too, eventually, but it never happened. Gradually, I realized that I was drawn to men and when I met Ricky, I no longer had any doubt.”

  “Do Mother and Dad know?”

  “No! Swear to me you’ll never tell them. Swear you’ll never tell anybody. People just go crazy if they find out. Guys have been kicked out of their apartments, lost jobs. Some even lost family and friends who didn’t want to know them anymore.”

  “Of course I’ll say nothing to anyone if that’s what you want,” I said, quick to reassure him. “Haven’t we always had each other’s backs?” I put my arm around him and stroked his back. “What about John? Can I tell him?”

  “I wish you wouldn’t. It’s not that I don’t trust him, Hanni, but he could let something slip that someone would pick up and pass around. Can we wait on that? I know he’ll have to know eventually, but for now…?”

  I realized that it must have taken every ounce of courage he had to tell me all this. I took him in my arms and just held him for a little while. I wasn’t sure I really understood what it was like for him and perhaps I never would have a true, complete understanding. I did know, however, that I didn’t need to understand. He was my brother and I loved him unconditionally.

  Just then, I heard birds in the trees nearby. I looked up to see a clutch of magpies squawking and quarreling. I took in the rest of the scenery and suggested to Danny that this would be a perfect spot for those sketches he wanted to do.

  “OK,” he said. “But I want to do one of you first. Just stay here on this boulder. The trees and mountainside are a perfect backdrop.” After he sketched me, he did a couple more of the mountains and trees while I watched. A cold breeze then began blowing and we decided to head back. As we started down the path, on impulse I yanked down his wool cap over his eyes and took off running. He was after all, still my little brother and I was still going to tease him.

  The next day, we rode the tram and Danny made some more sketches. The day after that, we returned to Salt Lake City. Before we left for our respective homes, Danny gave me the sketch he did of me.

  ***

  When I arrived home, my mailbox was full. I was hoping for a letter from John. There wasn’t one and I felt a pang of disappointment. “Well, of course there won’t be a letter from him. He knew you were going to be in Utah,” I reminded myself. There was, among the usual run of junk mail, a letter from Laurie and a thick cream colored envelope. The writing on it was unfamiliar, but when I saw the Washington, D.C. postmark and return address, I knew immediately that it was an invitation to Alicia, John’s sister’s, wedding. John had told me during one of our phone calls that her boyfriend, Erik had proposed to her on Valentine’s Day and the date was set for August 21st. I was already practically giddy with excitement thinking about being with John again even though the wedding was over four months away yet.

  On August 19th, I headed down to D.C. The Eatons had insisted I stay with them and wouldn’t hear of me staying at a hotel. After ten months apart from John, I was so distracted thinking about him that I almost forgot to pack the sheet music I was going to need. Earlier in the summer, Mr. Eaton had told me a friend of Alicia’s was going to sing and he asked me if I would accompany her and play background music during the reception. I was glad to do so and flattered that he asked me.

  The wedding took place at St. Anne’s, a gothic style church on Wisconsin Avenue, in the Northwest section. It probably had the highest vaulted ceilings I had ever seen. I remember wondering what things sounded like from way up there. My ruminations were loudly interrupted by the organ beginning the wedding march. Alicia was such a lovely bride. Her dark coloring contrasted with that of Erik, who was fair, blond and blue-eyed. I thought he looked so dashing in his dress uniform. He was in the Navy, stationed at Annapolis and had met Alicia through a mutual friend. They looked so happy that I nearly cried. John, standing next to me, took my hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

  The reception was held in the beautiful garden of the reception center. The space was surrounded by hedges and flowering bushes. The flower beds alongside the pathways were a riot of bright color and scented the humid air. The tables and even the piano were set up under pavilions to shield guests from the hot sun. The children among the guests seemed happy to at last be able to run and play after having to sit quietly through the ceremony. I accompanied Alicia’s friend as she sang and then I played softly through the meal and the many toasts which were offered.

  Afterwards, as evening was falling, I was so taken with watching the children chasing ‘lightning bugs’ that I didn’t notice John had come up beside me with a plate of food he had saved for me. It was only then that I really took note of how beautiful he looked in black tie. I had already taken note of some of the other young women eying him. My first reaction was one of jealousy, but when
I saw that John barely seemed to notice and took it in stride; I decided instead to see it as a compliment; to myself as well as to John.

  John and I stayed with his parents for two more days after the wedding so we could have time with them. I then returned to New York. John came with me and stayed the remainder of the week. We spent most of that time getting … you might say … reacquainted, but we did squeeze in some time to go dancing with Greg and Cindy.

  The day before John went back to California, I received notice that my contract with the Philharmonic was being renewed for another season. John was due to begin filming another picture in October; this one about the 1848 Gold Rush. Although we had planned to live apart for only a year, we felt we’d better take our opportunities while we could. So, one could say we renewed our contract for another year.

  This second year of John’s and my arrangement seemed to go easier than the first. By then, we had developed a routine. Each of us would phone the other at least once a month and of course, we wrote letters. It wasn’t like today, what with e-mailing, text messaging and tweeting. Then, one couldn’t have instant access to someone 24/7. Not having that, I think, made relationships that much sweeter and more exciting.

  That season, the Philharmonic performed Carmina Burana, which even now, is one of my favorite works, in spite of the fact that parts of it have been used ad nauseum in commercials and movies. I love the high energy of the entire work, but especially, of course, of the piano part. Piano parts, actually, because two pianos are required for the Carmina. I also love the poetry. If one takes the trouble to read and reflect on the poems, it’s hard not to feel the timeless joy in life expressed in them. We also recorded Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand, a daunting project, because it involves a full orchestra and a large chorus, hence the name. So, I was kept busy and happy that season, which helped it seem to pass by quickly.